His Blazing Witch, chapter two

“You’re lucky it’s just me… Everyone is scared that you’d do it again. Everything okay here?” she asks, putting it down on the little table.

“Still itchy from the bandages…”

She walks up to the bed and checks my legs mostly, where the large burns are hidden under those damn bandages and layers of cream. I think Bonnie is the only nurse I like. She’s just a bit older than us, petite, and very gentle.

Her red hair is in a high ponytail today, and she’s rather cute with her freckles. While Bonnie is not looking, busy checking my temperature, Kelsi grabs the coffee from my tray and sips it down. She makes a little victory sign behind the nurse’s back.

“Kelsi, put that down, it’s not for you,” suddenly says Bonnie, still not looking.

I scoff, amused. Kelsi’s jaw drops. “How do you know I took it?!”

“If you open the lid, it smells. I’m a werewolf, I can tell.”

I always forget Bonnie is a werewolf. She looks like any normal human being, except maybe for that strange glow in her green eyes sometimes. Also, she never needs to turn on the lights at night, and her sense of smell is very good… good enough to tell when Kelsi tries to get free food from the hospital.

“Damn, I wish I was a werewolf,” sighs Kelsi.

“It must be so nice to get to shape-shift into a wolf anytime and go around naked.”

“That’s a bit weird to think about,”

I say, amused. “First of all, we are not naked since we have our fur, and second, it’s a real pain to take off your clothes and put them back on, if you don’t rip them to begin with,” replies Bonnie.

“Bonnie, any news of when I can go out?”

I ask, a bit more seriously. She hesitates a bit before answering, crossing her arms. “Well, medically speaking, you’re doing very well. Your skin is recovering from your burn marks very fast, which shouldn’t even be possible with third and fourth-degree burns for a normal human or a werewolf.”

“That’s our little witch doing wonders…” whispers Kelsi with a smile.

Bonnie nods. “We don’t know much about witches, so we can only observe, but yes, you’re doing fine on that part. The problem is your amnesia. We have done every CT scan, MRI, and check-up we could, and there’s nothing that could explain it. You apparently didn’t hurt your head in the accident, so the underlying cause is still totally unknown. We think it’s psychological. To be honest, even if your doctor says yes, your psychiatrist will probably refuse, saying you’re still mentally unstable…”

“Oh yes, she’s obviously some dangerous psychopath,” mutters Kelsi, rolling her eyes.

I frown. I’m so fed up with that guy. “I am stable, Bonnie,”

I protest. “I’ve been locked up here for weeks, and I only get to take a walk outside once in a while. I haven’t lost control in a while either. Seriously, I have had enough, and my memory is not going to come back by having me locked up here either. Can’t my older sister ignore that guy and get me out of here anyway?”

I ask. “I don’t think so, Mara,” says Bonnie, looking a bit sorry.

“I think Ms. Garnett listens to all of your doctors.”

“When is my next session with him, then?”

I ask, unhappy. “This afternoon…”

I nod. This time, he is going to have to agree to let me out of here because I’m so fed up. I need some real fresh air, not a walk around the hospital park once every two days like some dog!

Bonnie doesn’t say anything else, giving me worried glances, but Kelsi has a smirk on. “Someone’s fired up…”

Bonnie shakes her head. “Mara, if you lose control again, you’re going to be sent back to the isolation cell. You know that, right?”

“I know, but seriously, Bonnie, I’m done. That guy is signing my release form or whatever today.”

I hear a courteous knock on my door and take a deep breath. A quick glance at the bracelet; still beeping green. Alright.

“Hello, Miss Garnett,” he says with his usual polite smile, walking in.

“Hi.”

I stay on my bed, legs crossed, and I have a hard time not glaring at that guy. My psychiatrist is in his early forties, despite having lots of gray hair already, a wrinkled shirt, and a crooked nose. His name is Dimitri Epstein.

Doctor Epstein… He takes the seat next to my bed, taking out his notepad as always. He does his best to look amiable, but I’m sure that is just part of his job.

Not looking at the patient like she’s a crazy witch… While he clicks his ballpoint pen, his eyes fall on the new envelope on my bedside table. “I see your friend found some new pictures? Any luck?”

“No,”

I reply coldly. I’m on my guard. I can’t get mad because I don’t want him to refuse my release again.

“That’s too bad… As I mentioned before, I am a bit concerned about this apparent lack of a social life before your accident, Miss Garnett. As you know, your family is worried about what led to this unfortunate incident. Have you taken some time to think about that?”

