The Consequences of Intervening

Have you ever been in love? I used to think I had been back in school. Back when relationships started in tutor and were over by fifth period. When you agreed to label someone your partner by ticking a box on a scrunched up piece of paper, that soon got passed around the class as kids oo'd and aa'd in unison, like something out of Despicable Me.

I was adamant, for years, that I was in love with my first girlfriend, Jessi Stuart. Her and I dated for a whole six months, which was basically a decade back when we were 15. We would walk to school together, hold each others hands and even shared a smooch behind the bike shed. Our romance came to an end one lunchtime when she decided to go sit with the boys from the rugby team instead of me. She started dating their flanker the next period.

In the following years, I came to the conclusion that casual dating was more my scene and chose to enjoy the company of lovely ladies for a night or two, tops. I convinced myself that I just wasn't built for a long-term relationship and they were something I wouldn't venture into again until my late 20s. That all changed when I met Mia.

The phrase 'my other half' never made sense to me. I thought that anyone who said they couldn't survive without their partner was nothing more than a hypochondriac with serious separation anxiety. But when I met Mia, I finally understood.

It was Halloween night in 2016 when we first met. I dressed up as the Joker and she was Harley Quinn. Naturally, we spent the night by each others side playing out scenes from Suicide Squad; she made fun of my impersonation of Jared Leto, while I laughed over her ditsy manic character. Her laugh was infectious, her humour was unrivalled and her beauty was breath taking. She was down to earth, modest and unapologetically her wonderfully weird self. By the end of the night, we had booked in our first date for the following day. From then on out, we were besotted with each other.

On March 8th 2017, I asked her to marry me. Everyone in our lives thought we were crazy, telling us that the honeymoon period would soon end and we'd be at each others throats; but we knew they were wrong. We planned our wedding for that Summer, inviting all of our close friends and family to come join us at the Botanical Gardens on June 21st. One by one the RSVPs rolled in, but I couldn't help but notice Mia's parents never responded. When I asked her to send them a reminder, she broke down and told me she hadn’t invited them, reciting the traumas of her childhood that had left her scarred to this day.

When she told me about the details of what she had been put through, I felt a pain I had never experienced before. I could feel my heart bleeding as frustration overwhelmed me. I was prepared to go to the ends of the earth to try heal her broken heart and fill the void that they had left. So that is what I did.

I had read the articles about the portals upstate, a work in progress set up by the New York Academy of Sciences. They were looking for human guinea pigs to test out their invention to see if it worked. Without hesitation, I signed myself up. They handed me a binder filled with the risks and potential health issues, asking me to take a few days to read over them carefully before making my decision. Wanting to put the past right as soon as I could, I spent the best part of 3 minutes flicking through the pages, scanning past the titles and their subheadings before signing my name at the bottom.

In the weeks leading up to my trial, I began gathering information on where Mia had lived when she was younger, where her parents had worked and the names of any close family friends. She took me on a tour of her past life through the photos she kept beneath the bed and I memorised each one, taking a particular focus on the portrait of her father.

On the morning of my trial, I told Mia I had a customer meeting that would run late; she gave me a kiss and off I went. Filled with adrenaline, rage and nerves, I drove myself upstate to the academy. When I arrived, I was greeted by Charles Mallett, the man who had designed and created the portals.

Charles took me into a quiet room and examined me. He asked about my life, my health and my reasoning behind agreeing to the trials. I had to bend the truth a little, telling him that the home I wished to visit wasn't Mia's, but my own; and that I wanted nothing more than to revisit a fond memory.

He told me that my job was simple: go to my desired location, document my findings, report any anomalies and then return. I was not to engage with anyone or anything, a point he stressed many times. I nodded along, knowing in the back of my mind that I was on a mission to set Mia's past right.

After a lengthy conversation that I paid little attention to, Charles guided me over to his portal. It was a magnificent glowing vortex of light, that resembled a standing body of water beneath the aurora.

"Remember, do not engage with anything," Charles repeated. "You do not want to deal with the consequences of intervening." he said sternly. I nodded slowly as I stared into the portal, fascinated by the swirling colours and patterns. I raised my arm up towards the sea of lights and watched as the vertical wall of water reached out to me, swallowing my hand in a cool blanket of luminescent liquid.

