Getting away from the war zone was complicated. There were too many things happening and too many eyes were searching for targets and opportunity. We couldn’t risk Donna being identified or the other me making a scene. This forced us to be on our own and to move on foot. Even with Donna sensing the best possible outcomes ahead of us, food, shelter, and money were tricky to come by. It was slow going. To keep us alive, Donna used her ability to liberate stashes of money and food from different people and places without being noticed. We specifically took from people of the criminal and terror oriented variety. She wanted to serve justice in one way or another to those people but her priority was keeping us unseen.
If that wasn’t sketchy enough, there was my emotional state to contend with, which at the time was iffy at best. Publicly, not that we carried on publicly very much, I was able to keep things together pretty well. Privately… Donna had a lot to deal with. I had some bad moments where I blew up on her in spite of me trying to keep my monster from coming out. If you wanted to label me as being verbally abusive, I couldn’t argue otherwise. Sometimes I got mad at Donna because she didn’t tell me things. Sometimes I got mad because she was just silent. Sometimes I was mad because I just needed to be mad. Of course I didn’t know her silence and omissions were due to the gaps in her senses and the mental blocks. Weirdly during all those bad moments the feral me never even twitched.
There were also my moments of manic crying and panic, with the occasional nightmares and sleep terrors thrown in for good measure. Imagine having to try and sleep next to someone who could punch a hole in concrete if the right bad dream struck. Yeah, that happened once. Okay maybe more than once. Fortunately she could sense when to move out of my reach when sleep took me to bad places. I can’t imagine how tense she must have been knowing my episodes were coming and knowing she could do nothing to help me. Though honestly, I’m not sure there was anything she could have said or done to make me feel better. Donna had no option but to be there for me. And she did it thanklessly. Because of her ability to see and feel through time, she already loved me.
Eventually we made it to Turkey. Fortunately Donna’s gift allowed us to find people we could interact with without having too much of a language barrier. She did this everywhere we went. Donna snuck us across the border and we made our way to the city of Diyarbakır. From there she found a smuggler and paid our way to Pakistan by helping him navigate a cargo plane through mountains and radar coverage. We ended up living in Karachi for a few months. Donna worked to keep us clothed, fed, and sheltered by helping unsavory types complete illicit activities while avoiding authorities. She didn’t like it but we needed the money.
During that time, little by little, she was able to explain the gaps in her time sense and the mental blocks. Slowly, I began to understand. I was also getting a little better at controlling my outbursts but I was still horrible to her sometimes. Not as much yelling, but there was still plenty of anger and attitude. I wasn’t even angry at her so much as I was just angry and I could let it out on her because I knew she wouldn’t leave me. I was also beginning to view Donna as a parental figure which made a part of me want her to punish me for being a monster. But no matter how bad I acted, she never raised a hand or her voice. I’m still embarrassed by how I acted back then. My behavior only changed after a particularly bad tantrum of mine. I found Donna crying, rocking, hitting herself in the head, and telling herself to “Just say something.” It finally dawned on me how much the problem was tearing her apart and how much I was helping to break her down. It sat next to her and stayed quiet. Then I leaned on her.
“I’m sorry.” she said, still crying.
“I sorry too.” I replied.
Donna tirelessly worked to give me the best life she could. She had a lot to handle being officially dead, age twenty two, on the run, and now raising a tween with major guilt, survivor, and murder monster issues, who also had the potential to cause mass deadly destruction. Fortunately, things never came to that mass murder and destruction part. From then on I did better at keeping my emotions in check and managed to not explode on her. Sometimes I went to the opposite extreme where I seemed like a robot. Donna actually had to encourage me to not be so controlled. It wasn’t that I had worked through some of my trauma. Emotional protection, or more accurately containment, became part of the power package. I could now compartmentalize and suppress my feelings and emotions like no other. Of course anxiety didn’t get suppressed at all. Because why not?
