Ela
--------------------------------------
I stared at the empty suitcase lying on my bed, puzzled. What did Akira expect me to pack inside of it? Even since coming to the mansion, I had only acquired a few new sets of clothes and some belongings. I grabbed everything I owned from the drawers and tossed it into the case.
The suitcase didn’t even end up half full. Well, damn.
Grumbling, I decided to look around the mansion to see if there was anything else I could take.
We were going to Germany to meet Akira’s brother, Charlie. Apparently he was well-educated in the realm of evil scientists performing biological experiments on innocent creatures. I sighed. Germany. The closest I had ever been to Germany was when I snuck into Epcot at Disney World and snagged a bratwurst from one of the food stands. Honestly, that’s as close as I ever wanted to get. The thought of being on an airplane for that long freaked me out.
But did I really ever even go to Epcot?
With my brother now hanging around, I was beginning to remember things about my past. My real past. Unfortunately, everything was far too muddled to discern the real memories from the fake ones. Years overlapped. I was six with Eric and Regina, but I was six in another scene, too. There were horses, and lemonade, and wonderful things that I never got to do in foster care. But when I tried to remember things after that: nothing. It went right back to the memories of being on the run with Tommy. But these had to be fake. Tommy was a human. No wings. And somehow, I didn’t believe that he had been experimented on, too. I needed some kind of hint as to what my past was like.
And suddenly, an idea hit me.
The Internet.
This was something that had never occurred to me in all seventeen years of my life. I never thought it was necessary--I had always just assumed that I was some worthless foster kid. With wings. But now, with everything that was going on, I wasn’t so sure. The Internet had all the answers, right?
I rushed to the library, dodging the other members carrying stacks of clothing and other “necessities.” I was sure that the other members figured that I needed to stock up on books for the trip. Really, that actually wasn’t a bad idea. I needed something to fill the void in my suitcase.
Naturally, I found Bridgette glued to the computer chair, 10 Tumblr windows open before her.
I coughed. “Really? Gotta get in your last fix before Germany?”
Bridgette started in her chair and turned. “Oh, Ela! Hi!” Bridgette and I had bonded slightly since her arrival over books and Tumblr. I was pretty sure that she didn’t actually like to read, but had done so just to please me. She, in revenge, had tried to get me addicted to Tumblr, but I just couldn’t wrap my head around all of the “slash” present on the site. Regardless, I did enjoy her company, as she was a refreshing break from the other members.
I dare say we were even friends.
I smiled at the angel. “Can I borrow the computer for a sec?”
Bridgette eyed the screen with distrust. “Only if you don’t bother my tabs.”
“I won’t. I just need to look a few things up.”
Bridgette hesitated, but then scooted her chair away from the computer desk. I strode over and bent over the keyboard, fingers hovering over the keys as I figured out what to search. First things first: Hank Ramsley.
The list of Google results appeared: Henry Ramsley… Hank Ramsey…
Hank Ramsley, Private Investigator, did not exist.
I frowned. Had Tommy lied to me?
Okay… Thomas Reimann. I had to make sure that my “brother” wasn’t a fake, too. I hit the enter key, and a new wave of results appeared in front of me.
I gave a slight sigh of relief as a picture of my brother appeared, cheesing for the camera. He looked several years younger than he did currently, but the red hair told no lies. But what on earth was he holding? And wearing? Was that a graduation cap and gown? And a diploma? He was surrounded by other boys his age. Normal boys. They were all smiling.
No. No way. It was impossible. By the time we had separated, he would have been too old to start and finish school at a normal age. I inspected his graduation cap for any sign of adornment for the next year‘s plans. That was a thing normal high schoolers did when they graduated, right? Sure enough, his cap contained the name of some university unknown to me, with Class of 2011! scrawled underneath in what looked like puff paint.
I could feel my stomach beginning to churn uneasily. What was going on? Fingers trembling, I typed in one final search: Ela Reimann.
I held my breath as I waited for the page to load.
WEALTHY FAMILY’S CHILD GOES MISSING.
ELA REIMANN: AMBER ALERT
REIMANN CHILD STILL MISSING. PARENTS IN ANGUISH.
WHAT HAPPENED TO LITTLE ELA REIMANN?
ELA REIMANN CASE: BODY FOUND?
BODY FALSE: NO DNA MATCH
REIMANN CASE GOES COLD AFTER FOUR YEARS. PARENTS REFUSE TO GIVE UP.
REIMANN FAMILY STILL POURING RESOURCES INTO FINDING MISSING DAUGHTER
I clicked on several of the articles. Accompanying each was a black-and-white photo of Tommy and I. My brother was dressed a nice polo-style shirt with his hair combed. I was wearing a dress far too frilly for my tastes, hair in curly pigtails. The two of us were sitting on a bench in front of what could only be… my parents? Their facial structures were a definite match. I couldn’t remember ever taking this picture, but something in my brain told me that it was indeed me.
“I haven’t seen you in almost eleven years…” Tommy’s words rang in my head.
A hand touched my shoulder. “Ela… Are you okay?” Oh, that’s right. Bridgette was still sitting next to me. She sounded extremely worried for some odd reason.
