Secret Sins Ch. 11

" ... You... you can control people's minds," I carefully accused. "Can't you?"

"Yes and no," she replied with a careless shrug. "'Controlling people's minds', as you put it, is a little different from what I do. I only influence people's thought patterns and decision making process. Actually controlling a person's mind, like a kid playing with a radio controlled car, is far different."

"But, without the semantics, you can make people do what you want them to do," I returned.

"Yes."

" ... Have... have you been doing it to me?"

"On occasion, and sometimes unintentionally. A few times when you were freaking out, I was able to get you to calm down before you fell on your bible but, other than that... a lot of it's just us."

"What do you mean?" I asked, still not having relaxed.

"Well... as we've said a few times before, you and I have a connection, and that connection sometimes causes you to act a little differently when I'm around. It's not because of anything I purposefully do, like how I 'converted' the Rahmans- heh- no, it's just your natural reaction to me."

"I knew it," I quietly said.

"What?"

"You didn't convert Sumitra and Debesh. You brainwashed them!"

"Now who's talking semantics? Look, if it's that important to you, I'll just convert them back to Islam tomorrow. Same thing anyway."

And this was where I started to have trouble, where I started to see how different, evil or not, that Donna was. She was indifferent towards people, uncaring even, and it frightened me in the way that it would frighten me to learn that I'd been living next door to an unattended nuclear reactor.

"Who are you?" I quietly asked.

"You know who I am. I'm Donna Liski, your assistant, your lover, your best friend. Your only friend."

Most of this was disturbingly true.

"You're not Donna Liski," I nonetheless determined, pointing to the kitchen as I added, "That's Donna Liski. Who are you?"

Rolling her eyes, she returned, "I, for all intents and purposes, am Donna Liski."

"For all intents and purposes?"

"Yes," she replied. "My intents. My purposes."

"And exactly what are your intents and purposes?"

"Right now? You are."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I'm here for you. This name, this house, Donna Liski's social insurance number, bank accounts, car, driver's licence, birth certificate, her clothes, her husband if need be... actually the very fact that I'm even here, in Regina... all for you."

I was having trouble responding to this information as I processed the fact that she hadn't just stolen someone's identity, but their entire life. Remembering my investigation into her work history, her prior employer's glowing recommendations of her, it suddenly made a lot more sense that the attributes they'd described more fittingly belonged to the woman in the kitchen.

"You lied on your resume?" I stupidly asked.

After a short, quiet laugh, she replied, "Yes, Tara. I lied on my resume. It's actually her resume. So, I suppose you'll have to fire me now?"

"So, you didn't really grow up in North Central," I assumed.

"No, I grew up in Ontario."

"Is anything you told me about yourself true?"

"Yes."

"Like what?" I asked.

"I love you."

"Stop playing games with me," I dared, asking again, "Tell me who you are. Tell me what you are. What do you want with me?"

Picking up her glass of lemonade, she took a sip, regarding me thoughtfully over the rim of her glass before replying, "I think it's a little bit early to tell you all that. You might not believe me if I did, and I kinda need you to. So, we'll just wait a little while before we go there."

"Well, I'm not calling you Donna anymore."

"Oh, for-!"

"It's not your name! And, as someone who loves you, as my best friend, I think I deserve to know what your real name is, if nothing else!"

"Mistress?" the man she'd referred to as Roman called from the kitchen, concern in his tone. "Is everything alright? Do you need assis-?"

"Yes, yes!" Donna irritatedly called. "Everything's fine, just shut up!"

"Yes, Mistress!" he happily acknowledged.

"Yes," she agreed, irritation still in her tone, "you do have a right to know, and I will tell you in due time, a time when I feel comfortable with-"

"In due time?" I asked, becoming irritated myself now, enough to forget myself and the situation. "Why not now? You say you love me, but you won't even tell me your real name? How would you feel if-?"

She suddenly and angrily whipped her glass of lemonade across the room to shatter against the wall, startling me into silence just before she barked, "Because it's not a name! It's a fuckin' accusation, and I hate it! So, I'd rather not tell you until I'm more fuckin' comfortable with the idea! That's why! Tara!"

