Chapter Five

Still straddling Marquita, Mechteld throws aside the pillow and pulls back her arm to strike Marquita. Before she can throw the punch Marquita covers her mouth and begs, “Wait! Stop! Please!”

   

         Mechteld holds her still clenched fist above Marquita. Her cigarette dangles from her mouth as she breathes hard through barred teeth and flared nostrils. She closely watches the girl cry before finally resting her arm. She stands up and takes a step away. As she does, she closes her eyes and takes a deep breathe. After a moment she looks down at Marquita.

“Are you ready to talk?”

            Marquita’s hands still burn from the sensation of touching Mechteld’s skin. She feels dizzy as an intense pressure grows behind her eyes. The static that surrounded Mechteld still burns in her vision. Marquita blinks furiously trying to rid herself of the slowly fading image. Frantically she begins to rub her eyes and shake her head until finally her sight is normal again. Between sobbing breaths she asks, “I don’t even know you! What do you want with me?”

Mechteld sees that the stitches from on Marquita’s head have opened and her scalp has separated leaving a bloody gash.

“I’ve broken your stitches, I’m sorry.”

She walks over to the belonging lying by her bag and picks up a sewing kit and rag.  She looks over to Marquita and in a slightly domineering voice says, “Let me fix it.”

Marquita feels the gash on her head and then backs away from Mechteld. She drags herself as far back as she can in the small room until she comes to a stop under the room’s only window. In a more insistent voice Mechteld says, “I’m not going to hurt you. Sit on the bed, listen to what I need to say, and let me fix your stitches.”

Marquita doesn’t move towards Mechteld or the bed. Instead she responds by bringing her knees up to her chin and cowering.

“Do you want your head to heal like that? You’ll have an awful part in your hair.”

            Marquita only sits, trying desperately to hold in a sob. Choking sounds come out of her throat while tears bounce off her chin onto her knees. Mechteld can feel her temper rising again. She closes her eyes and cracks her knuckles.

“Fine, I’ll come to you.”

When Mechteld nears Marquita, she instinctively covers her head and shrinks her body lower to the ground. Mechteld slows her pace and approaches with her arms out.

 “I won’t hurt you. Please, just sit there and listen while I fix you up.”

Marquita looks up at Mechteld who’s now at her side. She tries to sound strong, as she cries, “Nothing you say will stop me from seeing my parents.”

“Please, just listen for now.”

Mechteld sits down at the chair next to the window, opens the sewing kit and takes out a spool of black thread. She measures out a few inches of the thread and then reaches for an inch long needle. She quickly threads the needle and then places it between her teeth. Mechteld then takes the rag and turns to Marquita.

Marquita clenches her muscles in anticipation for another intense shock, but receives none. This time Mechteld’s touch feels like hot pricks followed by a numb sensation. Marquita’s vision once again sees static as Mechteld wipes blood away from the open wound.

With the needle still in her mouth, Mechteld starts to speak. Marquita notices her tone is different now. It’s no longer harsh. Instead it takes on a pensive quality that slightly distracts Marquita from the discomfort of her broken stitches.

“When I was a girl I was a lot like you. I was also different and I couldn’t tell anyone. I knew that if I did…” Mechteld’s voice trails off as she thinks about her next sentence, but unable to find the proper words, she continues by saying, “Well, I just knew I never could.”

When Mechteld says this Marquita sees the static pulsate slightly, as if something was pushing from behind it.

Mechteld shortly pauses while setting the now blood soaked rag on the table. She continues after taking the needle out of her mouth. “But one day someone came to me. He was also different. Different like me.”

      

      Mechteld pinches the skin of Marquita’s scalp and then pierces it with the needle. Marquita gives a small wince, but Mechteld continues her story.

“He showed me stories in his head. He showed me impossible things…”

Mechteld pauses in thought and Marquita can see the static once again fluctuate. She then continues, “He told me I was special. He told that there are others like us and that we were rare and revered. He told me that I could be greater; that my ability could be respected and not feared. He told me that I could be these things, but that he would need to change me.”

Marquita open her mouth to speak, but Mechteld continues her story without pausing, “You’re also special Marquita, more special than you can imagine. I’ve been watching you for a while and I know what you can do.”

            Marquita’s body stiffens. She wants to turn her head and look at Mechteld, but the pull of the thread reminds her to sit still. It was rare that anyone could surprise Marquita.

“You’ve been watching me? How is that possible? I would have known. I can hear everyone around me. I can see inside them…”

“Except for me? Am I right?” Mechteld adds as she pulls the needle. She pinches Marquita’s scalp again and starts another stitch. Mechteld continues, “You couldn’t hear me in the hospital and you can’t hear me now even though I literally have my fingers under your skin.”

The thought disgusts Marquita and causes her to squirm, but it elicits a small smile from Mechteld. Mechteld pauses for a brief moment and then curiously asks, “I’m interested in knowing, what do you see when I touch you?”

 “Can’t you just read me and know?”

“I’m giving you your privacy. I know you can see auras around people.”

Marquita is confused by the word, “aura”. After a moment she asks, “You mean their souls?”

Mechteld raises an eyebrow and asks, “Is that what you think it is?”

Marquita gives a small nod, stopping when she feels the pull of the thread. “Of course, almost every living person has it and it disappears when they die.”

Mechteld reflects a moment on Marquita’s answer and then concedes, “Well, if we have souls, I guess that’s what we’re seeing.”

