I heard my name...echoing down a long dark tunnel.

The buzz in my ears began to fade but not without banging on my already beleaguered head. At first, it seemed like a thousand angry bees were having a party inside my brain.

I heard my name gently called out again.

I opened my eyes.

Someone poured a bag of sand in my eyes, grains of it rolling around behind my lids. Itchy, scratchy and irritating. It was making my eyes water profusely.

I could see the figure of a man standing before my table.

With hands in his pockets, and a small smile on his face, he seemed like a personable sort of guy from his looks.

"Yes, that's me. Hello," I responded.

He introduced himself and where he was from and said, "I received a phone call from your grandmother who's concerned for your welfare. She's saying you're possibly in need of help"

I nodded.

"Can you tell me what happened?" He asked.

I shrugged my shoulders and said, "Dad won't let me come home." I left it that.

Any involvement from these people meant. I had to trust them, and they'd already betrayed me once.

This was the chance I was taking. The risk of sitting down with this man could mean a boatload of repercussions.

I was sick. I was exhausted and my mind desired to shut down.  I became quiet for a while after he excused himself to make a phone call.

I could feel myself slipping ever so slowly in the chair while my head gently dipped towards the table.

I realized if he'd asked me one more question I wouldn't be able to answer anyway.

Nothing left for me to do except lay my head down and play volleyball with the bees in my brain.

Returning from his phone call the social worker informed me that he was taking me to my grandmothers. 

By then I cared for nothing but warmth and rest. I remember almost nothing about the ride from the coffee shop to my grandmother's house. I was completely out of it.

I felt a hand on my shoulder."We're here now." Walking unsteadily, I saw the familiar front door which opened as we approached.

The figures on the top of the stairs were backlit so I couldn't see who they were.

Then slowly, they began to part, my grandmother approached me, "He he" she said. "You are dirty. Put you right into de tub"

"Oma, I don't feel well, can I just lie down? I asked.

"You cannot put dirty feet and hands in my clean sheets. Tis terrible." She answered.

I could not argue. There was no strength in me to do so. I let her lead me as she willed. Oma popped the hallway light on, thanked the worker for bringing me, and then shut the door. I looked up the hallway stairs again and beheld what I thought must have been a hallucination.

My sister.

Standing at the top of the steps looking a bit scared and pale but otherwise she seemed ok.

"How did you get here? What happened to you? I asked.

Immense relief flooded over me enveloping me like an electric blanket. Seeing my sister was okay and unharmed, as far as I could tell, gave me some solace.

"A lot less than you I think," she answered.

"No time for talk." Pointing at us two girls grandmother said, "You into bed" pointing at my sister, "And you" pointing at me, "to the  bathtub.  You girls can talk in the morning."

No point in arguing besides, I didn't want to fuss about it or think for that matter. 

It would be all I could do to get into the bathtub. Besides, it's been months since I had a real bath. I could not forego the pleasure if I wanted to. Willingly, I walked, hand on the wall, towards the bathroom.

Once in the bathroom, I turned on the taps to my desired temperature and sighed deeply. How wonderful this was going to be. Tired and sick doesn't matter.

I removed my clothes and looked at myself for the first time in a long time. I was shocked at what I saw.

Staring back at me, a skeletal girl with big eyes overwhelming her face. Dirt on every inch of her. Blood crusted in her hair. Multiple cuts, scrapes and bruises, mostly arms and legs, some on the face. Rib bones move between breaths skin translucent the bones threatening to bust free of its cage.

A horrid realization hit me not just as a matter of intellect but as a matter of heart. If I hadn't made it out today, I would be dead in a matter of days.  Not the girl I left behind but a wilder darker version of me.

My eyes appeared haunted with dark circles, fingernails shredded looking like a victim of war.  All those who suffered unjustly, who lost their lives during World War Two...and to the beat of nothing, my thanks goes to you.

I certainly looked like one of them. Looking down at the pile of clothes on the floor. Crusted with dirt, blood, old food and everyday muck, I rolled them into balls and tossed them in the garbage.  Wobbling slightly, I pulled my leg over the side of the tub and then the other and slipped into the water.  I lay back in the tub, luxuriating in the glorious field of warm water and weightlessness. I watched incredulously as layers of dirt sloughed off my body in streams. 

Soon the water was black and I hadn't even lifted a washcloth. Draining the water, I filled it up again. Today decided to kick me in the face and lined me up for the after-effects. Shock, you see, can do interesting things to a person and risk lives too.

Floating, mind drifting down hallways in my head, not of my design. My mind was filled with fever and my body hungered again.

I wanted to chase the dirt down the drain...just leave it all behind.  Maybe it was better there...there was nothing amiss and...

Maybe there was no "Him".

My family created the art of disguise.  They are experts, masters of the trade, cons with deceptive perfection. Is kings and queens of manipulation.

She's fooled you now dear reader.

She is not the savior as she would have you believe. 

But the reason...

The reason for it all.