Friday, June 26, 2015

The Battle Continues (Caitlin)

The Ender Dragon must be vanquished by its own, an ancient prophecy had said. This is why Vivienne turned against the Ender Dragon after faithfully serving all her life. She wanted better for us, even for Alisha, who hated her for showing kindness to me. I don't want to be tied to a dragon, she said to me. I thought she meant this literally, but now I understood her words. I kept folding the same paper over and over again. Grief and uncertainty roiled inside me like a stormy sea. I saw Steve out of the corner of my eye, like a light in the distance. He may have slain the physical dragon, but my soul still wrestled with its raw hatred and darkness. I would vanquish it when the time came and now was not the time.

The anti-seizure medication tried to make its way up my throat, yet I kept it down. I had no appetite and suffered excruciating pain from having fallen without Steve around to help me. He left, presumably to see Andrew, but he left me to suffer. I lost my balance on the hardwood floor and couldn't breathe for a minute. Paralyzed with fear, I lay there helplessly.  Fear clamped its hand over my mouth; I couldn't speak. Perhaps he didn't really care about me.

I tried to breathe deeply as I did when panicked, but I couldn't. It felt like an eternity lying here. When I regained some breath, I slowly struggled to my feet and walked normally (read: painfully slowly) to bed. I tried to fall asleep, but I couldn't. Pain lingered in my limbs. I examined them and found several bruises on places where I fell. Upon regaining the ability to breathe normally, I fought the pain. As an old Minecraftian proverb read, there was no point in losing a battle before it began. Steve came through the door with papers in tow. He sat about a foot from me.

I pulled out my clarinet to play right as Steve eyed the bruises on my right arm. Knowing that it was not good to play after I fell, I dismantled it and safely set it in my case. He opened his mouth to speak and proceeded.
         "What happened?" Before I set the case in a drawer next to another instrument case, I tried to read his expression. He wanted to read me, but just wasn't sure how. I wasn't sure what he wanted from me: a good, obedient housewife, a refugee, or something else entirely. All I knew was that I am free, but lost and confused. I still hurt from falling, so I told him about that. However, I didn't tell him about the dragon that I still wrestled with. The dragon must be vanquished by one of its own. He appeared shocked and concerned to say the leased. "Did you have another... atonic seizure?" He pursed his lips with fear. "Or worse?"
         "No. I just lost my balance on the floor and got the wind knocked out of me. It still hurts, but I'll be fine." Or would I? He left the room and returned with an ice pack. I placed it on my back, which apparently, suffered the most damage.
         "Would you like a hug?"Steve spread his arms, inviting me in. I went limp when he embraced me. I wanted the moment to last forever, just us, safe with each other. We didn't want to worry about seizures, meltdowns, or asthma attacks. We just wanted to exchange our warmth in a cold, cruel world. After letting go, my fear and anxiety melted like ice next to glowstone. The waging war's fires inside my soul cooled like lava changing into obsidian. He kissed me on the cheek and said "You're beautiful." This was different than all other compliments to my appearance. Other people said I was pretty, cute, or nice, but Steve said I was beautiful. The word was all-encompassing. Those two words made me certain that he loved me not only for my appearance or my personality, but for me.

Of course, as with anything good, it didn't last. I smelled something acrid and burning, which turned out to be a brewing stand going haywire. I breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn't a pre-seizure aura. When I went back, Steve handed the stack of papers to me. I examined each one carefully, then plucked out a self-examination packet. It resembled the emotion tests I took at school. Later, I would go to Andrew for a gait analysis and to discuss the test. Steve left, saying he had to get his dog back from the boarding center.

I got started on the test, quill in hand. Some of the questions caught me off-guard, some of them made me cry, and some left me confused. I had always thought something was wrong with me, but I was never sure what. This would help me to give whatever I suffered. It would have a name and I could inform people of that name. People understand labels as it is human nature to categorize. It only served to hurt me as a non-human, but now it will help me. After completing two hundred questions about what I did, I came to a checklist titled "Please check off and explain anything in the list that is applicable to you." I checked off "asthma", "severe allergies (shellfish, latex, and any antibiotic that ends in -cillin), "epilepsy", and "incontinence (Can't hold it for more than 5-10 minutes due to strong urge)". Seeing these things, the problems that plagued me stared me in the face. I folded more cranes. and hung them with string as I saw fit. I named them Lorelai, Marcinia, Samantha, and Alisha. Strangely enough, the cranes I left in the End weren't important to me except for one: the lapis lazuli crane. I tried to teach Steve how to fold paper cranes when we were in high school. He was proud of having finally folded that one crane and let me incorporate it into one of my hanging crane flocks.