Marquita had always wondered on her own what the colorful halos that she saw around people were, but she had never met anyone that could see them too. When she mentioned what she saw to her mother and a doctor they assumed it was a symptom of her seizures. Marquita didn’t tell them that she saw these halos all the time and that the inner feelings of each person could be expressed by their halos.

The closest thing Marquita saw that resembled the colors she saw with each person were the bright halos of Jesus and the saints and the dark air that surrounded the devil.  When she was a girl she asked her priest about the halos she saw in the church’s icons and he told her the halos showed “God’s divine grace filling their souls”. She had never asked what the black surrounding the devil meant. She only assumed it meant God was not present in the soul of the devil.

 Marquita didn’t know how to interpret Mechteld’s halo. Her halo wasn’t black like the devil’s, but it didn’t have the beautiful radiance of the saints. There were times Marquita saw people surrounded by blackness, but she was too afraid to get close to know their thoughts. Mechteld’s halo was also different from almost everyone she has seen. Mechteld’s was different because Marquita could only see it while in direct contact. 

While Marquita is deep in thought, Mechteld starts the last stitch. As she does she says, “The auras are how is it begun with me. It started when I was a child. I could see what was really inside a person’s heart. I knew if they were lying, scared, happy, or in love.”

            She pulls on the needle one last time and ties a tight knot. While she inspects the stitches she asks again, “What does my aura show you?”

 “I can only see it when I touch you. For most people it’s around them constantly.”

“But not everyone.” Mechteld knowingly adds as she stands up from the chair and walks to her bag.

“Yeah, I never understood why. I thought maybe their souls had left them.” Marquita says. She then cautiously asks, “Are they like you?”

“Like us? Yes.” Mechteld answers as she pulls a bottle of antiseptic from her bag. She pauses as she kneels and then says, “And no. It’s complicated.” Before Marquita can ask about what she meant by “complicated”, Mechteld asks for a third time, “So, what does my aura look like when you touch me?”

“It’s ugly.”

Mechteld quickly pauses when she hears this. To Marquita’s surprise, she gives small laugh and quips, “Ugly aura. Ugly soul. Ugly face. Sounds about right.”

 “It’s like a gray static that surrounds you. It’s trying to block something.”

Marquita notices Mechteld has become stiffer and her eyes dart to different spots in the room. She continues, “You’re trying to push against it, but it’s pushing back.” As Mechteld approaches with the bottle, Marquita looks up at her and locks eyes.

“It wants out.”

Marquita’s comment stops Mechteld from approaching any further and she stands still with the bottle of antiseptic and the bloody rag in her hand.

“Didn’t like that, did you?”

Mechteld opens the antiseptic, wets the rag and then looks into Marquita’s eyes. She returns to her stony demeanor before saying, “This will sting.”

Mechteld slaps the rag hard onto Marquita’s fresh stitches and Marquita recoils with a soft scream. After recovering from the brief pain Marquita looks up to Mechteld and asks, “Why can’t I hear you? I can hear everyone and see their memories, too.”

Mechteld closes the bottle and lays it on the windowsill. She turns to Marquita and says, “I’m a little different. I learned control. I learned how to keep people out. It’s something I hope to teach you.”

For Marquita her ability had always been a one-way street. She could enter others minds, but she had never met someone who could enter hers. She didn’t know that she could protect her mind from others or that she would even need to. The control Mechteld exhibited in her abilities is both astonishing and enticing for Marquita. Her ability had become more sensitive in the last year. Recently, she was even able hear her neighbors thoughts through the walls. Crowded rooms were now unbearable for Marquita and school was torture. Five hundred students attended her school and each day she had to listen to each idle thought that filled their minds. With all the noise she was hardly able to have her own thoughts anymore.

Furthermore, she wasn’t able to keep friends. They wanted to know how she knew certain things about them. Usually, they assumed that Marquita had been gossiping behind their backs and now most of the girls in her grade no longer talked to her.

Marquita knows she needs to learn the type of control Mechteld possesses.  As each day passes her ability grows stronger and she sees herself succumbing to the madness that has inflicted others in her family. It’s why the surgery was vital to Marquita. Removing the tumor would not only save her physical life, but also finally give her mind relief from the now insufferable voices around her. Marquita now wonders, did the doctors remove the tumor? She remembers them starting the surgery. If they had, then it was now clear that the tumor wasn’t the cause of her ability.            

“How long have you been watching me?” Marquita asks.

 “I encountered your father about two years ago. I was able to read from him that he had a daughter who’s psychic and also in bad health. I’ve kept an eye on you since.”

Marquita feels complete disbelief. For two years this person has been able to watch her without her knowledge. Questions spring into Marquita head: Is this true? How is it possible? Why did she just watch? Why did she keep herself a secret? What has she seen?

Mechteld continues, “When I learned that you’d be having a risky surgery I knew I couldn’t pass up the opportunity.”

Confused, Marquita asks, “Opportunity for what?”

“To change you before you died.” Mechteld’s voice is serious, but the answer is mysterious to Marquita. Again she hears the word “change” and it confuses her. Besides her legs being weak and the new scar on her head, she looks and feels the same.

“To change me? Into what? I’m the same.”

“You’re not.” Mechteld says, her voice becoming edgier and more excited. “Everyone thinks you died Marquita, but you never did. You didn’t die then and you won’t die now.” Mechteld pauses and watches Marquita for any reaction. After receiving none Mechteld continues, “You never will because I changed you.”