Transcend by Christine Fonseca

this affliction. I don’t know how or why. But, it’s the only explanation for the distortions of my face, the wounds that will not heal. And the madness that seeps up from the depths of me; a madness I have always known…
     
     “They’re back, aren’t they? The scary dreams?” A young Jenna, eight or nine years old, sneaks into my room.
    “Yes,” I manage to reply in a shaky voice. “I know they aren’t real. But…they scare me.”
    “It’s okay. I’ll help you.” She sits on the bed next to me. “Tell me about your music. Anything to get your mind off of things.”
         
    I told Jenna everything back then—all about the visions and the voices. She never judged. And somehow telling her made the noise stop. Until we grew up, and she became a member of the household staff.
    The chaos came back after that. Only music could quiet the noise. Music and Kiera. And now they’re gone.
    Because of Mother.
    The noise grows in my thoughts, enveloping me in a madness I can’t control. I want to die in a way I never thought possible. Need to die.
    Please God, help me. End this curse, let me die. Show mercy on me.
    Music weaves through the wreckage in my mind, filling the spaces around me. Every note acts as a haunting reminder of what I’ve lost:
    James.
    Music.
    Kiera.
    I can’t control the growing torment. The landscape of my thoughts churns with my anguish, a kaleidoscope of emptiness reforming with my mind. I don’t want to be here, but I can’t find a way out.
    I touch my face, prepared for the mixture of bone and flesh I’m sure to find. Only smooth skin greets my fingers. There are no traces of the wounds, no sign of Mother’s curse. Impossibly, I’m whole.
    “Were you expecting something else?” Erik emerges from the shadows. “You’re not broken here, in the recesses of your thoughts. Here, you are whole. Here, you create your world. You are in control.”
    Control . The word envelops me as my breathing slows.  
    “Are you ready to listen to me now?” Erik’s voice sends a sliver of fear, forcing the landscape to bend.
    “You aren’t real. You can’t be.”
    “How can you be so sure?”
    The landscape continues to twist as vertigo threatens to overwhelm my senses. I focus, quieting my thoughts. My world responds and the dizziness fades.
    “If you do exist,” I say to my brother. “Why can I only see you when I dream?”
    “You only want to see me then. I can bleed into your waking thoughts if you wish. Be with you always.”
    “Why are you here at all? I don’t need you.” A familiar hate blooms in my chest, darkening the world around me.
    “Haven’t I always tried to help you?” Erik rounds on me, exploding chills down my spine. “Haven’t I always protected you?” He hisses in my ear.
    My mind drifts to our days as children. Erik. The older brother. The stronger brother. Smart. Handsome. Determined. The only one of us destined to fulfill every Montgomery expectation.
    Thankfully.
    I never wanted to be Mother’s puppet, never wanted to give up my life, never wanted to live without music.
    “I gave you your own life,” Erik whispered. “Let you ditch our family’s responsibilities.”
    “And then you died.”
    “You’re blaming that on me?” His voice carries a familiar malice.
    “No, it’s just—”
    “Ien, stop.”
    I can’t trust his saccharine tone.
    “I’m here to help you, like always.”
    I want to believe him, ignore the panic swirling through me. I need him to be real, to save me from my life.
    “Dream up a life with Kiera. Or music. Anything. Hide here and live in that life. Just for a little while.”
    His words are soothing. The landscape responds, becoming the meadow once more. I look toward Erik.
    “Go. Trust me.”
    I know I shouldn’t.
    Kiera appears in the meadow, her arms open. I walk to her as a cloak materializes around me, covering my face. I stop, panic gripping my chest. Is the deformity back? I brush my fingers over my cheek,