Post by Mimi on Oct 22, 2006 18:14:21 GMT -5
Falling Book 2: Finding Marlena –Chapter 20 (epilogue)
Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it. --George Santayana
As Marlena stood on the veranda over looking the vast empire that Stefano had accumulated over the years, she was filled with feelings of shame, regret and loss. Stefano’s words to her that night years ago echoed through her mind, holding her soul captive. “You will willingly come to my bed and enjoy your night with me. I will not tolerate any hesitation or crying or the deal is off and your John Black dies.” Everywhere she looked, everything she touched, belonged to him including herself.
“John was never the pawn,” she thought sadly, recalling the life that was and the life that could have been. There were so many opportunities; so much potential never achieved. “And for what?” she asked herself. “For what?”
The harder she tried to understand the less she understood. Nothing made sense, yet everything did. “I can’t do this,” she whispered into the crisp night air desperately wishing that some celestial force would hear her cry for help. “I don’t want to remember,” she whispered as she slowly rubbed the scars on her arms. Over and over her left hand furiously dug into the thin skin on her right forearm, reopening old wounds.
“Don’t Julie, don’t,” she told herself as she shook her head. “Don’t go there…please don’t go there.” Over and over she dug at the wounds until she found the release that she sought as she felt her blood slowly start to trickle down her skin. The warmth of the blood against the cool night air momentarily satisfied her psyche. The relief was soon replaced with the familiar feeling of guilt. Everything was her fault. She was the catalyst for a whole series of unfortunate events. If not for her John wouldn’t have suffered at the hands of Stefano, Samantha would be alive, her children would be successful adults, and Roman would be happily married to a faithful woman.
Lifting her eyes towards the heavens she whispered a prayer long ago remembered and seldom recited. “My God, I am sorry for my sins with all my heart….In choosing to do wrong and failing to do good, I have sinned against you whom I should love above all things….I firmly intend, with your help, to do penance, to sin no more, and to avoid whatever leads me into sin….Our savior Jesus Christ suffered and died for us…In his name, my God, have mercy….Amen….”
“It’s too late,” he whispered in her ear. She momentarily stopped breathing as she felt him behind her.
“You’re not real,” she whispered as she shook her head slowly back and forth. “You’re just in my head.
“No amount of praying to some god is going to save you Julie,” her father condescendingly told her. She felt the movement of the air as he moved behind her. Standing as still as she could, she wished that she was invisible.
“You’re just in my head…Your not real…You can’t hurt me,” she repeated to herself over and over, in her head and outloud.
“I don’t need to hurt you…you’ve hurt yourself….look what you’ve done with your life….No man is ever going to love or respect you.”
“That’s not true,” she told him. “You’re not real…you’re not ….you’re not real…”
“Once a slut, always a slut,” he interrupted. “You fucked my brother…. that makes you a slut,” he whispered into her ear as she felt him touch her.
“STOP,” she screamed at him. “STOP…..STOP….please stop.” Falling to the ground, she grabbed her head and willed his voice to stop. She was tired of hurting, tired of running from her memories, tired of living.
“You think yelling at me is going to make me go away.” He was laying down on the ground in front of her. She could smell the Courvoisier cognac on his breath. In and out with each breath she felt the warm air as it moved the errant hairs across her face.
“You’re not real,” she said trying to convince herself as she closed her eyes tightly.
“I’m that itch beneath your skin that as hard as you try, you’ll never be able to relieve,” he said crudely, punctuating the word ‘itch’.
“Please leave me alone…please….I’ll be good….I promise that I’ll be good,” she said reverting back to the damaged seven year old child who just wanted her daddy to love her.
“You’ll never be good,” he laughed. “You’ll always be bad…a sinner….a tramp.”
Unable to fight the voice of her father and unable to convince herself otherwise Marlena closed her eyes tightly and gave into the feelings. She was worthless. She was a whore. She was a sinner. She was bad. She was unloved.
Her memories of Stefano came flooding back to her. Nothing that her father and his friends had done to her would ever compare to the utter shame she felt in the moment that she degraded herself by willingly offering herself to Stefano.
“Your offer keeps him alive and nothing more…one night.” She saw herself as she followed him up the large staircase to the second floor of Maison Blanche. She remembered fingering the wooden paneled walls, thinking at the time how lovely they were and how sad it was that such a soulless man had such beauty in his house. Slowly she came to him, disrobing one piece of clothing at a time, per his instructions. Once nude, she layed in the center of the bed while he appreciatively looked her over. Never had she felt like a greater whore than at that moment. He could have offered her money in exchange for the act and it would have felt the same.
“Act like you want me Marlena,” he instructed. And so she did. Over and over that night she put on the performance of her life as a part of herself died.
