My name is Janice Doe, but you can call me Janie. I am a 27-year-old woman. I have one older brother named Cleatus Fernsby; he is 41 years old now; we share a father but have different mothers. In 2011, I decided to contact Cleatus to get our fathers medical history. I was raised by my very, very, Christian-catholic helicopter, home-body mother. My father passed when I was 5 years old unexpectedly, my brother (19 at the time) was declared missing and a runaway. I did not have any type of relationship with Cleatus growing up. He didn’t respond for months to messages, emails, and letters to numbers and addresses I could find for him or someone with his age and name. Much like a blind shot in the dark.
It wasn’t until my 18th birthday, 9 years ago (2013). In the letter he sent me, Cleatus said he wanted to meet up with me, and that he has been living off the grid for some time after he disappeared at age 16 to find his mother, he sent a recent enough dated photograph of himself in the wild with the letter. I was so excited to receive that letter that I instantly wrote him back to the return address. I asked him where, when and how we will meet up.
After I sent that I didn’t hear till January three years later after my 21st birthday. Cleatus let me know where his next destination was on his “off the grid life”, in coordinates that I had no clue to understanding, as they weren’t anywhere on land but in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. I went to the closest town I could get to, to see if he was there or if I could find any clue to where he was. I was doing the work of a private investigator.
When I found him, we went to where we could talk without distractions as we had been on our own life paths till now. Cleatus explained that he had left in search of his mother and when he found her, she rejected him, she said some of the crudest things you could say to your 16-year-old son you abandoned. I sat and listened in horror as he explained how he had no money, so he took advantage of his outside skills and has been living like that since. Living off the land and doing odd jobs for very little money.
Cleatus explained that he wasn’t in the sanest in the mental department. He said he has lapse of time loss where he doesn’t remember what happened from hours to months at a time. He told me these lapses of memory are hereditary from our father, they started the day of his 24th birthday. Cleatus’s birthday is June 24th, it was his “golden” birthday. He added that the lapses in memory were in every generation on our paternal side and 100% hereditary. My 22nd birthday is coming up fast I told him with a slight pause, then told him it was my “golden” birthday. We ended up talking for about 6 hours without realizing how much time went by.
As we departed, we decided it would be best if we don’t have contact anymore. I ended my search by returning home, exhausted, drained and disappointed that I didn’t learn much about our father. I learned a lot about Cleatus and his adventures, and he learned about me and mine. He knew my address as it was on the envelope, I sent the letters in.
The next few weeks went by as a blur. It was the day before my 22nd birthday that Cleatus showed up on my front porch at 5pm sharp, in a hysteria and manic like frenzy. He said he needed help as he pushed pass me and walked into my house. I started asking him questions along the lines of “What do you need help with? How can I help you?” He didn’t answer any of my questions, he just walked around looking at everything I owned like he was inspecting for insects, mumbling unable to talk loud enough for me to understand. After about 30 minutes I asked what he wanted for dinner, all he said was food.
As I was leaving to pick up the entrées I ordered for us, I felt a sharp prick into my neck then the room started swirl and after a minute, everything went black. I woke up in my dining room confused, foggy, completely strapped down to the table in an incredible amount of pain. I called out for Cleatus, but all I got was silence in return. I could smell and hear that something was cooking but I couldn’t see what it was as my head was strapped down.
After what felt like an eternity of crying and calling for my brother, all I could think was “Why me? What is going on? Why am I strapped down to the table? Why does everything hurt?” As Cleatus walked in, I could hear a series of mixed voices, men and women including Cleatus. I listened as they walked into the kitchen, talking about their favorite hobby. They called it “taste testing”. Out of my peripheral vision, I could see them lite red candles, they placed them methodically around my dining room. I started crying when Cleatus walked up to me, he put his mouth next to my ear and whispered, “let’s do some taste testing” then I felt the prick in my neck again, the room swirled, and everything went black.
I slowly came to in what I thought was my bedroom. I quickly came to realize it was not my room, but a dimly lit, crude remake of my room. I looked around to see if I could find a door, my vision felt so weak as if I haven’t opened my eyes in years. When I finally found a light switch, I turned it on to reveal the crude, nasty old mattress, and gross room I’ve been locked in. When I looked at myself in the mirror, I was only a skeletal resemblance of who I once was. I looked as if I was only being fed every 40 days, only little to no food, scraps. The calendar said it was January 22nd, 2020. My birthday.
The months went by so quickly because of Cleatus “taste testing” with me, I eventually stopped resisting and gained his trust that way. He started treating me better when my periods stopped in May, he asked me to pee in a cup one day out of the blue. Since then, my belly has gotten bigger. I understand what is happening with my body, and so does Cleatus, and he said it happened to me before almost 14 years ago. He introduced me to our 13-year-old son, James, a few months ago. I don’t remember much from the gaps in time except the waves extreme pain and lots of water.
Cleatus revealed to me in a drunken state before “taste testing” me one night, that him and I are not actually siblings. He also revealed that his names not Cleatus Fernsby, it is Jack Trems. He confessed that he hurt my actual brother in front of a hand full of people that were trying to initiate him into their “club” as he put it. They just stood and did nothing.
We leave tonight, wish James and I luck. I can’t do this anymore, nothing about my life adds up. I pray to my mother’s god; I find balance and peace soon. If you are wondering how I posted this, I used my sons home-school computer.