Blurring past the nurses behind the counter, I walked through a passageway I knew would lead to room 24, where my stepmother lay.
I remembered walking through this same passageway, only to find what was left of my sister. Tears pooled around my eyes, but I sniffed them away.
Footsteps echoed from the other side of the hallway. Two men walked into view, pushing a shrouded corpse on a stretcher.
I halted. A red-hot coal stood where my heart should be, setting my insides ablaze. The stretcher's wheels squeaked past me, its haunting sound gnawing at my soul.
Had they come from room 24? No. This couldn't happen to me. Not a fourth time. Fighting to gain control of my limbs, I dashed to the stretcher.
"Hey, what-" one of the men began, but I'd already thrown open the shroud, baring a face I would never see again.
My eyes burned with indescribable grief. But the face staring back at me placed my emotions on hold. I'd never seen this girl. I clapped a hand over my mouth to suppress a joyous shout. This time, death had picked on some other family.
The peaceful look on the girls face entranced me. Her lips, slightly stretched, seemed almost as though she were smiling. She appeared to be having a pleasant dream. A part of me wanted to reach out and touch her, awaken her from her deep slumber. But if I had such powers, then my whole family would still be intact.
I stepped away, giving room for the stretcher bearers to cover up the corpse. My heart sank as I watched them take her out of sight. It would break her family and friends to learn of her passing.
To cope with the death of a loved one, one must be superhuman. I silently prayed the good lord strengthened her loved ones and helped them cope.
Straightening my spine, I resumed my walk to room 24. I followed a left turn and found it two doors away. My pace doubled as I advanced to the door.
Almost noiselessly, I opened the door. Two pairs of eyes devoured me; Raheem's and my stepmother's. A smile tore through her lips, and with it came a fusillade of memories.
She had never smiled at me. So why now? Why love me only after losing her memory? Why want to fix things when my sister's life had already been wasted?
I couldn't do this. I couldn't share a smile with the woman who'd filled my life with so much darkness. Doing so would mean betraying my very own self, mind, body and soul.
Shaking my head, I darted outside. I'd thought I'd be able to handle seeing her, and then I'd accept her for the new person she'd become. But beholding her face reopened my wounds over and over again. These wounds could never heal. And that woman would never be a part of my life.
Her smile had lit up my insides with a scorching envy. She had no memories of the past, but I did. The image of Cynthia's burnt skin, etched to my memory, haunted me each day, taking away any reason to smile.
I choked on my suppressed grief. Turning away from the door, I made to leave, when the door cracked open. Without turning, I knew it was Raheem.
"I can't do this," I said. "I can't stand the sight of that woman."
Raheem closed the space between us and turned me to face him. "Calm down."
He held me with his gaze and didn't let go till my emotions neared stability. "Remember that you're here because you saw it fit to come see her. It was all your decision, and it is the right one."
"Allow me be the judge of what's right or wrong," I said.
"Very well," he said. His facial features tightened and relaxed, forming a pattern. I could tell he was torn between talking and holding back his words.
He chose the former. "That woman is not the same person who tried to kill you. She'll even be appalled if she learns of how she treated you in the past. Your wicked stepmother committed suicide six months ago. And here now, we have a whole new person. She kept asking why you hadn't come to see her. She kept sighing over her amnesia. You know why? She says living without any memories of you is so much like death. Maybe I made a mistake. I should not have told her she had a daughter. I should have just let her build a new life. That would have been better than subjecting her to a life like this. She wakes up each day, looking forward to her daughter's visit. And today, when that day finally comes-"
"What do you want from me?" I asked.
"I made a promise to her," he said. "And I don't break promises. I promised to bring you to her."
If only I hadn't let myself be entrapped by Raheem's well crafted poem, I wouldn't have been propelled to read the letter. And then I wouldn't have ended up in this undesirable situation.
"Let's get this over with," I muttered. It would only be a minute and then I would be gone, never to return. I wanted nothing to do with that woman, and Raheem knew that more than anyone else.
Cursing under my breath, I stepped into the room. Sat on the bed, the last person I wanted to see welcomed me with a flickering smile.
"Are you alright?" She rose to her feet and crossed the room to meet me. Her eyes searched mine. "Is something wrong?"
"I'm okay," I muttered.
She reached out to touch me, causing me to flinch. Her hand hovered in the air, just a few inches from my face. It trembled only just noticeably. I stared at it like it were a poisonous snake waiting to strike.
I cringed as her palm pressed against the side of my face, emitting an undesirable warmth. She wrapped me in a bone-breaking embrace. I stood motionless, with my hands glued to my sides. No way in hell would I return her hug.
"You are here," she said. "I dream. Every...every night. My daughter-"
My heart darkened at the mention of 'daughter'. I disentangled myself from the embrace and shoved her off. "I am not your-"
"Victoria," Raheem warned. What lies had he been feeding her with?
Swallowing my indignation, I stared at the uninteresting floor, bracing myself for the undesirable moments I would spend in her company.