In what felt like a blink of an eye, I was standing in Mia's home town back in Ohio, in the year 1994. I slowly made my way up to her front door, stopping in my tracks at the sight of howling silhouettes through the living room window. Overwhelmed by curiosity, I edged my way towards the building, listening intently to the foul words being shouted from within.

I stood against the house's cold frame and watched eagerly through the window, waiting for Mia's parents to surface. In time, I saw them appear.

Her mother stood cowardly by the door as her fathers face distorted in anger. I could see young Mia hiding behind the coach as her father roared, tears rolling down her face as she cradled her knees. I froze as I watched him raise his hand at her mother and hurl himself at his daughter. Her mother pulled at his shirt, screaming for him to stop, before he swung around and pushed her to the ground. He stood above her, fuelled by anger as he raged.

I watched him as he made his way down the hallway, laced up his boots and reached for his coat. His wife fell to her knees and begged him to stay, but he continued to make his way to the front door.

I could hear Charles' voice playing over and over in my head, as I made my way towards him. His thick accent rang in my ear as I lifted a rock from the flower bed. I could feel his stern glare on me as I lifted my arm, ready to free young Mia and her mother from years of pain.

As soon as the screen door slammed shut behind him, I hurled the rock down, bringing him to the ground in one foul swoop. He laid there unconscious, as a pool of blood formed above his head. Thick crimson liquid welled up against the edge of the door frame as I found myself struggling for breath. "Henry?" I heard her mother call from inside the house, concern evident in her voice.

I ran as fast as I could away from the house, stumbling down their driveway in sheer panic. "Henry?!" Her mother repeated, mere moments before she saw him laying on the ground. She dropped to her knees and let out a blood curdling scream that made me sick to my stomach. "He deserved it." I told myself, as I felt my stomach flip.

I raced towards the portal as I heard young Mia howl. "He deserved it." I repeated, as I saw the dim glow appear from around the edge of a large tree. I felt my legs buckle beneath me as I made my way through to the other side, where I was greeted by Charles and his colleagues. He stared down at me, watching as I trembled.

"Mark -" he whispered in dread. "Mark, what have you done?"

I stared at him blankly as I tried to calm my breathing. "I'm not ready for this.” I muttered under my breath. “I saw people I don't want to see." I insisted.

"Mark." he scowled, raising his voice as his eyes narrowed.

"I promise. I just wasn't ready to see history repeat itself." I assured him.

After much deliberation, Charles let me go home, telling me that my involvement with the trial was over. That night, I drove myself back to my apartment, staring blankly at the road ahead as the blurred white markings disappeared beneath me.

I stood outside my front door for the best part of an hour, thinking about what was waiting for me on the other side. Would Mia be happy, freed from a prolonged life of abuse? Or would she be traumatised over the murder of her father, that took place outside her very home? My heart raced as I reached for the handle, turning it slowly until finally it opened with a click.

I stared into my empty home as my heart began to crumble. The belongings Mia had brought from her home had vanished. The furnishings we brought together were no where to be seen. The photos we had once hung on the wall in celebration of our engagement, had been replaced by an obnoxiously large painting. Every sign of our life together had disappeared in a matter of hours.

I ran to the phone and called her number, but I was greeted by someone else's voicemail. I searched for the phone book containing her friends details, but it was no where to be found. I trolled through the internet in search of her, but she was a ghost.

In the weeks that came, I drove to Ohio, Marietta, back to her family home. I fell to my knees when I saw the discoloured wooden panels beneath the front door, where I was then greeted by a young family. They had no knowledge on Mia or her mother, claiming that the house had been in their family for years.

My last hope was her mothers old place of work. When I questioned them about her whereabouts, I was greeted by an elderly woman who worked within their HR team. She told me that many years ago, back in 1994, Mia's mother had suffered a mental breakdown after the loss of her husband.

I stood in shock, frozen in a state of anguish and despair. "What about her daughter?" I stuttered.

"In the system." she whispered. "No one has seen or heard from her since."

The room began to spin as I felt my heart drop to the pit of my stomach. Life as I knew it had been overwritten. My dear beloved Mia, was somewhere in the world on a different timeline; with no idea who I was.