        "I'm home!" Steve announced his presence. "Did you miss me, Hutch?" He turned to Hutch and scratched him behind the ears. The dog licked Steve's face in response and approached me cautiously. Hutch sniffed, cocked his head, and then wagged his tail. Hutch had shiny, soft gray fur, gleaming eyes, a bushy tail,  and stood slightly less high than a block on all fours. I had always liked dogs hearing about them, but I rarely saw them. Hutch stayed faithfully at Steve's side. "And I can never forget Caitlin!" He embraced me and handed me a piece of meat for Hutch. The dog gently accepted the meat and I scratched him behind the ears. "You have MRI and CAT scans scheduled for next Friday at 2:00 pm. Then, you will have meet a neurologist at 4:00. If you need me, I'll be rehearsing with the Minecraft Symphony Orchestra from 1:00-3:00 pm. I have "
        "Okay. How are MRI and CAT scans conducted? Do they hurt? Are there needles involved?" I had horrible needle anxiety for absolutely no rational reason. I had to work up all my courage just to get a flu shot and, having almost had a meltdown, I didn't plan on getting one again. Since Steve would not be with me at this time, I felt more nervous. What if I had to interrupt his rehearsal because  I couldn't do the test? Anxiety gripped me like a vise. My heart beat faster. The nausea from the anti-seizure medication worsened. I flapped my hands to clear my head.
         "Caitlin, stop. You'll worry yourself sick."
         "I know, but I can't help it." I went to fold cranes. I named them Alexa, Andreas, and Barrett. They flew in the back. I folded more cranes. I turned to a wastebasket thinking I would vomit, but I didn't. Steve headed to the kitchen to make dinner. I cut vegetables and apples and he prepped the chicken. After removing the gizzards and some other internal organs from the chicken, he set them aside. Unexpectedly, Hutch strolled in with a wagging tail, stood up on the counter, and wolfed them down. "Is he allowed to do that?"
          "He's trained to do that. That's his dinner. Who uses chicken gizzards anyway? It'd be like eating poisonous potatoes." I laughed, genuinely laughed, for the first time in forever. Steve's sense of humor swept my soul off its feet. I showed a timid grin while he beamed with delight. "You have a pretty smile. You should show it more often."
          "You do too." I caught a whiff of cooking chicken. "Let's see if the chicken is done."
          "It'll be ready in an hour according to the recipe."
          "Right. What will we do in the meantime? Do you want to play a duet?"
          "Sure! Just let me get my trumpet." We hurried into the bedroom to get our instruments (clarinet and trumpet respectively) and sat down on two chairs with music stands. "What do you want to play?"
          "I don't know. What do you want to play?" The selection of selected study books overwhelmed me. I selected a clarinet duet book and flipped to a passage in E. Steve looked uncertainly at the key signature. He volunteered to play the bottom part, but I insisted that I play it. Clarinets can play the low E, but trumpets cannot. We stumbled through the first page of music. Something about my reed was off, yet I couldn't quite identify what it was. Steve played the high C about five cents sharp. We stopped at measure 75. He rubbed his temples afterwards. I asked if anything was wrong and he gave no answer. He took the chicken out of the furnace.

          "Um...can you carve this chicken for me?" Steve looked embarrassed at his inability to carve a chicken. I did so, as I have carved many chickens in my lifetime. We sat down to eat the dinner we prepared. In my water glass, I saw a reflection of myself. The scars had mostly faded, yet were still there in my head.

Saturday, June 20, 2015

Delaying The Evaluation (Steve)

Twenty days after the incident, I worried about Caitlin. She tested positive for a seizure disorder after the retake. This morning, she managed to eat a small portion of oatmeal and less than half of an apple. She sat in a corner of the living room folding cranes in some kind of unidentifiable pattern and glanced nervously as if expecting a dragon to swoop over her head. Every time I attempted to talk to her, she shook her head and walked away. Now, she picked at her porkchop uncertainly, eating so little that she might not have eaten it at all. I reminded her that she should take her anti-seizure medication, but she refused. She made a gesture that might have suggested that the medication made her nauseous or that choking down the pill hurt, but, for all I know, she said Steve is a terrible cook.