She wanted to stop the memories but didn’t have the strength to. Everything that her father had said about her was true. He was right, she was a worthless piece of shit that no one could or wanted to love. Men didn’t love her; they just wanted her because she put out. Maxwell, Channing, Forrest, Alex, Mason, Trey, Samuel, Nicholas, Don, Roman, Richard, Stefano, Victor and John.
“See you are a whore,” her father chanted. “Whore…whore….whore…whore.”
“No,” she devastatingly whispered as his words, his validation sank in. She was a whore. She’d used her body countless times over the year for different reasons, but regardless they all pointed to the truth.
Broken, she slowly rose and walked towards the wall that protected the safe enclave of Casa de Soledad from outside threats. Slowly she climbed up on the wall and stood to her full height. Before her was a world that would never know the heartbreak that she’d known, would never know such a feeling of utter hopelessness, and would never know what it felt like to have dreams that would never come true.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered into the wind hoping that John would somehow know how sorry she truly was for everything. She tried for years to be strong, to be the woman that everyone mistakenly thought she was, to be Marlena. But she couldn’t do it anymore. Tired of all the deceit and the elaborate charade that had become her life Marlena was at her lowest point, realizing that she couldn’t live like this anymore. With nothing to lose, she closed her eyes and leaned forward. In that instant where she chose death instead of life she experienced a moment of peace and clarity.
None of them were worth it.
“No,” she said as she struggled to regain her balance on the wall. Opening her eyes to the world around her, she noticed that the stars seemed a little less bright and the world a little more dark. Legs shaking uncontrollably she slowly made her way off the wall to the corner of the veranda. Locating a cast iron lounge chair, she slowly sat down as the enormity of what she had almost done sank in. She was willing to die and for what? Because her father and mother didn’t love her enough to protect her? Because of Maxwell Owens and Channing Owens? Because of Stefano Dimera? Because of every bad thing that had ever happened to her? Because she had never been a good enough wife and mother? Because she had always felt and always been inadequate?
They had almost won. Her soul bent to the point where it almost broke; Marlena released her fears and her feelings of guilt and inadequacy. The words of the psychiatrist that she saw two years ago were heavy on her mind. When her memory started returning she’d been encouraged to see a counselor to help her deal with the situation. Not ready to hear what the woman was telling her at the time, she did what she did best, put on the part of the upstanding Dr. Evans and convinced the doctor and everyone else that she was handling the situation just fine.
“In order to heal, you need to discover what is under the façade of Marlena…Marlena is someone you created, she’s not real. She can be real, she can be you, but first you must accept your past for what it was and stop the dangerous cycle of denying your feelings and your past by attributing that part to Julie.”
“I’m not sure I understand what you are saying?” Marlena challenged the psychiatrist.
“You’re a smart woman Marlena, you couldn’t have gotten this far in life if you weren’t. Over the years just to survive you’ve had to learn some coping mechanisms. Some of these weren’t exactly healthy and I know you know what I’m talking about.”
“I don’t need your help….my life is fine.”
“This is what I’m talking about. One of your coping mechanisms is to deny your past happened, to tuck it away, to compartmentalize it and your pain. This may work on a short-term basis, but sooner or later all that you’ve tried not to feel, not to deal with may come to the surface at an inopportune time.”
Sitting in the chair, Marlena crossed her arms defensively across her chest. This lady had it all wrong. She didn’t know her, did know what she was feeling.
“Marlena,” the psychiatrist said as she moved her chair closer to her. “Julie and Marlena are the same person. Julie is the child you were; Marlena is the woman that you are. Marlena is just as damaged as Julie, maybe more so. Pretending that something didn’t happen doesn’t mean that it can’t hurt you. Pretending that Julie doesn’t exist isn’t going to help you heal. Only when you accept the truth of your past and believe in the power of your present will you be able to move on and heal.”
As memory after memory of her life played like a film in her mind, she closed her eyes and allowed the truth to sink in. She always was that person her father told her that she’d never become. Her life wasn’t a farce or an accident. Under the façade of it all, under the designer clothes and expensive education, she was a survivor, a strong woman with purpose and passion. A woman that knew what she wanted out of life and how to get it: a good mother to her children, a good daughter to Frank and Martha Evans, a devoted sister to Sam, a good wife to Don and Roman, soulmate to John. Her life was no accident. She was Marlena.
Laughing at how simple everything really was, Marlena layed her head back in the chair and thought of everything that had gone right, everything that she had to be thankful for. No doubt about it, she was blessed.
With no feelings of guilt to keep her mind closed, she allowed her mind to open up. Memory after memory returned.