When Donna sensed it was the best time to leave Pakistan, we paid our way onto a “fishing boat” that was bound for India. I don’t know how much she paid the boat’s captain, but it was enough for him to not think twice about letting us aboard. He spoke pretty good English so communication was not a big issue. What almost became an issue was me speaking after we boarded.
“So what do I call you two?” he asked.
We obviously didn’t want to use our real names.
“You can call me Arya.” said Donna.
Her accent was purposely ambiguous. She sounded like she could have been from the Middle East or South Asia. The captain just nodded. He knew the name was fake but having something to call her just made it easier.
“My cousin is…” Donna began to say.
“Sahar. My name is Sahar.” I blurted out.
I closed my eyes tightly and cursed myself. I don’t even know why I opened my mouth. The plan was for Donna to introduce us but my anxiety welled up and caused my brain to tell my mouth to say something. Donna didn’t show much of a reaction although I could tell she tensed up.
“Sahar?” asked the captain.
He scratched his chin. Smuggling was easier if people could keep cool under pressure. Donna produced another envelop of money from her jacket.
“Enjoy the trip.” said the captain, pocketing the envelope.
He didn’t talk to us for the rest of the way. Donna sat on the rail of the boat and shook her head. She smiled and suppressed a laugh but I didn’t notice. Obviously I still had a long way to go in the area of playing it cool. I stepped up to her with defeated shoulders and started apologizing.
“I’m sorry. I got nervous and I just said a name.” I said.
“Sahar?” she asked.
I shrugged and admitted that I had been thinking of giving myself a new name.
“It’s the same letters in my name, just twisted around.” I said.
There was more behind my choice that I didn’t want to say but she picked up on it pretty fast.
“It’s a good name. Don’t use it to signify a twisted version of you. You are a different you but you are not twisted.” she said.
I just nodded and looked away. Donna pulled me in for a hug and held me for almost a minute. Then she whispered into my ear.
“You are still the Sarah who your parents loved and were proud of.” she said.
Donna released her embrace and held me in front of her. It was strange having her express this much affection and familiarity with me. I could tell that she loved me. Thanks to her power, I was already her little sister. It was somewhat of an unconscious decision. She knew she would love me as her sister so she allowed herself to have that love for me from day one of our life together. It took me a little longer to get on that same level but Donna made it pretty easy.
“Sahar will be fine but let’s leave the travel names to me, like we practiced. You were going to be Varini, remember?” she said.
I nodded. I looked out over the water and tried to calm down but my brain was too busy with something.
“Something else on your mind?” she asked and already knew.
I almost didn’t answer but here I was on a strange boat, in open water, with a woman I was still getting to know and learning to trust. I didn’t have much to lose.
“You didn’t know I was going to say a different name.” I said.
Donna’s lips tightened. We had discussed the blind spots in her power which she discovered when we first met. I sort of understood but it was frustrating and scary. I had to rely on her while not completely trusting the power she used to keep us safe.
“I can’t sense everything that will happen, but I’m learning how to navigate around the holes.” she reminded me.
“But what do you mean by that?” I asked.
“I can sort of feel the wake they leave in time.” she said.
In addition to looking scared I looked like I wasn’t quite grasping what she said.
“It’s like if time was a river and there is a rock just beneath the water that isn’t visible. I can kind of sense how the water shifts around it. That is why sometimes I have to take a moment to think and feel.” she said.
“I think I understand.” I said.
I did understand for the most part but it was still hard to trust her ability.
“I’m sorry that I will still miss things. But I promise you I’m taking us on the best path.” said Donna.
I knew she believed what she was saying. But there was still tension. I decided to try and break it because I needed a break. I crossed my arms and raised an eyebrow.
“So you said a stone in a river because I’m the Stone Girl?” I asked.
I was trying to look mad but she could tell I wasn’t being serious.
“No comment.” she said with a smile.
I smiled and sat by her on the edge of the boat.
“Where do you come up with these names we’re using?” I asked.
“Instinct. I really don’t think about it too much. In spite of the blind spots, I’ve found the most efficient way to use my power is by just letting it guide me and my decisions. If we need to plan further out, then I can focus on viewing future paths.” she replied.