 Today, she would get a developmental disability evaluation courtesy of my friend Andrew Lai. I wanted to say that he should wait until Caitlin's scars healed, yet the words came out a jumbled mess. However, he insisted that she took the test. It would help you to understand what is going on inside her head, he said. Andrew forced me into doing things I didn't feel like, but I didn't feel comfortable with him testing Caitlin like a lab rat. I don't know if she understood me, but I told her where I was
going.

        "Bye. I'm going to see Andrew about the tests. Do you want to come?" I received no response.

With that, I left. I made my way down the street with my concerns in tow. I (quite literally) ran into my friend as I have a problem with bumping into things. He was pleasantly surprised to see me and somewhat irritated that I walked face first into him.
        "Steve! Do you have no spatial awareness?" He fingered the pin on his jacket a certain number of times as he does when agitated. "What brings you here?" Looking around at the crowds, I decided that it was best that we talked in his office. He led us there and, when we arrived, he made a quick
call to one of his patients. Apparently, someone had to wait five to ten minutes longer for a cardiologist referral.

         "I came...about Caitlin." Upon speaking her name, Andrew seemed to snap to attention
         "What about her? Is she okay? Does she need any more tests? Inhaler refills? Blood work? A gait analysis? A free massage coupon?"
         "I think we should hold off the developmental disability test. She seems to be...traumatized
right now."
         "How so? She's away from the dragon, her horrible sisters, and has you."
         "Well...she's been acting weird lately. She barely ate anything today after not eating for the last
 two days, wouldn't talk to me for five days, and refused to take her anti seizure medication. Now, she
just sits in the corner and folds the same paper crane again and again. I know she folded cranes 


before, but never the same paper over and over again and not tensely. "I don't think she knows what 
it's like for someone to care. It's like she's crying out for help."

         "I still think the test will assist her in self-awareness. Maybe it will boost her self-esteem if she knows that she's not just a screw-up. That kind of mentality is common in non-humans." 
         "Wait...non human?" I hated that about Andrew. He had some inexplicable urge to categorize everyone. Now, he called Caitlin non-human? Who did he think he was?
         "She appears to be an Endernymph, like Vivienne. Ordinarily, they become immortal at age 18 unless they die before then or oppose the Ender dragon. Their sole purpose is to propagate endermen unless they are one of the seven sisters, which are the high priestesses of the Ender dragon." He went on, but the sound of the clock had a stronger, clearer voice. 
         "Why, though, does she clam up when I try to talk?" To call me frustrated would be an understatement. When someone you love doesn't seem to reciprocate it, you're not sure if they love you at all. "I thought I could make her open through my quest."
         "The test might be able to tell you. Anyway, I don't want to keep my patients waiting." With that, he dismissed me. When I got home, I flopped on my bed and sobbed in utter defeat. Out of nowhere, Caitlin offered me a piece of paper and walked away. The paper was pink with purple paisleys. 


 cranes, but..." The words could not come.
         "You're concerned about how she would react to her potential diagnoses? I came to a conclusion of Asperger's Syndrome, which is a form of autism. Maybe she also has cerebral palsy, as evidenced by the MRI scan and CAT scan, but maybe it's just dyspraxia. I have also considered the possibility of ADHD and expressive language disorder." He listed off more acronyms and disorders, but I, once again, tuned him out. My blood boiled. How could he just casually apply labels to people like that? That's what doctors do, but the way he talked about Caitlin like some sort of case study rubbed me the wrong way.
         "No." That was all I could say to him. I wanted to punch him in the face, but I refrained from doing so. He backed away and prepared for the impending blow, but I relented. Something made my anger dissolve.


Thursday, June 18, 2015

At my Worst (Caitlin)

         "But...Where will I live? I don't have anything of value, I left my cranes behind, and...the overworld doesn't seem to want me."  This was the biggest transition in my life and it happened in a blur. After the euphoria wore off, I felt agitated. I clenched my hands in fists. I trembled from head to toe. Anxiety built in me like a TNT block slowly lighting other TNT in an enclosed room. I couldn't let Steve see me like this, so I ran. He looked at me bewildered. Those blue eyes fixed on me with utter shock. He pursued me into the woods.