For the present, this was certainly enough reason for me as the blackened pits that were her eyes roiled hellishly. She was about to bark something else, but stopped, closing her mouth and eyes to make a visible effort at containing her sudden anger while I swallowed fearfully. After a minute, she continued with a forced calm, looking at her plate as she spoke with a hard tone.

"My mother named me. My mother was a wack-job. One of the many things you and I have in common, actually."

" ... What?" I carefully asked in a small voice. "My mother isn't a wack-job. You've never even met my-"

"Not her, Tara. Your real mother."

Again, my jaw fell in confusion.

"Go home, sweetie pie," she told me. "I do love you, more than you could possibly know, but I'm upset now, and I want you gone. Just go."

With that, she got up and, without another word, crossed the floor to an elegant staircase.

"Wait!" I called, shooting to my feet.

She stopped, one foot on the bottom step, looking at me with a barely contained lack of patience that made me feel sorry for the real Donna and her husband.

"I... I can't go back there."

"Why?"

"There's something..."

"Tara, I must warn you that I have absolutely no patience right now for-"

"There's something in the basement!"

That changed her attitude, and mighty quickly. Removing her foot from the step, she slowly walked to my position by the couch.

"What did you say?"

She seemed quite interested now. Interested and concerned, though her proximity scared me almost as much as whatever it was in the basement did.

"There's something in the basement," I whispered. "It... it wants me. I'm too afraid to go back there."

She stared at me, the colours in her eyes popping and dancing around their accompanying darkness as I felt her true love for me momentarily melting my fear of her and even the thing in the basement. Just when I was going to ask her if I could pull her pants down and lick her pussy, the sound of her voice snapped me out of it.

"Go to a hotel, sweetie pie. Call me when you get there."

"Donna, I can't afford that."

" ... Just a minute, then," she said.

She went back to the stairs, ascended to the upper level and left me waiting for less than five minutes before she returned, clutching some colourful paper in her hand.

She held it out to me, practically shoving it at me, saying, "Here. It's old, but it'll still work."

It turned out to be a handful of cash, the old paper currency. Most of it was crumpled up like it was garbage, and I dropped some on the floor when I took it from her.

"Call me when you get to wherever you end up, but don't go back to the Mission."

I could only nod.

"I suggest the Travelodge on Albert Street. And take care of that bump on the head. Maybe find someone to spend the night with, too."

She gave me a quick peck on the lips, a brief, strangely sympathetic smile, and then left me there to return to the upper level of the expensive house she'd commandeered along with its owners.

Once I was back in my car, I was able to take a closer look at the cash she'd given me. There was over five thousand Dollars there, mostly fifty and one hundred Dollar denominations, but there were also four one thousand Dollar bills, some twenties and even a few one and two Dollar bills. The fifties had a picture of mounted RCMP arrayed in a circle on the back, and none of the rest of the bills were familiar to me either.

Where she could have gotten this cash was certainly a concern, but I had no doubt of its authenticity. If she were passing around funny money, I'd think that she'd have enough sense to make the bills of current issue so they wouldn't attract undue attention. In any case, this was far from my major concern. Donna had not only confirmed my already strong suspicions of her mind controlling/influencing abilities, but had also opened some other inquiries for me as well. The chief among those concerns was dealt with as soon as I got settled in my room at the Travelodge Hotel. Hopping up on the bed, I sat on my thigh and began dialing.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Mom," I nervously greeted.

"Hi, honey! Did you forget something earlier?"

"Uh, actually, I..."

" ... Yes?"

I hadn't rehearsed this, hadn't worked out how I'd approach my parents about the question that Donna had put into my head. My mind wasn't nearly well enough settled for that, and I had real trouble coming around to it with my mother.

"Well, there's been something... something on my mind, and I wasn't going to ask because it just seems so silly. Stupid, really..."

"Honey, just ask," Mom said, curiosity in her tone.

"Yeah... Mom, was I... was I adopted?"

The pause that followed, where any parent would pause before answering such an outlandish question, made me feel foolish for asking, yet this initial reaction, mixed with relief, was obviously preferable to the previous, sudden uncertainty of my parentage.

