I try to open my eyes, but they too are heavy and I feel a rising pain in my head. My neck is really stiff and my whole body is aching, sending pulsing pain signals to my brain. I open my eyes and notice Mum next to me.
‘Ania,’ she says. I can always tell when she has been crying.
My memory is hazy and I fail to recall what’s happened exactly. The dream seemed so realistic; I close my eyes, trying to focus and remember parts of it, but the images are disappearing so quickly.
‘What's happened?’ I ask, opening my eyes again.
‘How are you feeling?’ asks the man with the white coat, as he leans over to look at me more closely. He has dark eyes and must be in his mid-forties. I try to move my legs but my body refuses to respond. I feel like I have been sleeping for a while. I blink rapidly as my memory comes flooding back to me in flashes. I try to remember everything. I try to get up but my body is too weak.
‘What happened to Amy? Is she okay?’ I ask.
I feel the blood drain from my face as Mum’s flashes with fear. She drops her eyes and starts flexing her fingers.
‘You have been in a coma for the past two weeks, so your muscles are not used to movements yet. Try to relax,’ says the doctor.
‘What? I’ve been in a coma for two weeks?’ I say disbelievingly, my voice husky.
The doctor is right; I can't move my neck and my head is still hurting. I can't believe what I am hearing, I couldn't have been in a coma for two weeks. What about Amy? I look around the room. Where the hell is Gabriel? My mother is looking at me with tears in her eyes and she squeezes my hand.
‘Yes, Ania, please calm down. There is more bad news,’ says Mum while my heartbeat quickens.
How there could be more bad news? I look at my mother, thinking that she is lying to me. I try to remember what happened after we left the party, but my mind is blank. I remember the guy who appeared on the street and wanted to help us. I take a deep breath as I feel dizzy and sick and soon the uncomfortable sensation passes away.
‘Tell me,’ I whisper.
She looks at the doctor and he nods.
‘Amy is dead. You were attacked.’
I don’t register what she says. Amy can't be dead; she was only with me yesterday. My mind is blank and my heart is racing in my chest.
‘Dead,’ I whisper, not believing my own words. ‘It's impossible.’
‘She died within seconds. We’re not exactly sure of what happened, but there’s nothing that you could’ve done,’ says the doctor.
I’m not listening. Amy is gone and I didn't do anything to stop the bastard who killed her because I was too drunk. I cover my head with my hands.
‘The police are pushing to speak with you and as I am your doctor, it's up to me to decide if you're okay for that.’
My mother is silent. I’m hoping that in a few seconds I’ll wake up and everything will turn out to be one more ridiculous dream. I try to pinch myself, but it doesn't work. The pain in my head is unbearable.
‘You have to speak with the police, Ania. You have to tell them what happened,’ says Mum, looking at me.
I nod, realising that I am looking at the woman who lied to me all my life, but I can't deal with this right now. I feel as if my heart has been replaced with a heavy stone. Guilt slowly creeps over me.
‘Miss Petrova, should I let them in?’ asks the doctor.
I nod as he finishes checking my pulse. I think about what I will tell Amy's parents when I see them.
A woman and a man enter my room. The man is short and overweight with strange, dark eyes; the woman is slightly taller and skinnier than he is and has a long face with small olive eyes. An image of Amy's face when she was lying on the street, the blood and her still eyes flash before me. I close my eyes and shake my head to get the image out of my mind.
‘My name is Detective Sergeant Stuart and this is Detective Constable Smith. Miss Petrova, can we ask you a few questions about the incident?’ asks the woman.
I nod.
‘As you have just been told, Miss Roberts is dead. We have been working on this case for a few weeks now but, as you are the only witness, we have not been able to get the full story of what happened that night.’
I only register part of what she is saying. I take a deep breath and try to recollect as much as I can remember from that fatal night.
‘We were out at one of the house parties on campus. I was drunk and Amy was trying to get me home. I wasn’t feeling very well and I had definitely drunk too much. Amy was fine, but we had to stop because I was sick and couldn't walk. I don’t remember what time we left the party, but the streets were empty, so it was probably late. Then this guy appeared on the street and started talking to us. I don't really remember what happened after that, but I think he stabbed her and then I passed out.’
They both give me a smile of acknowledgement.
‘Can you describe the man who attacked you?’ asks Detective Smith. The man is taking notes, glancing at me from time to time.
‘It was dark and I couldn't see him clearly. He was wearing a hood and was tall – over six feet two, but I don't remember anything else. I was too drunk.’
‘Over six feet tall. Is there anything else at all that you can recall about his appearance or the events of the night?’
‘I’m sorry, no. His accent wasn’t local, but I might be wrong,’ I answer, confused. ‘How did Amy die?’
‘She was stabbed several times. At first, we didn’t understand why she was wearing a wig, but after interviewing a few of the other students, we found out that it was a fancy dress-up party. I have read your file. Do you think this murder could have something to do with what happened to you back in September?’
I stare at Detective Smith, trying to understand what she is insinuating. I don't remember anything from the day that I was attacked either.