         "But I don't just want you. I need you." Why would anyone need me except for as a subservient slave? Did Steve just want me to serve him as I did the dragon and my sisters? I climbed into a tree the fastest I could, using all four limbs to steady myself. I emerged at the top.
         "For what, exactly?" I had some sense of purpose in the end, but not here. I was not willing to be abused and enslaved again.
          "I don't know... just in some irrational way, I know I do." After years of being misled, how could I trust anyone? However, I instinctively trusted Steve. I saw stability and security in him, yet I
couldn't explain it. I took out my bow and fired an arrow at a skeleton. It clattered in a heap. I 
climbed down and joined Steve. He embraced me with very little warning and I went limp as is customary for me. Apparently surprised, he cocked his head and let go. I fell to the ground, but he 
helped me to my feet. "Stay with me", he said. "It would kill me if I weren't there for you." I walked with him do the cobblestone path. I tripped over a few stones, but Steve caught me every time. Then,
 the world went black.

I woke up in the hospital. Andrew hovered over me and asked me something I couldn't quite process
. He seemed to understand and waited for me to regain my senses.  The doctor turned towards Steve.
          "What happened?" Steve implored Andrew to know why I had a drop attack. "Will she be okay?" I saw genuine concern on their faces. I never saw that look since Vivienne died. I remembered
 her bandaging a cut on my arm when I was little. He turned towards me and asked me if I needed 
anything. The bright lights bothered me to no end, surgeons ran by in green blurs, and machines beeped. If I wasn't so afraid of the IV in my left arm, I would have covered my ears. Tears stung my eyes. I wanted to say Yes! Make the noises stop! but I couldn't. Sensing my agitation, Steve tried to put his hand on my non-needled arm, but I recoiled. He walked away helplessly, but I wanted him to stay. Andrew walked over to introduce himself, but I only got this:
       "Hello. I am Dr. Andrew Lai...MRI...brain scan...history of atonic seizures...CAT 
scan...implants...pacemakers...metal on clothing...food or drink in the last 8 hours...EEG scan?" None 
of it made sense. The next thing I know, I was in a dark tube listening to this awful clattering noise. It went on and on with no end. Later, I was removed from the tube; masked figure placed electrodes on my head and told me to fall asleep.
asleep. I tried, but I couldn't quite get there. Eventually, a wave of exhaustion washed over me and I 
did so.

I don't remember what else happened, but I remember waking up in Steve's home with him next to me. With that same genuine concern, he, again, asked me what happened. I never wanted anyone to see me like that, especially those who cared about me. He took my hand and told me about the EEG test results. I tested positive for a seizure disorder, but the stress of the hospital visit might have affected my results. He said that he would schedule another EEG test to make sure that it would not be a false positive. 


Monday, June 8, 2015

Unresolved Conflict (Caitlin)

When I met Sofi again, my heart beat fast. My palms started sweating and I felt so anxious I feared that it might trigger another asthma attack, drop, or meltdown in me. The first time we met left me a certain outcast for the rest of my life.

It all started in high school. She looked with emerald envy as Steve held Vivienne's hand. I wanted Andrew to talk to me, but he was so shy and mysterious. It was rumored that he couldn't love anyone, but, judging by the way we looked at Sofi, I thought otherwise. I walked down the hall and, suddenly, I bumped into her due to my unsteady gait. She spilled her papers and I backwards.
        "Sorry!" I gathered them in my hands and handed them back.
        "You'd better be. You're just like Vivienne, aren't you? All high and mighty." Sofi looked down at me and snatched the papers from my hands. Little did she know that I was anything but high and mighty. As painful as school was, I just tried a little harder, stayed a little later, and laid low. I never wanted to be in a relationship as I feared hurting someone. Vivienne, though having prominent status
, never seemed high and mighty. If she were high and mighty, she would not have held Steve's hand 
when he needed reassurance or given me her lunch when someone stole mine, even for the sixty-third time. (I counted.)