“I know I keep asking you this, but are we going to be alright?” I asked.
I saw an eyelid twitch, just barely. I didn’t think anything of it at the time.
“Everything will turn out fine in the end.” she said.
I hated it when she answered that way. She knew I did. But there was no point in arguing. It was all she could say and I wasn’t going to get a better answer. Donna could tell I was frustrated and now I can tell she was really frustrated with herself too. She looked out over the water and said something to herself that I almost didn’t hear.
“It is only in the darkest nights that the stars shine more brilliantly.” she said.
“What?” I asked.
She turned back to me and leaned back against the railing.
“Do not let your difficulties fill you with anxiety. It is only in the darkest nights that the stars shine more brilliantly. It’s something my grandmother used to say.” said Donna.
She basically told me again that things would be fine but somehow it felt more honest this time. It felt more like hope and less like just trying to make me feel better with empty words.
“I like that. Is it from something?” I asked.
“I think so. But I don’t remember where she got it.” she replied.
I leaned against the rail next to her and rested my head on her shoulder.
“Will we ever find peace?” I asked.
Donna sighed.
“Sometimes. Our life will be filled with challenges and difficulty, but it will not always be so. We get to have some moments in the Sun.” she said.
I nodded. Then we were silent for a few minutes. I think she was waiting for me to begin the next part of our conversation. I was thinking of how we could make things get easier between us.
“Maybe we should, I don’t know, get to know each other more. I mean, normal people do that and seem to click with each other better. Maybe that will keep me from slipping up.” I said.
Donna smiled and nodded.
“So what do you want to know?” she asked.
“I don’t know. Your grandmother seemed like a wise woman. Maybe start with her?” I asked.
“She was interesting.” said Donna.
“Interesting?” I asked.
“She was kind of a mystery in the family.” she said.
My eyebrow raised with genuine curiosity.
“Actually both my maternal grandparents were kind of mysteries. My grandfather died when I was really young so I didn’t get to know him. But I remember my family trading rumors off and on about where he was from. He never admitted to anything and no rumor or guess ever really stuck right. He had this noble air about him and he was very well-spoken. He didn’t have any kind of accent that gave away anything either. Some said he seemed almost regal.” she said.
I mentally brushed that information off. I felt like he was probably well educated and maybe the family held him high on a pedestal but there wasn’t anything wrong with that.
“Now my grandmother, she was really intriguing to me. Maybe it was because she was in my life. There was this air about her… She was the kindest and warmest person but…” she trailed off.
Donna was searching for words, but it was not like something was holding her back. I could tell she was genuinely unsure of what to say.
“Let me restart.” she said. “I don’t want to make it sound bad, but she could be scary.”
“Scary? How so?” I asked.
“She never got angry. Not that she was never mad. But she could get this look in her eyes that made you feel cold inside. She knew it too. She never used it against her family. But I saw it once when I was with her. I was little. Maybe seven or eight years old. I walked with her to a convenience store. This guy came in and tried to rob the place. He started yelling and pointed a gun at the girl behind the register. Then I heard this voice. “You don’t want to do that.” it said. And it was…”
Donna blinked and blew out a breath.
“I’d never heard a woman’s voice sound so scary. I’d never heard any voice sound like that. It sounded familiar too but it didn’t click right away. So this guy turns and points the gun right at my grandmother. He opened his mouth like he was about to say something and just froze. He nearly turned white. Now I was confused because I was scared obviously. I looked up at my grandmother and her face was different. I meant, it was her face but she looked like she was about to rip that poor guy’s heard off. I don’t know how you can project that you can actually do that with a look, but she was doing it. And you knew, just looking at her, that she could actually do it.” said Donna.
I was locked into the story. The world around me did not exist.
“What happened next?” I asked.