She remembered her life as Julie. Loved and cherished as a small child, she was the apple of her father’s eye. She remembered all the lavish family parties and vacations. For her fifth birthday her father bought her a miniature pony that she named Daisy. Her cousin Forrest taught her to ride the pony. How she loved and adored Forrest, always intending to grow up and marry him. A couple years older than her with dark black hair and mysterious blue eyes; he was the fairytale prince charming. Her older cousins never gave her the time of day, calling her a baby, but Forrest always seemed to have time for her.
She remembered the night at the Dimera family compound when everything changed. After days of torrential rain, everyone was growing restless at having to stay inside. After a hundred or so games of hide and go seek in the mansion, Marlena and her cousins were bored and decided to spy on their parents for some entertainment. The Dimera men were having a family meeting when things got heated. Words were said in anger that she didn’t understand and the next thing she knew her family was on a plane for America.
Things went downhill after that, although at the time Marlena didn’t realize or understand what was happening. She had always lived in mansions but in America they lived in a small trailer in the middle of nowhere. With no job or money to support his family, John Dimera turned to illegal activities. Hopeless and desperate with a drug habit to support, he allowed his associates to molest his daughters to pay off his escalating debts.
Although Marlena didn’t want to remember this part of her past, she knew that she needed to in order to move forward with her future. Allowing herself that moment of vulnerability where her soul was laid bare, she opened her mind and gave herself permission to remember and grieve for those things that she tightly repressed. Every betrayal and false promise, everything that John and Katherine Dimera did or didn’t do.
“Slim, you are aware that your debt is substantial,” the younger man said to her father. She watched as her father nervously bit his nails and looked around the room.
She watched as her father said something to the man, but couldn’t make out what was being said.
“The police know, the FBI knows and now the DEA knows…You have brought us to the attention of the feds Slim…the fucking feds.”
Her father stood in place, staring at the closet door. Did he know that she was in there? She slowly back herself into the corner of the closet, closed her eyes and tried to become as small as possible.
She heard the muffled sounds of them talking and the dragging of their feet as they shuffled along the decaying floor. Suddenly the closet door flung open and she was pulled out of the closet by her hair. The burning in her scalp was incredible. She cried out in pain as she tried to grab onto his hand to let her go.
“Are you sure this is the one you want?” her father asked the younger man as he held her firmly by the hair. The younger man looked to the older man for guidance. He nodded his head.
Julie looked up at the men in disgust. There was something about the older man that was familiar to her.
“There’s a room out back if you’d like to use it,” her father offered without even looking at her. “Rules are rules, touching only, no intercourse….in exchange for forgiveness of my debt to you.”
The older man looked to the younger man and winked when he caught her eye. She recognized him. She knew who he was. Owen Channing. She watched as the older man pursued his lips and narrowed his eyes, unsure of what to say.
As her father pushed her towards to man, he reached out and grabbed her by the arm. “You are a pretty one,” he said as he stroked the side of her face with his well-manicured hand. Owen Channing took her small hand in his. His diamond encrusted wedding band shone brilliantly against the layer of dirt that covered her skin.
“You’d better treat this man here well Julie,” he told her. “This is my brother.”
She tried not to cry as she stood there before the men as they inspected her. She knew what they wanted and it sickened her to think what he was going to do, what his disgusting and perverted brother had already done to her. She was tired of feeling degraded and ashamed, tired of being used as currency to pay off her fathers growing debt. She didn’t want to feel this way anymore.
“Julie, treat this man nicely or else,” her father warned her. He left the room and returned with a can of beer, handing it to her. “Drink this, it will make you feel better.” The men sat and watched her as she timidly opened the can, hands shaking, and proceeded to drink the beer. Its familiar taste slowly made its way down to her stomach. After drinking a quarter of the can, she was already feeling its effects.
The pain was still the same and probably always would be, but it was something that Marlena refused to fear anymore. She was tired of running and fighting her feelings, tired of being someone else. Tears streaming down her face she accepted the past for what it was and moved on. As she relived the past, one event at a time, she forgave herself and them for what had happened. Yes she killed three men, but she believed in a divine presence greater than herself that would provide forgiveness. Leaning forward in the chair, she put her hands together slowly in prayer. “Lord, make me an instrument of your peace. Where there is hatred, let me sow love, Where there is injury, pardon. Where there is doubt, faith. Where there is despair, hope. Where there is darkness, light. Where there is sadness, joy.” Forgiving was so hard, much harder than she expected it to be. As she prayed there was a small part of her that held back, that didn’t want to forgive or be forgiven. “O Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console, not so much to be understood as to understand, not so much to be loved, as to love; for it is in giving that we receive, it is in pardoning that we are pardoned, it is in dying that we awake to eternal life. Amen.” Slowly she stood and walked towards the french doors that led into the house. Every light on the first floor appeared to be on casting a warm glow on the terrace. She wanted to go in and talk to John and tell him about her memories but couldn’t. Not yet.
