Chapter 11
Ava
My bedroom was usually my safe space, a quiet corner in a world that often felt too loud for my senses. But tonight, it felt like a prison. My parents' words kept playing in my head, a broken record of disbelief: *"Imagination... silly... don't go digging."* And then, like a cold, sharp blade, my mother's voice cut through the noise: *"A new house, a new husband."*
*New husband.* The phrase haunted me. It twisted everything I thought I knew about Avina. She'd never had a husband before Dave. I would know! We were sisters, practically inseparable growing up. Every boyfriend, every crush, every tear over a breakup – I was there. There was no secret marriage, no hidden past love. So why would Mom say that? Did she truly believe it? Or was her memory also being twisted, just like Avina's seemed to be? The thought sent a shiver down my spine. This wasn't just about Avina being controlled; it was about the truth itself being warped, bent into a lie so deep, it affected everyone around us.
I picked up my phone, wanting to call Mr. Theron, but it was too late. He had told me to be careful, to be patient, to strengthen myself. My frustration burned, but under it was a cold, hard resolve. If my own parents were caught in this strange web, either unwilling to see or actively part of the deception, then I truly was alone.
I remembered Mr. Theron's words: *"Pray harder... meditate... visualize a protective light."* I had to try. I needed to be strong, not just for myself, but for Avina. She was lost in a fog, and I was her only light. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and tried to focus. The world outside my room faded, and I tried to find that quiet, bright place within me.
I kept meditating, trying to clear my mind, trying to build that protective light Mr. Theron spoke of. The hours passed, but I didn't feel tired. Instead, a strange energy hummed through me. My thoughts drifted to Avina, a deep ache in my chest. I visualized her, trying to send her strength, to surround her with light.
Suddenly, the quiet in my room changed. It wasn't just silence anymore. It was like the air itself began to shimmer, to hum with an ancient energy. Images flashed behind my closed eyelids, not like regular thoughts, but sharp, vivid pictures, like a broken film reel playing out of order.
I saw Avina. But it wasn't the Avina I knew now. She looked younger, somehow, her eyes brighter, less clouded. She was wearing a wedding dress, a beautiful white gown, but it wasn't the one she wore with Dave. This one looked older, more classic. And standing next to her was Dave. He looked different too, younger, with a smile that reached his eyes, a genuine warmth I rarely saw now. They were laughing, holding hands, looking at each other with pure, deep love. They were in a church, but it wasn't the church from their recent wedding.
Then the scene shifted, jarringly. I saw Avina, heavily pregnant, her belly round, her face glowing with happiness. She was in a different house, a cozy, bright home, filled with sunlight and soft colors – nothing like the cold, imposing mansions they lived in now. Dave was there too, his arm around her, kissing her forehead. They looked like the perfect, happy family.
Another flash. A baby. A tiny, perfect little girl, with Avina's bright eyes and Dave's dark hair. Avina was holding her, singing softly, her face filled with a mother's love. Dave was beside her, smiling, touching the baby's tiny hand. It was a picture of pure joy, a complete family.
Then the joy was gone. The light faded. The scene blurred, twisting into shadows. I heard a baby crying, that same desperate, heartbroken cry from my dream, but it sounded closer now, more real. And then, a sense of cold, deep sorrow, a crushing weight that made my own heart ache. It was as if all the happiness had been violently ripped away. The images spun faster, becoming chaotic, then dissolved into darkness.
My eyes flew open. My room was still dark, silent, but I was trembling. My skin felt cold, covered in goosebumps. What was that? Was it a dream? A vision? It felt too real, too vivid to be just a dream.
*Avina was married to Dave before? They had a child?* The thought was terrifying. It wasn't just "a new husband." It was a *new life*, a *new history*, perhaps, for Avina. Was this the "duplicate lie" Mr. Theron talked about? A whole previous life, wiped away? The happy Avina, the one with the child, the one in the bright, cozy home – where was she? What happened to her? And where was that baby?
My parents' words came back, *"A new husband."* They weren't lying about Avina having a new husband. They were living a lie, maybe even believing it, that Dave was Avina's *first* husband. It seemed everyone's memories were being tai reality itself.
I got out of bed, needing to move, needing to do something. My immediate next step was clear. I needed to see Avina again. Not just to check on her, but to look for signs, for echoes of the life I just saw. And I will go to talk to Mr. Theron, right after visiting Avina. That vision… it was the key.
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Meanwhile, across Kempton Park, in the grand mansion, Dave stood in the dimly lit hallway. He held a small, dark glass bottle in his hand. His father's voice, smooth and calm on the phone earlier, had been a sharp command: "Ensure she takes the supplement, David. For her rest. It's crucial for the process to continue undisturbed."
Dave walked into their bedroom. Avina was already there, sitting on the edge of the bed, her eyes half-closed, a distant look on her face. She seemed more withdrawn than usual, almost like a doll.
"Here, honey," Dave said, his voice softer than he felt. He held out the bottle. "Dad sent this. Says it will help you sleep better."
Avina blinked slowly, then reached out a hand, taking the bottle without question. She swallowed the liquid without a fuss, her movements slow and automatic. A moment later, she lay down, turning her back to him. Her breathing quickly became deep and even, almost too soon.
Dave watched her, a knot of unease twisting in his gut. It was too easy. Too fast. He remembered his father's words from yesterday, about Avina being "chosen" and "sensitive," about the "process." And then his own blank nights, the missing memories of intimacy. He wished he could just blame stress, but a chilling thought began to form: was *this* the "proper rest" his father talked about? This deep, unnaturally fast sleep that took away her awareness, and his memories? He pushed the thought away. It couldn't be. Dad knew best. He had to. He left the room, pulling the door shut behind him, the silence of the house pressing down.
----End of chapter
What do you think Ava will do when she tries to see Avina again, armed with this terrifying vision? And what will Mr. Theron's reaction be to her new revelations?
Tbc....