“The guy ran. I heard his feat hammering the floor in a panic and when I looked I just saw the front door of the store swinging back shut. I looked back at my grandmother and she looked normal. She was back to herself. She did have this mischievous little smirk on her face though. We got back to her house and I was too scared to say anything. I told my mom later and she just nodded and told me not to worry. Grandma does that sometimes. Like it was just a normal thing. I asked my aunts and uncles and they reacted pretty much the same. It was around then that I really got curious about my grandparents lives. But there was nothing to find. Grandma never said where she was from either. Everyone agreed that she was probably Middle Eastern but no one could agree where. She was Muslim, but never pressured any of her children to share her faith. Some did. She was the one who taught me Arabic. I don’t know what else to say. She was just Grandma Winnie.” said Donna.
That threw me.
“Wait. Where was your grandmother from?” I asked.
“Her name, right? Wilhelmina.” said Donna.
“Yeah. I mean, Muslims don’t have to have Muslim names, but something feels... off.” I said.
I don’t know why it bothered me. It’s still stuck in the back of my mind.
“Wish I could tell you.” Donna said.
She got up off the rail and walked to the other side of the boat and turned around.
“Everyone asked. She never said. I mean now when I think about it, how she spoke in Arabic, she could have been Syrian. Maybe Iraqi. But it’s really hard to say. I think she got a little kick out of the family always asking.” said Donna.
Donna then told me about some of her life growing up. Her parents were pretty similar to mine. Both educated and not super religious. When Donna was old enough, she joined the Army. Her parents didn’t approve.
“How long were you in before you found me?” I asked.
A pained look crossed Donna’s face and her eye twitched. She took a breath and looked to see if anyone was in earshot.
“Sarah, I can’t tell you about some things. At least not yet.” she said.
“But you will, eventually?” I asked skeptically.
“Please believe me. I want to tell you. And I will when I can.” she said.
“Okay.” I said, not looking convinced.
I didn’t understand why she couldn’t do things even when she tried to explain how restricted she was. I also had a hard time understanding why she chose to feel time more than see it. It seemed overly complicated to me. I had no idea. Now I know that different parts of Donna’s brain experienced time in different ways. An entire book could be written on how her brain processed time. A lot of her time sense was related to her prefrontal cortex, which is responsible for some decision making and the ability to predict outcomes. There is more to it but in simple terms, her brain was wired more to feel the future than to see it. It’s why she had more of an awareness of events instead of visions of the future. I’ve come to understand that this is why her gift worked best on an instinctual level. She could visualize future events, but the further she looked, the greater the physical strain was on her brain. But I’m getting off track.
We kept exchanging stories while looking out over the water. Obviously she had more stories than I did. Mostly they were about her early Army days where she was still learning how to be an adult and it not always working out so well. At some point I forget how I got to this moment and managed to live in it. While it lasted, I was not some traumatized refugee with a dangerous power. I was just a girl on a trip with her “cousin”, admiring the sea, and dreaming of adventure. It became one of my favorite memories. It was when we really started to bond and when I started to think of her as my sister.
In the years that followed, we moved around a lot and disappeared into the world. Some of the places we ended up were not what one would call “safe.” Also the optics of an unrelated adult and minor traveling together were not on our side. We tried different things as cover. Step sisters, cousins, mom and step daughter. Once, we tried Donna playing the part of my nanny/caretaker while I was the daughter of a rather posh oil family. Neither of us found that to be very comfortable and vowed to never do that one again. Thankfully Donna was good at adjusting her accent to mine, which helped. I got better at making my accent disappear as I got older. It was another way to subconsciously distance myself from my past. Eventually I sounded more “American.” It seems to have stuck.
Sometimes we were able to stay in places for weeks or even months at a time. There were actually some good times. I had more moments where I felt like a normal girl. We bonded more every day and we eventually did become sisters. I learned to follow Donna’s lead with absolute trust and faith in spite of my misgivings. Still, it was not always easy. After a while I could read the struggle in her eyes. Occasionally she would just walk away from me when it happened. I saw her crying some of those times. My doubts and fears weighed heavily on me. But I knew one thing for sure. Even with all her struggles, Donna would never abandon me.231Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡw1DxXYj2mj