25 68 99 210 83 22 1 7 9 was what everyone wanted to know, the magic number, the Holy Grail. How many lives have been ruined for it? Alex and Mason were mere pawns in the game, players much to young and inexperienced to play with the likes of the Dimera, Torres and Owens families. John was also a pawn in the same game, although in a different way. Their paths were tied in an inexplicable manner and neither of them knew it. John had hinted at it to her weeks ago, but she was in denial. You don’t just forget the love of your life, she told him never letting herself hope that it was true.
John. As Marlena thought about him she had a flash of him running along the beach, the warm breeze blowing against his sun kissed face. Her beloved childhood friend became her salvation. Image after image of her making love to him in that daisy-strewn field flashed through her mind. His tanned hands as they moved slowly across her bare stomach. The look of utter pleasure on his face when he entered her for the first time. The way his toes moved up and down involuntarily when he released himself into her. The smell of his skin when she laid her head on his shoulder. The sparkle in his blue eyes when he told her that he loved her. John or Forrest, it didn’t matter what name he went by. He always had been and always would be the love of her life, her protector, and her equal.
“Life is beautiful Marlena….Whenever you need to be reminded of all that is beautiful and wonderful about you I’ll always be here to tell you,” Forrest told her as he gently wiped the tears from her eyes. He’d been holding her for the last hour trying to convince her to go back to America with her guardians, but she couldn’t see a life without him.
“I’ll go with you Forrest….we can be together like you promised.”
“You’re only sixteen Marlena….you need to finish school first. After you graduate we can be together all the time.”
“No….I need you now…please don’t leave me.”
“I don’t have a choice and neither do you…”
“We do…I’ll go to Europe with you…”
“We’ve discussed this before….its not going to work….My Aunt Suzanne has been circling like a hawk trying to figure out who I’ve been sneaking off to see this summer. I’m afraid we don’t have much more time before she figures out that its you and not some European socialite.”
“So what if she knows its me…what is she going to do?”
“She’ll never understand me dating a commoner, you know that. Alamain’s are betrothed at an early age….”
“You’re going to marry someone else?” she cried out in disbelief. It was bad enough that he was leaving, even worse that he was going to marry someone else.
“No Marlena…no….I have to simply go through the motions….when it gets close to the wedding I’ll disappear….I promise you, I only want to marry you.”
“I can’t do this Forrest…I can’t.”
“You can…you are the strongest person that I know…we may be separated by distance but you’ll always be in my heart,” he said as he took her in his arms. “You know how I feel about you….I could travel the word and buy things that would make kings and queens drool with envy but none of that would ever compare to your worth to me. You are everything I’ve ever wanted in a woman…Whatever happens, I promise you that I will find you.”
“Why God….Why?” Marlena asked outloud, desperate for an explanation. Firmly believing that everything happens for a reason, Marlena struggled with understanding why the road of her and John’s lives wasn’t smooth, but rather marked with sharp turns and potholes. How much more would they both have to endure before they passed the divine litmus test?
Only John and Stefano had the answers, Marlena realized. Wiping her bloody arms and hands on her white linen pants, Marlena straightened her shirt and tried to summon an air of authority. She was tired of playing the unwitting role of the victim. She was in charge or her life and destiny and was owed some answers by one Stefano Dimera.
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“I want some answers,” Marlena calmly demanded as she walked into the formal dining room, interrupting a loud and heated discussion between John and Stefano.
All eyes shifted towards her.
“Marlena,” John said as he rose from the table, concerned about her mental state, seeing the gun in her hand.
“I want some answers,” she demanded again as she lifted the small caliber handgun that had previously been obscured. Slowly her right hand rose as she pointed the gun directly at Stefano, her left hand gripping her right wrist for support.
“Marlena, don’t be silly….put it down,” Stefano demanded as he eyed her curiously. The thing that he loved about her the most was also the thing that drove him absolutely mad, her utter unpredictability.
“Not until you satisfy my curiosity about a couple of things.” A couple hundred things was more like it, but who was counting.
“It’s not loaded,” Stefano said, calling her bluff. John stood in Marlena’s line of vision trying to get her attention. She had an eerie calmness about her that was alarming.
“Is it?” she asked as she suddenly shifted her aim from Stefano to the large Dimera family painting that hung on the opposite wall. “The seventh son of the seventh son,” she muttered under her breath, “too bad they’re only 6 bullets in this gun.” With a passing glance at the picture she aimed the weapon towards the face of her father and fired.
“There is no reason for violence,” Stefano said with a slight quiver in his voice. He knew more than anyone her pendence for violence. She had killed before and he wouldn’t put anything past her.
“I should kill you…no one, and I mean no one would miss you,” Marlena said as she turned the gun and focused it on Stefano’s designer shirt. “You made me compromise my own dignity…”
“So that is what this is all about…” Stefano interrupted as he looked up at John. John was standing with a confused look on his face. “I made you forget.”
Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it. --George Santayana
As Marlena stood on the veranda over looking the vast empire that Stefano had accumulated over the years, she was filled with feelings of shame, regret and loss. Stefano’s words to her that night years ago echoed through her mind, holding her soul captive. “You will willingly come to my bed and enjoy your night with me. I will not tolerate any hesitation or crying or the deal is off and your John Black dies.” Everywhere she looked, everything she touched, belonged to him including herself.
“John was never the pawn,” she thought sadly, recalling the life that was and the life that could have been. There were so many opportunities; so much potential never achieved. “And for what?” she asked herself. “For what?”
The harder she tried to understand the less she understood. Nothing made sense, yet everything did. “I can’t do this,” she whispered into the crisp night air desperately wishing that some celestial force would hear her cry for help. “I don’t want to remember,” she whispered as she slowly rubbed the scars on her arms. Over and over her left hand furiously dug into the thin skin on her right forearm, reopening old wounds.
“Don’t Julie, don’t,” she told herself as she shook her head. “Don’t go there…please don’t go there.” Over and over she dug at the wounds until she found the release that she sought as she felt her blood slowly start to trickle down her skin. The warmth of the blood against the cool night air momentarily satisfied her psyche. The relief was soon replaced with the familiar feeling of guilt. Everything was her fault. She was the catalyst for a whole series of unfortunate events. If not for her John wouldn’t have suffered at the hands of Stefano, Samantha would be alive, her children would be successful adults, and Roman would be happily married to a faithful woman.
Lifting her eyes towards the heavens she whispered a prayer long ago remembered and seldom recited. “My God, I am sorry for my sins with all my heart….In choosing to do wrong and failing to do good, I have sinned against you whom I should love above all things….I firmly intend, with your help, to do penance, to sin no more, and to avoid whatever leads me into sin….Our savior Jesus Christ suffered and died for us…In his name, my God, have mercy….Amen….”
“It’s too late,” he whispered in her ear. She momentarily stopped breathing as she felt him behind her.
“You’re not real,” she whispered as she shook her head slowly back and forth. “You’re just in my head.
“No amount of praying to some god is going to save you Julie,” her father condescendingly told her. She felt the movement of the air as he moved behind her. Standing as still as she could, she wished that she was invisible.
“You’re just in my head…Your not real…You can’t hurt me,” she repeated to herself over and over, in her head and outloud.
“I don’t need to hurt you…you’ve hurt yourself….look what you’ve done with your life….No man is ever going to love or respect you.”
“That’s not true,” she told him. “You’re not real…you’re not ….you’re not real…”
“Once a slut, always a slut,” he interrupted. “You fucked my brother…. that makes you a slut,” he whispered into her ear as she felt him touch her.
“STOP,” she screamed at him. “STOP…..STOP….please stop.” Falling to the ground, she grabbed her head and willed his voice to stop. She was tired of hurting, tired of running from her memories, tired of living.
“You think yelling at me is going to make me go away.” He was laying down on the ground in front of her. She could smell the Courvoisier cognac on his breath. In and out with each breath she felt the warm air as it moved the errant hairs across her face.
“You’re not real,” she said trying to convince herself as she closed her eyes tightly.
“I’m that itch beneath your skin that as hard as you try, you’ll never be able to relieve,” he said crudely, punctuating the word ‘itch’.
“Please leave me alone…please….I’ll be good….I promise that I’ll be good,” she said reverting back to the damaged seven year old child who just wanted her daddy to love her.
“You’ll never be good,” he laughed. “You’ll always be bad…a sinner….a tramp.”
Unable to fight the voice of her father and unable to convince herself otherwise Marlena closed her eyes tightly and gave into the feelings. She was worthless. She was a whore. She was a sinner. She was bad. She was unloved.
Her memories of Stefano came flooding back to her. Nothing that her father and his friends had done to her would ever compare to the utter shame she felt in the moment that she degraded herself by willingly offering herself to Stefano.
“Your offer keeps him alive and nothing more…one night.” She saw herself as she followed him up the large staircase to the second floor of Maison Blanche. She remembered fingering the wooden paneled walls, thinking at the time how lovely they were and how sad it was that such a soulless man had such beauty in his house. Slowly she came to him, disrobing one piece of clothing at a time, per his instructions. Once nude, she layed in the center of the bed while he appreciatively looked her over. Never had she felt like a greater whore than at that moment. He could have offered her money in exchange for the act and it would have felt the same.
“Act like you want me Marlena,” he instructed. And so she did. Over and over that night she put on the performance of her life as a part of herself died.