Sofi tormented me for the duration of my high school career. From accusing me of seeking attention
to faking a victim status when I refused to let her copy my homework in exchange for x favor (which, according to hearsay and written records, she never kept her word on.), she had it in for me. I never remembered saying anything insulting to her. This, however, did not stop her. On my first day of school, she misled me to the restroom. I had an embarrassing accident that day and she laughed as I stood there. She even sabotaged my history teacher into giving me a lower grade than I deserved. Now, I looked her in the face once again. The same person  stared straight back at me with piercing green eyes.

Friday, June 5, 2015

A Good Friend's Return (Andrew)

I saw a figure walking towards me from about a mile away with someone else. The larger of the two held something large and egg-shape. Thinking it was an urn with Steve's ashes, I suddenly felt nauseous. A wave of grief and guilt washed over me. I failed to prevent him from going on this mission. I failed to break my routine to save him.

I failed him.  I really did.

Unlike all the other times I failed Steve, this time, he couldn't forgive me and tell me it was all right. I looked down at my hands, which I picked bloody and raw. I promised Steve that I would get over this and I didn't. His leaving made it worse. What would he think knowing that I didn't honor his last wish? The figures neared me. I waited because that was all I could do. As the sun set, they came closer and closer. I found myself picking at my hands again. Stop that! I thought, but I couldn't. The figures walked along the cobblestone path. I braced myself for their words and walked tremulously along the path. It's better to fight head on rather than to wait.

Reciting digits of pi in my head, I met the figures. The smaller of them scrambled into a tree. The other extended his hand.
          "Hello". He greeted me. I heard him speak more, but the sound of my own thoughts muffled his words. I almost heard Steve through his voice. He wanted to Why did he have to die a hero? I planned for us to be together into our old age. We dragged each other into and out of life-threatening situations. We shared jokes, made good-natured jabs at each other, and, for the most part, were there when we needed each other the most. The figure attempted to reach out to hug me, but I denied it. If Steve died in the cold End, I should die cold as well. He sat patiently and waited for me to come out of my head as Steve would have done.

Oh, Steve...

          "Just go. I don't want your company" I snatched the egg-shaped urn from him and cried. He laughed.
          "Some way to welcome a friend. I just came back from the best quest in my life and you respond by having a meltdown?" I couldn't believe it. Could it be? No. I was just deforming reality into what I hoped for. I was becoming insane. I had to face the facts. 
          "I'm sorry. I just miss my friend. We were friends for ten years and..." I left it at that. Steve would not want me to incoherently blubber in a stranger's face.
          "Well, I'm back. What else is there to say?" The clouds in the sky parted to reveal a thousand stars and a full moon. It was Steve! I (quite literally) jumped for joy.
          "But where's Caitlin?" I could relate to her easily. Both of us had limited social skills among other issues. I cared about her like she was my sister. She was two years younger than Steve, but was in the same grade as him for middle school and high school. Even then, she got all As and took many advanced classes. I envied her. I could never sit still and absorb information the way she did. Maybe it was easier for someone like her.
          "She's in a tree. I guess it's another trait of hers I just need to get used to." Upon hearing these words, Caitlin scrambled down from the tree. She seemed to shrink away, as if wanting to fade into the night. While I never stood in the spotlight like Steve, I never experienced this level of shyness. I saw Steve's face change into an expression I couldn't identify easily. Was it shock? Concern? Maybe anger? "What happened to your hands? They look like silverfish attacked them!"
          "I started picking again." I hung my head in shame. "I was so worried about you that my hands took over."
          "I understand." He quickly embraced me. Caitlin stood at his side clutching her apron. She waved with a quick, slight motion accompanied by a grin that tugged at the corners of her mouth. I noted her features. Her hair grew out about six inches and fell about her waist in the back, she had perfect pale skin as usual, and a faint purple aura seemed to flicker around her. I thought of her as off-puttingly beautiful. For starters, she was endernymph, not human. She did not have the coercive guile of most, but she was definitely too much in many areas to be human. I preferred a balance of ideals, flaws, and non-issues. Sofi was the perfect example of this. She is quite pretty, but snares me in traps when I mine and can't go a day without playing video games. On the other hand, I have extensive medical knowledge as a doctor, rush into combat without thinking, and need access to some kind of mining to calm down. We had our discrepancies, but that was okay. What's life without a skirmish?
           Caitlin looked around trying to escape, but Steve grabbed her by the arm and awkwardly introduced us. She looked shocked and annoyed, but passively dismissed it. They went on the path holding hands and walking into the night.