‘I don't know. Maybe he wanted me, but got her because he thought she was me,’ I speculate.
‘Why anyone would want to kill you?’ asks Detective Sgt Stuart.
‘I am asking myself the same question.’
In the end, the two detectives leave looking unsatisfied, as I haven’t told them anything that they didn’t already know. My memories are tangled, but I feel that the man who attacked us wanted me instead of her. That night I was supposed to be the one that was to be killed, not Amy. I’m not sure how I can face Amy's mother; her daughter is dead because of me.
I am alone in the room. I wonder where Gabriel is; I need him right now. Instead, a few minutes later, Mum comes back looking worried. When I look at her, all the memories from London and the adoption papers come back to me. I stare at her in disbelief. All the lies she has kept up for all these years and now she stands here, still lying to me.
‘When is the funeral?’ I ask, looking away. I can’t even face her; she is a stranger to me now and no longer my mother.
‘She was already buried a few days ago. The doctors were not sure if you were going to wake up,’ she says, sitting next to me. She somehow looks older than usual.
I can't stand this pretence any longer and feel like I have to confront her. ‘Mum, I know that I am adopted,’ I say.
She pauses and then a look of guilt spreads across her face.
‘How did you find out?’ she asks and the tears start streaming down her cheeks.
I look at her and feel nothing. ‘Spare me your tears; you have been lying to me my whole life.’ The anger grows inside of me.
‘You didn't need to know. We were always happy,’ she says, looking at me with pain in her eyes.
‘Happy living a life of lies!’ I shout, losing control. I am shaking as I stare at the woman I called 'Mother' my entire life.
‘I’m sorry, Ania. I was afraid that I would lose you if you knew the truth.’
I laugh when she says that. The reality of this woman’s sad and lonely life, full of lies, hits me. Grief and anger are the only emotions that I can see when I look at her.
 
; ‘You expect me to forgive you just like that?’
‘You are my daughter. I tried to raise you the best I could.’
The memories of her trying to control me all the time are coming up. She was a good mother, but she was also possessive, trying to keep me locked up.
‘Why did we leave Russia so suddenly?’ I ask, hoping that she would finally tell me the truth, but her body tightens and fear appears in her eyes. She knows that the story about the new life in the UK won’t work today and I want to know what else she is hiding.
‘I told you: I got this job in London and wanted to start over in a country with more opportunities,’ she says, but I know she is lying.
She had another chance to tell the truth, but she continues to lie to me. The anger grows inside me and I am shaking. The blood drains from my face.
‘Get out!’
‘What? Why?’
She doesn't understand but I don't care anymore; I don't want to listen to her lies.
‘You are still lying to me. If you're not prepared to tell me the truth, then I don't want to see you,’ I say firmly.
I expect her to apologise and start revealing what else she's been hiding all these years, but she is silent. I look at the door and then drop my gaze. She takes her purse and leaves the room without saying anything else. I am shocked and surprised that she wasn’t prepared to stay and fight. I stare at the door for a minute, wondering whether she will come back. She doesn't.
I really want to see Gabriel. I try to call him in my mind, but the room remains empty. I fall asleep while wondering if I can change the past and have my friend back. A few hours later, the doctor tells me that I need to be moved to another room. He is amazed because he thought that I was a lost cause; everyone thought that I would never wake up. I think about poor Amy and my mother who betrayed me so easily.
The next day, I wake up late; I have slept well through the morning. I have lunch and after that the nurse transports me to another room where I hope to see Gabriel. I promise myself that I won't think about Natasha.
The new room is more comfortable; I share it with a few more patients, mostly elderly women. Despite this, the lack of Sprites around begins worrying me. After a series of checkups, the doctor advises me that I have to stay in the hospital for two more days and if everything is all right after that, I can go home. In the evening, I manage to walk. All my muscles are stiff, but I am determined to move. I can't stand lying in bed any longer. I don’t have any visitors to keep me occupied, so I busy myself with walking to the corridor and recovering my strength.
The sooner I can get better, the sooner I can get out of here and see Gabriel. He is probably trying to teach me a lesson, but I am hurt and I wonder why he isn't with me. Unfortunately, everything seems to be normal. There aren’t any Sprites around, just ordinary people. I have been so used to seeing them everywhere so now it feels strange not having them around at all. I try to be patient and wait for him in the nights, but he doesn’t come back. The days are passing by and everything remains the same. Slowly I begin to wonder if I have lost not only my best friend, but also my ability to see Sprites. The grief and pain worsens as the realisation dawns on me that I may have lost Gabriel forever.
I am allowed to leave the hospital at the beginning of May; no one is waiting to take me home. I get a phone call from Gosia, who is concerned about everything that's happened. She knows my housemate Amy is dead. Natasha told her about the attack, but failed to mention anything about my adoption. When I tell her the whole truth, at first Gosia doesn't believe that Natasha isn't my real mother. It takes her a few minutes to realise that it isn't a joke and then she says to give Natasha more time. She will tell me the truth soon enough.