She wanted to stop the memories but didn’t have the strength to. Everything that her father had said about her was true. He was right, she was a worthless piece of shit that no one could or wanted to love. Men didn’t love her; they just wanted her because she put out. Maxwell, Channing, Forrest, Alex, Mason, Trey, Samuel, Nicholas, Don, Roman, Richard, Stefano, Victor and John.
“See you are a whore,” her father chanted. “Whore…whore….whore…whore.”
“No,” she devastatingly whispered as his words, his validation sank in. She was a whore. She’d used her body countless times over the year for different reasons, but regardless they all pointed to the truth.
Broken, she slowly rose and walked towards the wall that protected the safe enclave of Casa de Soledad from outside threats. Slowly she climbed up on the wall and stood to her full height. Before her was a world that would never know the heartbreak that she’d known, would never know such a feeling of utter hopelessness, and would never know what it felt like to have dreams that would never come true.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered into the wind hoping that John would somehow know how sorry she truly was for everything. She tried for years to be strong, to be the woman that everyone mistakenly thought she was, to be Marlena. But she couldn’t do it anymore. Tired of all the deceit and the elaborate charade that had become her life Marlena was at her lowest point, realizing that she couldn’t live like this anymore. With nothing to lose, she closed her eyes and leaned forward. In that instant where she chose death instead of life she experienced a moment of peace and clarity.
None of them were worth it.
“No,” she said as she struggled to regain her balance on the wall. Opening her eyes to the world around her, she noticed that the stars seemed a little less bright and the world a little more dark. Legs shaking uncontrollably she slowly made her way off the wall to the corner of the veranda. Locating a cast iron lounge chair, she slowly sat down as the enormity of what she had almost done sank in. She was willing to die and for what? Because her father and mother didn’t love her enough to protect her? Because of Maxwell Owens and Channing Owens? Because of Stefano Dimera? Because of every bad thing that had ever happened to her? Because she had never been a good enough wife and mother? Because she had always felt and always been inadequate?
They had almost won. Her soul bent to the point where it almost broke; Marlena released her fears and her feelings of guilt and inadequacy. The words of the psychiatrist that she saw two years ago were heavy on her mind. When her memory started returning she’d been encouraged to see a counselor to help her deal with the situation. Not ready to hear what the woman was telling her at the time, she did what she did best, put on the part of the upstanding Dr. Evans and convinced the doctor and everyone else that she was handling the situation just fine.
“In order to heal, you need to discover what is under the façade of Marlena…Marlena is someone you created, she’s not real. She can be real, she can be you, but first you must accept your past for what it was and stop the dangerous cycle of denying your feelings and your past by attributing that part to Julie.”
“I’m not sure I understand what you are saying?” Marlena challenged the psychiatrist.
“You’re a smart woman Marlena, you couldn’t have gotten this far in life if you weren’t. Over the years just to survive you’ve had to learn some coping mechanisms. Some of these weren’t exactly healthy and I know you know what I’m talking about.”
“I don’t need your help….my life is fine.”
“This is what I’m talking about. One of your coping mechanisms is to deny your past happened, to tuck it away, to compartmentalize it and your pain. This may work on a short-term basis, but sooner or later all that you’ve tried not to feel, not to deal with may come to the surface at an inopportune time.”
Sitting in the chair, Marlena crossed her arms defensively across her chest. This lady had it all wrong. She didn’t know her, did know what she was feeling.
“Marlena,” the psychiatrist said as she moved her chair closer to her. “Julie and Marlena are the same person. Julie is the child you were; Marlena is the woman that you are. Marlena is just as damaged as Julie, maybe more so. Pretending that something didn’t happen doesn’t mean that it can’t hurt you. Pretending that Julie doesn’t exist isn’t going to help you heal. Only when you accept the truth of your past and believe in the power of your present will you be able to move on and heal.”
As memory after memory of her life played like a film in her mind, she closed her eyes and allowed the truth to sink in. She always was that person her father told her that she’d never become. Her life wasn’t a farce or an accident. Under the façade of it all, under the designer clothes and expensive education, she was a survivor, a strong woman with purpose and passion. A woman that knew what she wanted out of life and how to get it: a good mother to her children, a good daughter to Frank and Martha Evans, a devoted sister to Sam, a good wife to Don and Roman, soulmate to John. Her life was no accident. She was Marlena.
Laughing at how simple everything really was, Marlena layed her head back in the chair and thought of everything that had gone right, everything that she had to be thankful for. No doubt about it, she was blessed.
With no feelings of guilt to keep her mind closed, she allowed her mind to open up. Memory after memory returned.
She remembered her life as Julie. Loved and cherished as a small child, she was the apple of her father’s eye. She remembered all the lavish family parties and vacations. For her fifth birthday her father bought her a miniature pony that she named Daisy. Her cousin Forrest taught her to ride the pony. How she loved and adored Forrest, always intending to grow up and marry him. A couple years older than her with dark black hair and mysterious blue eyes; he was the fairytale prince charming. Her older cousins never gave her the time of day, calling her a baby, but Forrest always seemed to have time for her.