Monday, June 1, 2015

Going Home (Steve)

While Caitlin's sisters were pretty, Caitlin was beautiful. Her skin was the color of End stone and her obsidian eyes reflected my face. She wore a green dress with a sand-colored apron smudged with soot. It fell at her ankles so her small feet, in dirt-colored boots, could see the light. Her silky black hair fell in a way that flattered her face. However, these features were meaningless compared to her personality. A small nervous grin on her face mirrored her endearing unsureness. Her steps were shaky and slow. I saw the scars on her face, presumably from the dragon (or her sisters) clawing her face. I did not want those scars there. 

Caitlin held a bucket to catch water in case it dripped on her head. I'm not exactly sure why she does not like water on her head, but she looked pained when it hit. I led her through the meandering pathways and, when we reached the exit, I saw Caitlin pick up a small piece of paper. She tore it in half and folded them into cranes. I was never good at origami. When she tried to teach me how to make a crane in high school, she kept the best one.
         "What led you here?" She asked again. I handed her the crane, which I had kept since she gave it to me. After studying it in the sunlight, she handed it back to me. "How could Giselle lead you here?" 
         "You named the crane? Why?" The words did not come out in the way they used to. What used to be easy for me was now painful and awkward. I feared the effects it would have on my musicianship. I played trumpet, guitar, and other instruments to cope with the small, but still noticeable rift between what I felt and what I said. That rift widened significantly after fighting the dragon.
         "I don't know. It's just...something I do." Caitlin blushed and avoided my gaze. She focused on me again. " We continued on the path. "You could have come for Alisha, Marcinia, or anyone else, but you chose me. It's tradition that the hero saves the most beautiful and, yet, you chose me."
         "I guessed I followed tradition for once in my life." Once again, her cheeks turned a rosy pink, but, this time, a grin accompanied it. I could tell she appreciated the comment, but she quickly denied it.
         "No. I'm too short, too skinny, and have too many scars," She rolled up her sleeves to display several scratch marks from the dragon, a burn from when her sisters tricked her into cleaning a hot oven, and something else I couldn't identify. "I can't carry a conversation very well, freak out over the smallest things, and..." Caitlin started coughing hard. I feared that she would faint, so I stood behind her. She produced an inhaler from her bag and used it. After gasping for air, she regained her composure. "I have asthma and a severe form at that. I can't run for long periods of time. I can't--"
        "Don't talk about yourself like that." Honestly, I couldn't stand it. Aside from the long list, I hated it when other people degraded themselves. I especially hated it when Caitlin cut herself down. I felt a burning, radical love for her that I never felt for anyone else, not even Vivienne. I saw a vision of her walking down the aisle in a flowing white dress and I wanted to be at the end. For once in my life, I wanted to stand still and wait. For her. For us. For that, we made the journey home.

Leaving the End (Caitlin)

The rescue came as a shock to me. Ordinarily, I would have had a meltdown or refused to do anything, but I was finally free. I had no idea where I was going, but I was finally free. Steve found the portal and, as I followed him, I hesitated.
         "Are you coming?" He waited for me at the portal. The portal was made of End stone and an unidentifiable cyan material. Eyes of Ender lay in each slot and a starry night in the center led to the horrible realm.  I was told that if I were to step through I would disintegrate. Not knowing if that was true, I tried to voice my concerns, but it came out like this:
         "I'm scared."  I began to cry out of fear and frustration. Steve reached his hand out, but I pushed it away. It felt like an attack, though I was almost certain he had no intentions to harm me. I looked around at the desolate landscape of white stone and obsidian. I desperately wanted to leave this place, yet it was the only "home" I ever knew.
         "Don't be." Steve reached out his hand. I grasped it and, as if he were transferring his courage to me, I felt a surge of bravery. I stepped through the portal with him. Portal travel feels like stepping through a thin layer of air into another realm.

We emerged in a stronghold. It was a large stone room with iron bars for windows. Some of the stone cracked and leaked. Water dripped on my head like little bullets. It hurt. Steve didn't seem to mind. He carried the dragon's egg like a trophy. Upon exiting, we emerged in a desert. While some would see this as the happy ending, it was only the beginning of a longer, more treacherous journey.