Page 11 of Mea Culpa

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Dakota: Sure.

Turner: I can be there.

Harper: I have to drop Elliott off at Sharon’s in an hour, but after that, I’m free.

Van: Lennie and I were just going over some new specs, but we can both be there, too. Just tell us when.

Well, it seemed the gang was all in.

Me: How’s 3?

Everybody responded that it worked for them, so I headed out for some snacks and cleaned up a little downstairs, getting everything ready. I hated that I’d have to go back to thefakeme, but I took comfort in the fact that it would be the last time I’d have to do it around my friends. I only had to do it for the viewing audience after today.

Two hours later, we had a full house, and everybody was chatting and catching up. I tried to enjoy the chatter, but my anxiety was way ramped up, and I was doing everything I could to keep my breathing even and my heart rate down. I’d chugged an entire bottle of water already, and my throat still felt as dry as sandpaper.

I caught myself fidgeting and tried to go still. Dev came over, startling me a bit. “I know why I wanted to call everybody together, but why did you? My intuition is on high alert here, Lark.”

I sighed. I should have known he’d sense something. I’d be willing to bet that Dakota was feeling twitchy, too. “I just have something I’d like to tell the team, and I only wanted to do it once.”

The look of disquiet and care he gave me almost made me tear up. “That sounds serious. Can I do anything?” he asked.

I shook my head, feeling the warmth of his concern wash over me like a soothing tide but needing to hold those emotions off. I needed to be a bit distanced right now. The things that would likely come at me as I told the story would be overwhelming enough. “No, just let me get it out, and then let’s talk about it.”

He nodded and then slung an arm around my shoulders, pulling me in for a hug. I felt my throat clog and tears prick the backs of my eyes, but I swallowed it all down. I simply wrapped my arms around him and soaked up his strength, feeling his magic seep into my skin. Dev had been such a great friend to me. I didn’t know what I’d do without him. Honestly, I didn’t know what I’d do without any of the people in the room. They had become my family, and I loved them dearly.

Dev went to sit at the table with everybody else, and I straightened my spine, preparing for what I was about to do today. I didn’t fear telling them the story. I feared talking about it. I worried how it would make me feel and that I may not be able to control my body’s reaction to the trauma. Besides, bringing it up almost felt like inviting it in again. And having Kholt back in my life was enough change. Enough of a tie to a time I didn’t want to remember. I felt like bits and pieces of my past just kept creeping in, threatening to topple me and upend my life. Unfortunately, I had no choice. It was time.

I took a deep breath. I had thought out how to do this, how to lay it all out without breaking down or revealing anything that could potentially put me or any of them in danger. I just hoped I could do it as I had planned and get everything out before I lost it.

In the voice they were familiar with, myTV voice, I said, “I wanted you all here so I could tell you something I probably should have told you three years ago.”

The looks on the faces flashed from worried to confused, then concerned to suspicious. I had to soldier on, so I took another deep breath and dropped the accent, modulating my pitch to what it usually was when I wasn’t being filmed. “I’m not the person you think I am.” Just saying the words iced my blood, and the shocky zaps of electricity that lit my veins almost made me gasp.

The room erupted in chaotic noise and energy, everybody looking at each other and talking over one another. I wasn’t sure how to get things back on track, and the loss of control nearly brought tears again, but Dev handled that for me.

“Guys, give Lark a chance to explain. She called us here for a reason. We know her. We love her. If she’s adopting a persona, she likely has a damn good reason. And I, for one, would like to know why she felt that was necessary. Because it clearly wasn’t for shits and giggles.”

That had everybody nodding, mumbling, and gesturing or telling me to continue.

My stomach fluttered, but I just took another deep breath and sat. “What I’m about to tell you is difficult for me.” I swallowed hard. “It’s something I had hoped to leave behind completely. But, unfortunately, that’s not an option anymore as things from that past have come knocking.” I looked around and took in everyone’s faces, the visages of those I loved. For the most part, they looked understanding, though I felt the confusion and concern and it made my heart ache. But I also felt an underlying current of anger in the room and wasn’t sure where it came from. Aaron looked the most put out. He hated liars; I knew that much—something about his past that I never pried into. It could be him. I just hoped I could make him understand.

“Thirty-one years ago, my mom and I moved from Lafayette to an old and beautiful little settlement: Natchitoches.” I remembered how quaint the town had been and how much it’d felt like home the first couple of years we were there. “My dad had left us two years before that, just as I turned two, and Mom was looking for . . . something. She’d always been a spiritual person, finding comfort in going to church and seeing her psychic—contradictory to some, I know, but it was what it was. But then I started exhibiting my magical powers, and it changed something in her. She sought answers to life and thought she’d found them with a group living in the Cane River Historical area.”

I paused, worry rising that the questions would start already, but everyone still just watched me raptly. So, I continued.

“They were an eclectic bunch. Lots of artists like my mom, musicians, artisans, tradespeople. Both those with abilities—empathy, telepathy, psychometry—and those without. And they all had varying religious and spiritual backgrounds. The one thing they had in common, though, was that they believed the things the community’s leader told them. Their underlying belief was that through him, as the Divine’s prophet on Earth, they would find eternal life in this world until the end days, and that when those end days came, as long as they had followed his doctrine, they would return to claim the world.” I felt nausea rise.

After I swallowed down the bile, I paused. When nobody said anything, I just came out with it. “Yes, I was raised in a cult. For twelve years.”

The room erupted again, a million questions coming at me all at once. To my surprise, Dakota was the one who pounded on the table.

“Guys. GUYS!” she yelled and pounded again. “Let’s let her finish, okay? I’m sure she’ll let us all ask questions later, but this can’t be easy.”

I saw a succession of nods and then prepared myself to tell the rest. That part was the easy bit. The rising tide of panic made me feel like I had bugs crawling all over my skin, and I shuddered in response.

I closed my eyes and took a couple of deep breaths, gathering all those wild tendrils of energy that were getting out of hand and pulling them back in to become a nice tight ball of white light around me. On my last breath, I felt my feet connected to the floor and pulled that energy up through my crown chakra, calling on the strength of earth, the flexibility of water, the lightness of air, and the determination of fire to help me continue.

I opened my eyes and took in their faces. “I was only four when we joined, and my mom immediately became a favorite of the cult leader—the so-called prophet. They got married in short order. At first, things were great. Mom had finally found some of the answers she had been seeking and a sense of security. A place to belong. And I felt that, too. I had this wonderful, caring family with a stalwart belief system, and everybody treated us like royalty. But as I got older, I started noticing that many things didn’t seem right. Several family members were giving up their abilities to our leader. I didn’t understand why or how—I still don’t know for sure—but the one thing I did know was that losing that fundamental piece of who they were changed and broke them. They were never the same. Which made them even easier to manipulate and control.”


Tags: Rayvn Salvador Paranormal