She remembered the night at the Dimera family compound when everything changed. After days of torrential rain, everyone was growing restless at having to stay inside. After a hundred or so games of hide and go seek in the mansion, Marlena and her cousins were bored and decided to spy on their parents for some entertainment. The Dimera men were having a family meeting when things got heated. Words were said in anger that she didn’t understand and the next thing she knew her family was on a plane for America.
Things went downhill after that, although at the time Marlena didn’t realize or understand what was happening. She had always lived in mansions but in America they lived in a small trailer in the middle of nowhere. With no job or money to support his family, John Dimera turned to illegal activities. Hopeless and desperate with a drug habit to support, he allowed his associates to molest his daughters to pay off his escalating debts.
Although Marlena didn’t want to remember this part of her past, she knew that she needed to in order to move forward with her future. Allowing herself that moment of vulnerability where her soul was laid bare, she opened her mind and gave herself permission to remember and grieve for those things that she tightly repressed. Every betrayal and false promise, everything that John and Katherine Dimera did or didn’t do.
“Slim, you are aware that your debt is substantial,” the younger man said to her father. She watched as her father nervously bit his nails and looked around the room.
She watched as her father said something to the man, but couldn’t make out what was being said.
“The police know, the FBI knows and now the DEA knows…You have brought us to the attention of the feds Slim…the fucking feds.”
Her father stood in place, staring at the closet door. Did he know that she was in there? She slowly back herself into the corner of the closet, closed her eyes and tried to become as small as possible.
She heard the muffled sounds of them talking and the dragging of their feet as they shuffled along the decaying floor. Suddenly the closet door flung open and she was pulled out of the closet by her hair. The burning in her scalp was incredible. She cried out in pain as she tried to grab onto his hand to let her go.
“Are you sure this is the one you want?” her father asked the younger man as he held her firmly by the hair. The younger man looked to the older man for guidance. He nodded his head.
Julie looked up at the men in disgust. There was something about the older man that was familiar to her.
“There’s a room out back if you’d like to use it,” her father offered without even looking at her. “Rules are rules, touching only, no intercourse….in exchange for forgiveness of my debt to you.”
The older man looked to the younger man and winked when he caught her eye. She recognized him. She knew who he was. Owen Channing. She watched as the older man pursued his lips and narrowed his eyes, unsure of what to say.
As her father pushed her towards to man, he reached out and grabbed her by the arm. “You are a pretty one,” he said as he stroked the side of her face with his well-manicured hand. Owen Channing took her small hand in his. His diamond encrusted wedding band shone brilliantly against the layer of dirt that covered her skin.
“You’d better treat this man here well Julie,” he told her. “This is my brother.”
She tried not to cry as she stood there before the men as they inspected her. She knew what they wanted and it sickened her to think what he was going to do, what his disgusting and perverted brother had already done to her. She was tired of feeling degraded and ashamed, tired of being used as currency to pay off her fathers growing debt. She didn’t want to feel this way anymore.
“Julie, treat this man nicely or else,” her father warned her. He left the room and returned with a can of beer, handing it to her. “Drink this, it will make you feel better.” The men sat and watched her as she timidly opened the can, hands shaking, and proceeded to drink the beer. Its familiar taste slowly made its way down to her stomach. After drinking a quarter of the can, she was already feeling its effects.
The pain was still the same and probably always would be, but it was something that Marlena refused to fear anymore. She was tired of running and fighting her feelings, tired of being someone else. Tears streaming down her face she accepted the past for what it was and moved on. As she relived the past, one event at a time, she forgave herself and them for what had happened. Yes she killed three men, but she believed in a divine presence greater than herself that would provide forgiveness. Leaning forward in the chair, she put her hands together slowly in prayer. “Lord, make me an instrument of your peace. Where there is hatred, let me sow love, Where there is injury, pardon. Where there is doubt, faith. Where there is despair, hope. Where there is darkness, light. Where there is sadness, joy.” Forgiving was so hard, much harder than she expected it to be. As she prayed there was a small part of her that held back, that didn’t want to forgive or be forgiven. “O Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console, not so much to be understood as to understand, not so much to be loved, as to love; for it is in giving that we receive, it is in pardoning that we are pardoned, it is in dying that we awake to eternal life. Amen.” Slowly she stood and walked towards the french doors that led into the house. Every light on the first floor appeared to be on casting a warm glow on the terrace. She wanted to go in and talk to John and tell him about her memories but couldn’t. Not yet.