I suddenly took notice to a shallow, heavy breathing echoing throughout the room.
And realized that it was coming from me.
I looked at my reflection in the computer screen. My lower lip was quivering, my complexion turned to ghostly white. Standing up straight, I tried to smile reassuringly at the brunette, but the corners of my mouth only resisted. “Oh, I’m fine.” I exited out of my search windows, gave a small wave, and walked away. As I passed a bookshelf, I attempted to nonchalantly grab a few books for the trip, but my shaking hands only clumsily knocked several others to the floor. Afraid that I would retch all over the floor if I picked them up, I left them lying in a pitiful, disorganized heap.
What was I supposed to do? I wanted--no, I needed answers. But I wasn’t ready to face my brother yet. I exhaled, clutching the books to my chest. I was sure that if I held them any tighter, my fingers were going to go numb.
Ash.
I could talk to Ash.
I had never actually gotten to speak with the nymph since the Christmas party incident, but she had to know something, right? After all, she had traveled with Tommy to the mansion and was there during the call from “Hank Ramsley.”
I shakily made my way to the nymph’s room. I sat my books on the shelf outside of the room and quickly knocked on the wooden door.
“’Ello? I’ll be right there.”
I fidgeted nervously as I waited for Ash. I ran possible questions to ask through my head at the speed of light, praying that Ash would know how to answer them. When the door finally opened, I jumped as I came back to reality.
“Oi, Ela, I’m surprised to see you h--” Ash cut herself off, eyes widening. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost, and I don‘t mean Kuroshiro.”
I swallowed. “Um, yeah. Can I talk to you?”
The nymph studied me curiously. “Sure. Come in.” She moved out of the doorway, allowing me to enter the room, and moved her bag from the bed so that I could sit.
“Is everything all right?” Ash asked.
I steadily sat myself down on the bed, ignoring the question. I had no clue where to begin. Taking in a deep breath, I asked, “How much do you know about my brother?”
The British girl seemed thrown off by the question. She thought for a moment, hand to her chin. “Not much, really. I mean, I haven’t known him that long. He just kind of showed up, demanding that I give him answers about your whereabouts.”
“Did he say anything about it that struck you as, um, strange?”
“Well,” Ash began, readjusting her hat as she spoke. “He said something about private investigators, which of course led to him speaking about this mysterious Hank Ramsley fellow…”
“Mysterious?” I laughed far too inappropriately for the situation. “More like nonexistent.”
The nymph frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I tried to look him up online and, well, there was nothing there.”
Her frown deepened. “Well, that’s peculiar. I know that Tommy didn’t make the story up, though, because I was there when he got the call.”
“What did Ramsley say?”
“Oh, well, I couldn’t really hear what he was actually saying, but it was apparently just what Tommy said when he stormed into the mansion that night. Something about being in danger, everyone needing to leave as soon as possible...”
My hand instinctively moved to the phone in my pocket. I wondered, could the texts and Ramsley’s message be connected somehow?
I paused for a few moments.
“Did Tommy say anything else about, oh, I dunno, his life?”
“Oh yes! He also told me that he had just finished graduate school in the spring…Why do you ask?”
“Ash, I’ve apparently been missing for eleven years.” The statement came out matter-of-factly, my voice calm and unwavering. “I found newspaper articles about myself. I’m a missing child. A face on a milk carton. Nothing makes sense anymore. I never lived with foster parents. I never ran away with Tommy. I didn’t live on my own for all of those years. So, what really happened?
I mean, I know that our memories were supposedly tampered with while we were in the lab, but I don’t just have that time confused. I have years of my life missing that I can’t remember.” My voice was a whisper now.
Ash looked at me, sympathy showing in her eyes. “Hey, cheer up. We’ll figure it out.”
Even though it was a few simple words, the girl’s words were enough to snap me out of my self-pity. I smiled at her. I felt like I had been smiling a lot recently, and I didn’t know how to feel about it. “Thanks, Ash.” I said, hoping that my gratitude was actually audible.
“You’re welcome. And now, may I ask a question of my own?”
“Shoot.”
“Does the name Sam mean anything to you?”
I frowned, attempting to rack my brain for the answer. The more I thought about the name, the more my cheeks began to burn in anger, but I had no clue why. “No,” I finally answered. “Should it?”
The nymph sighed. “Never mind. It’s not important.”
The two of us sat silently for a few moments. “Well,” I stood up. “I guess I’ll see you in a few.” We exchanged a quick goodbye, and I left her to finish her packing.
My resolve had strengthened. I was going to find out what happened. I was going to get answers.
And I was going to get them in Germany.
---------------------------
Fun fact! If you actually google “Hank Ramsley,” nothing shows up. :D
I originally didn’t want to reveal so much of Ela’s TRUEPAST!!!111! at this point, but everyone else has started getting vague clues, and I figured Tommy probably acts as a trigger to Ela. SO WHY NOT GET IT OUT OF THE WAY? She still doesn’t really remember anything though, technically. She just knows that SOMETHING IS TERRIBLY WRONG ABOUT THE PAST ELEVEN YEARS OF HER LIFE. Ohoho~
Also I swear I am getting worse at writing for Ela. D: Or just getting worse at writing in general.