But, as that pause from the other end of the line continued, relief drained away, slowly replaced with growing shock because I knew that such a continued silence could only mean one thing.

"Tara, honey... we wanted to tell you. We wanted to... At first, you were too young; you wouldn't have understood, and we didn't want you to start out life with the feeling that you were an outsider within your own family. I mean, how can a small child take news like that any other way than badly?"

(Oh my God!)

"Then, you were this energetic, beautiful, intelligent thirteen year old, so full of life and love, just beginning those crucial teen age years, and we didn't want to... We'd gotten so many compliments on you, on what a perfect daughter you were, how well behaved you were, your good grades in school. There were never any problems with you. You were so happy and well adjusted, and we'd heard so many horror stories about people's adopted children's behaviour, and we didn't want to disturb who and what you were. We didn't want to throw those doubts and questions into your mind at that age... Again, the time just didn't seem right."

(This can't be real!)

"And then, you were enrolled in CFOT, working and studying so hard, and we were so proud of you. How could we throw that at you at a time like that? It would've been so unfair... As I say, there just never seemed to be a right time to tell you, and... Tara, we love you so much. Both your father and I, we- we couldn't love you any more if I'd actually given birth to you myself. Please, please know that, honey."

"I understand," I dazedly replied.

"I know this must come as an awful shock to you, and I'm so-"

"Mom, I- it's okay. I... I understand."

Yes, it was most shocking to suddenly find out that I was adopted. Who wouldn't be shocked by that? But I understood the reasons for why they didn't tell me sooner and didn't blame them for that. They made the best decision they could in light of what they felt was best for me, and it's not like I could possibly have any complaints about them as parents, or about my childhood. But, at the moment, I was having difficulties voicing such sentiments because of the distraction of how in hell Donna could have ever possibly known I was adopted.

"Tara, I'm so glad to hear you say that, you just have no idea... Your father and I, we've debated and worried over this for years and, as much as I hate the way you found out just now, that we didn't come to you with it ourselves, you can't know the burden that's been lifted from my shoulders. But, I have to wonder... how did you come to ask?"

I was having trouble even concentrating on what she was saying, and a short pause went by before I could assemble some kind of answer.

"Well, I'd always kind of thought... you know. It's a bit hard to explain. I always had this idea that I was. Anyway, once I got here with some time on my hands, I started thinking and wondering without the distractions of everything else that was always going on in my life and... I don't know."

"Oh, honey, I'm so sorry you had to find out this way. If we could have told you about it face to face this Christmas instead of over the phone..."

"Mom, it's okay, really. But..."

"Yes?"

"Do you, um... do you know anything about my birth parents? About my biological mother?"

"No, I'm sorry. The only thing the agency told us was that your mother couldn't keep you. "Honey, if you want to search her out, I understand, and your father and I would do anything we could to help and support you, but you should know that it's sometimes very difficult for adopted children to find their biological parents, especially when they don't want to be found, and you should be prepared for disappointment."

"Okay. No, I was just kinda wondering is all, but thanks. Um... have you or Dad ever told anyone?"

"About your adoption?"

"Yes."

"Only your aunt Melody. Your father and I really wanted a child, but it turned out that I couldn't bear children and she was the one who'd actually first suggested that we adopt. Why do you ask? Did she-? Was it her who put questions into your mind?"

"No, Mom, I haven't seen her since I was fifteen and she's never said anything. I just... It makes me feel good that I'm not the last one to know. If you know what I mean."

"Well, yes, that's actually why we didn't tell anyone. We even took a seven month leave of absence just before we adopted you so nobody would ever know before we could tell you ourselves."

"Okay... Uh... if you don't mind, I'd like to get off the phone now. It's okay and everything, I'd just like some time to, um... process this?"

" ... I understand. But are you sure you're okay? Do you want to speak to your father first?"

"No, I'm good. I'll call again soon, I just need... you know."

"Yes, you need some time. I do understand."

"I love you, Mom. Please tell Dad I love him too, okay?"

"I will honey, and we both love you so much. We always have and we've always been so proud of our beautiful daughter. Please call us back as soon as you feel like you can, okay?"

"I promise."