25 68 99 210 83 22 1 7 9 was what everyone wanted to know, the magic number, the Holy Grail. How many lives have been ruined for it? Alex and Mason were mere pawns in the game, players much to young and inexperienced to play with the likes of the Dimera, Torres and Owens families. John was also a pawn in the same game, although in a different way. Their paths were tied in an inexplicable manner and neither of them knew it. John had hinted at it to her weeks ago, but she was in denial. You don’t just forget the love of your life, she told him never letting herself hope that it was true.
John. As Marlena thought about him she had a flash of him running along the beach, the warm breeze blowing against his sun kissed face. Her beloved childhood friend became her salvation. Image after image of her making love to him in that daisy-strewn field flashed through her mind. His tanned hands as they moved slowly across her bare stomach. The look of utter pleasure on his face when he entered her for the first time. The way his toes moved up and down involuntarily when he released himself into her. The smell of his skin when she laid her head on his shoulder. The sparkle in his blue eyes when he told her that he loved her. John or Forrest, it didn’t matter what name he went by. He always had been and always would be the love of her life, her protector, and her equal.
“Life is beautiful Marlena….Whenever you need to be reminded of all that is beautiful and wonderful about you I’ll always be here to tell you,” Forrest told her as he gently wiped the tears from her eyes. He’d been holding her for the last hour trying to convince her to go back to America with her guardians, but she couldn’t see a life without him.
“I’ll go with you Forrest….we can be together like you promised.”
“You’re only sixteen Marlena….you need to finish school first. After you graduate we can be together all the time.”
“No….I need you now…please don’t leave me.”
“I don’t have a choice and neither do you…”
“We do…I’ll go to Europe with you…”
“We’ve discussed this before….its not going to work….My Aunt Suzanne has been circling like a hawk trying to figure out who I’ve been sneaking off to see this summer. I’m afraid we don’t have much more time before she figures out that its you and not some European socialite.”
“So what if she knows its me…what is she going to do?”
“She’ll never understand me dating a commoner, you know that. Alamain’s are betrothed at an early age….”
“You’re going to marry someone else?” she cried out in disbelief. It was bad enough that he was leaving, even worse that he was going to marry someone else.
“No Marlena…no….I have to simply go through the motions….when it gets close to the wedding I’ll disappear….I promise you, I only want to marry you.”
“I can’t do this Forrest…I can’t.”
“You can…you are the strongest person that I know…we may be separated by distance but you’ll always be in my heart,” he said as he took her in his arms. “You know how I feel about you….I could travel the word and buy things that would make kings and queens drool with envy but none of that would ever compare to your worth to me. You are everything I’ve ever wanted in a woman…Whatever happens, I promise you that I will find you.”
“Why God….Why?” Marlena asked outloud, desperate for an explanation. Firmly believing that everything happens for a reason, Marlena struggled with understanding why the road of her and John’s lives wasn’t smooth, but rather marked with sharp turns and potholes. How much more would they both have to endure before they passed the divine litmus test?
Only John and Stefano had the answers, Marlena realized. Wiping her bloody arms and hands on her white linen pants, Marlena straightened her shirt and tried to summon an air of authority. She was tired of playing the unwitting role of the victim. She was in charge or her life and destiny and was owed some answers by one Stefano Dimera.
********************************************************************
“I want some answers,” Marlena calmly demanded as she walked into the formal dining room, interrupting a loud and heated discussion between John and Stefano.
All eyes shifted towards her.
“Marlena,” John said as he rose from the table, concerned about her mental state, seeing the gun in her hand.
“I want some answers,” she demanded again as she lifted the small caliber handgun that had previously been obscured. Slowly her right hand rose as she pointed the gun directly at Stefano, her left hand gripping her right wrist for support.
“Marlena, don’t be silly….put it down,” Stefano demanded as he eyed her curiously. The thing that he loved about her the most was also the thing that drove him absolutely mad, her utter unpredictability.
“Not until you satisfy my curiosity about a couple of things.” A couple hundred things was more like it, but who was counting.
“It’s not loaded,” Stefano said, calling her bluff. John stood in Marlena’s line of vision trying to get her attention. She had an eerie calmness about her that was alarming.
“Is it?” she asked as she suddenly shifted her aim from Stefano to the large Dimera family painting that hung on the opposite wall. “The seventh son of the seventh son,” she muttered under her breath, “too bad they’re only 6 bullets in this gun.” With a passing glance at the picture she aimed the weapon towards the face of her father and fired.
“There is no reason for violence,” Stefano said with a slight quiver in his voice. He knew more than anyone her pendence for violence. She had killed before and he wouldn’t put anything past her.
“I should kill you…no one, and I mean no one would miss you,” Marlena said as she turned the gun and focused it on Stefano’s designer shirt. “You made me compromise my own dignity…”
“So that is what this is all about…” Stefano interrupted as he looked up at John. John was standing with a confused look on his face. “I made you forget.”