I frown. Right. The main reason, or excuse, for my family to keep me locked in here is that I was the one who burned that building down in an attempt to kill myself.

Thankfully, there were no other victims, but also no witnesses… “I do have a friend,”

I note. “Right, Miss Kim,” he nods.

“However, Miss Kim herself said you two were not very close before that incident, didn’t she? Despite her many attempts to befriend you, she said, and I quote, ‘You were not very talkative and our relationship was simply that of flatmates, nothing else.’ I’m glad you’re on better terms now, but this is not really helping us understand your behavior before the incident.”

“Those pictures show I went to a party,”

I reply, handing him the envelope. Doctor Epstein opens it and takes his time to check each of the pictures with a little frown. “Interesting… Do you know when these pictures were taken, Clarissa?” he asks, taking some notes on his notepad. “…Before I met Kelsi,”

I admit, “…and I told you to call me Mara!”

Damn it, I hate it when he calls me that on purpose! Epstein jumps, but quickly regains his composure and puts the envelope back, shaking his head. “That is not your name. Your name is Clarissa Mary Garnett, which is stated on all your official documents, and confirmed by your family. We have already been over this, you saw all those documents yourself, Clarissa. There is no girl called Mara. This Mara is only a persona, a self-defense mechanism you have created yourself. It’s nothing to be afraid about, Clarissa; everyone has a different way to cope with a traumatic event.”

“I can create fire with my hands. Are you going to tell me my traumatized brain has invented this too?”

I growl back. He stays quiet for a long minute. “Alright. I understand you do not want to… dissociate yourself from Mara. However, if you are Mara, then what about Clarissa? After all, you are Clarissa. You have seen all the proof of that. Your official documents, statements from your family, your friend, pictures… However, there is nothing about… Mara. No one knows her. So, who do you think Mara is?”

I don’t have an answer for that. I just woke up, knowing my name, as if it was engraved deep in my head, like the only light I was able to hang on to. Everything else is gone.

None of those documents or pictures they showed me reminded me of anything. I have an older sister that does look strikingly like me, but I couldn’t recognize or remember her. Same with Kelsi, and she’s the person I have been living with for months.

Moreover, they all seemed to know me as Clarissa, not Mara. Who the hell is Mara, then? Who am I…?

I massage my temples, annoyed. So many questions and absolutely no answers. The only thing I’m sure of is that I won’t be able to find anything out by being trapped here!

“Do you understand?” gently asks Dr. Epstein.

“The nurse who is taking care of you mentioned you want to leave the hospital, but Clarissa, I don’t think you are ready.”

“I need to leave! You won’t be able to achieve anything by keeping me trapped here!”

I yell, frustrated. “I can read as many stupid cards as you have, do as many tests, I don’t care, it’s meaningless! My memories are gone, and I have been in here for weeks, with no progress at all!”

“I don’t think that’s true,” he says.

“First, your physical recovery was spectacular. I discussed it with your doctor earlier. He has never seen someone transferred out of the burn unit so quickly with the injuries you had.”

I already know that. They call it a miracle, but it doesn’t feel like that. My body knows what to do, and is healing itself better than any of their ointments or treatments.

All of my deeper burns have now changed to lighter ones. Not only do I not feel any more pain, but the process isn’t leaving any scars at all. My skin looks as new and smooth as a baby’s.

They even tried to take some samples to study, but once they removed the skin from my body, it went back to being as burnt as charcoal, which was even weirder. I’m not burnt by my own fire and my skin heals fast. So why would I have trapped myself inside of a fire?

“If I’m so fine, why not let me out?”

I say. “I can even keep this stupid bracelet on if it makes you feel better!”

I can’t take it off by myself, and it tracks and records my body temperature at all times. According to Bonnie, this thing was custom-made for me. My personal thermometer tracker or something.

It sure is better than the handcuffs, but it’s not like it’s invisible either. I feel like I’m a ticking time bomb or a prisoner. Dr. Epstein makes a serious expression, takes a few more notes, and raises his head again to look at me.

“It’s not that I don’t want to allow you to leave, Clarissa. However, you have to understand that this isn’t only about your security, but that of others as well. Since your admittance to the hospital, you’ve burned two beds and injured several members of the staff as well. This isn’t a trivial matter.”

“That was weeks ago,”

I protested. “I haven’t hurt anyone or burnt anything in weeks, I can control myself now. Bonnie can tell you, I won’t injure someone again!”

He sighs, shaking his head.