After our final goodbyes, I broke the connection and dropped the phone on the bed in front of me, staring out my hotel room's window in blank shock before sinking down to the mattress to stare up at the ceiling.

Adopted. Adopted? Quite the contrary to what I'd explained to my mother, I had no idea, none at all and never would have guessed at such a thing. So how could Donna have known? Had my idiot Aunt Melody been running around blabbing about it? But, after only a moment's thought, I doubted this as any kind of likely way that Donna could have ever found out. My father's sister may have been an idiot, but she was never a gossip and was always very family loyal.

Rolling across the bed and to my feet, I quickly mixed a drink from the liquor and beverages that had been supplied in the room's mini-fridge, noting that my hands were still trembling, if only a little. I wasn't surprised. Between the episode with the thing in the Mission's basement, discovering the real Donna Liski and the fact that I was adopted, it had been one hell of a day for me. Taking a healthy gulp from my potent drink, I put the glass on the nightstand and threw myself down on the bed, tits up, to once again dial my phone.

"Are you checked into a hotel?" Donna answered, her mood seemingly stable.

"Yes, the Travelodge," I replied with a hollow tone.

"Good. Look, Tara... I'm sorry I got so upset with you, but... you were picking at something I usually don't like to even think about, much less talk about. It upsets me. Anyway, I didn't mean to take it out on you. You were only asking, and you couldn't have known... and you do deserve to know my real name, it's just difficult for me. I'm really sorry, sweetie pie. You know I love you."

"Yes, I love you too," I replied, feeling relief and affection for her while helplessly wondering if she'd only brainwashed me to feel that way about her.

"I know you're probably confused right now."

"That's putting it mildly," I said. "I just got off the phone with my mother, and... Donna, how did you know?"

" ... We'll talk about that. Soon. That, my real name and some other things, I promise, but not right now. What room are you in?"

"Four-O-eight."

"Okay, just stay there for a little while; I'm sending Donna and Roman over with a few things for you, and we'll talk a little bit tomorrow at work."

"Donna?"

"Yes?"

"Um... I'm not sure I can... go back to the Mission. What happened there today was really scary."

"I know, sweetie pie, but I'll be there with you. It'll be okay. Everything will be okay. You'll see."

"Alright."

"I've got to go now, but we'll see each other tomorrow morning, nine o'clock. Right?"

"Right, I said."

"And Tara?"

"Yes?"

"Eat something. You're starting to lose weight because you're drinking too much and not eating."

" ... Okay."

"I mean it. There's a nice restaurant there, so take advantage of it."

"I will."

She hung up the phone without saying goodbye, leaving me with no answers, and I couldn't help snickering when I realized that I'd totally forgotten to find out about her visit with the Major on Friday.

Only the day before, the most pressing issues of my life were Major Hurdle and my career. Now my life seemed completely upside down, and I was having trouble even figuring out which way was up, never mind getting it turned that way. Between all the events of just that day, I couldn't even begin to piece together a framework from the scattered puzzle pieces of my life. There was, however, one piece of the puzzle that left no doubt about where it belonged. That piece was Donna Liski, or whatever her name was, and she was certainly at the center of everything.

It had become quite difficult to think of her as my assistant. She'd said that she was my best friend, my only friend, and that was true. Not only was this true, but it was also true that I loved her, valued her, even needed her, this woman who thought nothing of controlling others to satisfy her whims, enjoyed hitting dogs with her car so that they could take a while to suffer before dying. What did that say of me?

I sat up long enough for another sip from my glass, then fell back to the mattress, thinking while I began idly playing with my nipples through my top.

She was even concerned that I'd been losing weight and that I'd been drinking too much and, even though she'd lost her patience with me on a couple of occasions, I'd never felt in the least bit threatened by her, even on that day. In an odd way, Donna was much more like a mother than a friend, and this wasn't the first time I'd thought of her in that sense.

Right from the beginning, she'd been taking care of me, her interest and involvement in my life increasingly parental in terms of how she was there for me. True, I couldn't imagine being spooned by my actual mother as she fingered my clitoris until I came but, even in doing this, in the way she did it, Donna showed how she cared for me in that way. I was more than a lover to her. She was giving me what I needed.