Kristie Cook - Purpose

What is wrong with me? Insane impulses were taking over my life. I’d been bad before, really bad, but never like this. The messed-up dreams…the anger and irritability…the impulses…the physical urges…the hallucinations…the voices…and now the fake video. Everything crashed down on me at once. I considered again that I was finally losing it. Mom must have thought the same thing.

“Maybe you need some time away,” she said when I returned. “A change of scenery…”

“And where do you suggest I go?” I snarled. “The demons are inside my head, Mom. I can’t get away from them.”

She cringed. The words had come out of my mouth before I even knew what I said.

“Actually, that’s what concerns me,” she said, shocking me.

Then I realized the truth of her meaning. I instantly became irate, with an overwhelming urge to throw it all in her face—letting her know exactly what she’d produced with her little romp in the sack with the evil sperm donor. Her intentions may have been to save him, but she lost him…and now she might possibly be losing me.

“Oh, are you afraid the Daemoni inside of me is finally coming out?” I sneered. “Maybe your little miracle isn’t so good after all.”

“Alexis!”

“What does it matter anyway? They’ve totally mind-fucked us! The Daemoni…even the Amadis! They just use us! And now look. They’ve destroyed us instead! Him. Me. We’re useless.”

“Alexis Katerina! You really need to get yourself under control. I will not talk to you until you become rational.”

I burst into laughter.

“Rational?” I asked between chortles. “That’s a good one, Mom!”

She narrowed her eyes, turned on her heel and stomped away. The urge to run—run away from it all—came over me. So I did. I threw on my new clothes and shoes and ran for miles. I didn’t know how my body survived. Just a few days ago it was a lump of old, tired lard that hadn’t moved more than necessary from bed to chair to bed again. Now, on such little sleep and no food—I couldn’t remember the last time I’d eaten—it felt strong and wired with energy.

But I couldn’t run far enough. I couldn’t run far enough away from my shitty life. I couldn’t run far enough to get to Tristan…to know for sure.

As I ran, I decided Mom was right. I just needed to get away for a while. Really be by myself and try to straighten my head out. Like so many irrational ideas, this one made perfect sense right now. I ran home, showered and packed.

“What are you doing?” Mom asked from my bedroom doorway.

“Packing. I’m going away, like you said.”

“That’s not exactly what I meant….”

“Well, that’s what I’m doing. I do need time away.”

She came in and sat on my bed, watching me as I purposefully moved between closet, bathroom and bed, where my suitcase lay open.

“Where are you going?” she finally asked.

“I don’t know. I’ll call you when I get there.” I dumped an armful of clothes into the suitcase.

“Alexis…”

I stopped and looked at her. “Just take care of Dorian for me, please.”

“Of course. But I really don’t think you should be alone right now, especially after seeing—”

“That’s exactly why—” I cut myself off. I realized the video caused this pull to leave, creating a more intense need than ever to feel his physical presence. But she wouldn’t understand, or, if she did, she’d never let me go. Not that I’d really be alone anyway. She’d never allow it. I took a different direction with her. “I think being alone is exactly what I need. I haven’t been alone for…forever. I’ve felt alone. But there’s always been someone nearby, keeping me from completely letting it all out. Maybe being alone and facing these demons by myself…getting it all out once and for all…is what I need. I don’t know. I just know I need to go.”

I didn’t wait for her response. Nothing she said would stop me. Well, nothing would stop Swirly, anyway. She was obviously in charge right now. I went into my office and packed my laptop and chargers and anything else I would need. Then I went to say good-bye to Dorian.

“Are you going with Dad?” Dorian asked.

“What?” I stared at him in shock.

“His car is outside,” he explained with his six-year-old logic. He glanced out his bedroom window at the Ferrari parked in the driveway.

“Oh, no, honey,” I said, hugging him. “I’m just driving his car. Daddy is still not home.”

“Oh.” His chin quivered.

I gave him another squeeze. “I’ll call you later. Be good for Mimi, okay? I love you.”

“I love you, too, Mom.” His eyes shone with tears. I had to get out of here.

I grabbed my laptop bag, my suitcase and the other bag…Tristan’s bag. I didn’t know why I felt the need to bring it but I did. Maybe I’ll just burn everything and be done with it. Maybe that would bring the closure I need. No, I could never do such a thing. I didn’t want closure. I just wanted that physical connection.

“This is a bad idea,” Mom said, following me outside. I threw the bags into the Ferrari’s passenger seat.

“No, it’s a good idea. Or, at least it is an idea. The first real idea I’ve had, one with purpose, anyway.”

“What kind of purpose, Alexis? You don’t even know where you’re going.”

I didn’t answer her. I got in the car and left. Deep down inside, I did know my destination. After filling up with gas, the direction came automatically. Without a thought, I jumped on I-75 and sped south, then east, and then south again. As far south as the highway would go, as fast as I could go.

Driving the Ferrari induced a rush of adrenaline through my veins. It purred at 120 miles per hour and it felt like no more than seventy. My senses were so highly tuned, I couldn’t even believe the possibility of losing control. I would come up behind someone creeping along at eighty in the left lane and smoothly move to the right, then slip back to the left. As if I was dancing, the car as my partner, and simply gliding around another couple. Instead of the blur of green and brown streaming by, I could see every pine tree, palm and palmetto bush individually. Possibly even every needle and palm frond. I even had some kind of sense for cops, because I automatically slowed down long before I saw the marked cars. I felt so liberated. And crazy…and maniacal…but I tried to ignore those theories.

The farther I put Atlanta behind me, the more this decision felt absolutely right. Perhaps because I felt a sense of release with the idea of being free—free to do what I wanted to do, without watching, measuring eyes. Or maybe it felt right because I headed for a place where Tristan had once been, a place with real memories, a place with his presence. Then again, perhaps I just knew I needed to remove myself from the people I loved. Before I hurt them any more than I already had, especially with this new Evil Alexis, who was even worse than Psycho and Swirly.

That thought brought Dorian’s face to mind and the urge to turn around and run back to him. But something inside me knew this was more important right now. I needed to do this for him, for all of us. Whatever was going on with me right now surely couldn’t last forever. Mom said things would get better, even if they became worse first. And Dorian didn’t need to be around if and when things got worse. Yes, this is exactly what we all need.

The drive should have taken over twelve hours. I approached Miami within five. By 8:30 in the evening, I came to the turn-off to our little key. I slowed down, but…although I’d made this trip specifically to face the beach house and its memories…I couldn’t bring myself to make the turn. Not tonight. Can’t handle it yet. I drove fifty miles farther, to the end, to Key West.