Carl calls me unexpectedly; he apologises that he and Michael haven't been to see me in hospital. They have been in the middle of exams and haven’t been able to make it. I tell him not to worry about it. He sounds tired and says that Amy's parents have already been around to empty her room and some journalist keeps coming to the house to ask about me.
My life is falling apart and I am sure that someone is after me. Amy is dead because of me and everything feels so empty without her. Before the doctors allow me to leave the hospital, I am given clear instructions that I need to take it easy. People are passing by, unaware that someone else is looking out for them. They are there but we just can't see them.
My ability that I had been cursing so much is completely gone; I am no longer special. I’m ordinary. I am trying to convince myself that maybe it is only temporary and tomorrow morning when I wake up I will see Gabriel again, but deep down, I know that I am lying to myself. Suddenly, I realise that I will never see him again; I will never get to touch his warm skin, caress his hair and stare into his blue eyes. I don't want to cry. My tears won't change anything and this can't be fixed.
I take my bag and jump into a taxi, trying not to think about what's ahead of me. When I get home, it is still early and the house seems to be empty. There are lots of flowers by the door and a few candles in Amy’s memory. The guilt creeps over me; I’m ashamed that I am more upset about the loss of my ability rather than the loss of my friend, who had a full life ahead of her.
I don't sleep during the night. Instead, I try to remember the face of the man who killed my friend, but everything is hazy and unclear. An uneasy silence hums in my ears as I try to sleep. In the morning I walk to the kitchen, trying to act normal, but Amy’s memories are imbedded in the house. She is all that I can see. While the kettle is boiling, I open the fridge to make a cheese and onion sandwich. I can’t remember the last time that I ate.
‘So you finally woke up?’
I jerk, surprised. Richard is standing by the door, staring at me. I open my mouth to say something, but he just doesn't look right. His clothes are dirty and his hair is in a mess, tangled and scruffy. He looks like he’s lost weight.
‘Richard, you scared me,’ I say, staring at his brown eyes. He looks as though he hasn’t slept in a while. ‘Are you okay?’
‘She wasn't supposed to die,’ he says, coming closer to me.
I breathe through my nose as the stench of stale alcohol hits me suddenly.
‘I know Richard and I’m so sorry.’
He stares at me with his eyes full of pain; I can see that he looks confused.
‘Would you like a cuppa?’ I ask.
He ignores me.
‘You know it was supposed to be you,’ he whispers.
I freeze. My hands are shaking. The cold expression on his face scares me. He is grieving over Amy's death, but there’s something sinister in his look. His eyes are faraway, unreadable.
‘How do you know?’ I ask, swallowing hard. I step away slightly.
‘I know about the fancy party. You were supposed to die that night.’
He turns away from me, grabbing his hair and starts making whining, sobbing noises. Now I am certain that he needs help.
‘Calm down, Richard. Everything’s going to be okay,’ I say, but I am afraid to touch him.
‘What's going on here?’ says Carl as he enters the kitchen.
Richard looks at him, his face red and his eyes uneasy. I smile weakly, giving Carl a nod as he looks at both of us, confused.
‘Someone wants you dead and I mean it,’ states Richard.
He pushes past Carl and walks out of the kitchen. I breathe out, trying to digest what's happened to Richard. Carl stares at me.
‘Don't ask. I don't know what's got into him; he is grieving,’ I explain.
After a few seconds, Carl walks over to me and hugs me. It’s nice to know that someone cares about me. I hold Carl, taking in his cologne.
‘I’m glad that you are all right,’ he says. ‘I miss Amy and this house won't be the same without her.’
‘I know. How is Amy's mum?’ I ask.
‘All her family is devastated; her sisters can’t believe that she’s dead. They couldn’t stop crying when they came for Amy’s things
and I just couldn't stay in the house. It hurt too much.’
I pat him on the shoulder and then make him a cup of tea. He fills me in on what’s happened while I’ve been in hospital. The police have been interviewing the whole neighbourhood and everyone at university is still in shock. He tells me that he couldn't face going to the funeral; he couldn’t bear to see the pain on everyone’s faces. Richard came back few days later when I was still in a coma. The police had questioned him too, but he was released; apparently he had an alibi. I didn’t believe that Richard would kill her anyway. Besides, the killer was tall and Richard is shorter. As I walk back to my room, I think about Richard. How did he know that I was supposed to be dead, not Amy?
In the evening, I can't take the silence any longer. My phone is quiet and I think of calling Natasha, but I change my mind after thinking that if I hadn't discovered the adoption certificate, she would continue to pretend that she is the one who gave birth to me. I order a pizza, hoping that food will shift my miserable mood, but I can’t bring myself to eat. The exhaustion takes over and I fall asleep. I wake up in the middle of the night and switch on the light. It is one in the morning; the exact time that Gabriel would materialise.
‘Gabriel,’ I whisper, but no one answers. Feeling lost again, I close my eyes and I dream to forget.
17