The Mafia Don’s little Con Artist

15 - Unthinkable

After the hospital trip, Aleks was true to his word and moved me, and all of my things, into a massive estate home. Liz decided she wanted to stay in the city, so he’s allowing her to live in the penthouse apartment I previously was in. He says it’s a safer and more secure location for her than our old rundown place. She’s tied to me, and I’m tied to Aleks now..which means we both aren’t safe.

I received a phone call from Dr. Whitlock today. She had results from tests that Liz and I underwent at the hospital, but felt it would be best to deliver them in person.

Liz, nor myself, were born sick.

I was in and out of foster homes my entire childhood, but the very first one I can recall was the best. The home was beautiful, the couple that cared for me were kind and overly doted on me and the other children there. We had private tutors and a large yard. It was the closest thing to a real home Ive ever experienced. And that’s where Liz and I met. She was brought into the home at just 3 years old, but unfortunately neither of us got to stay there for much longer.

One night, the police arrived banging on the doors and making demands, but I couldn’t understand them. They forced their way in and took all of the children away. Liz and I were lucky enough to be taken to the same new ‘home’, but this one was a far cry from the last.

We moved homes 2-4 time each year after that, and each placement was worse than the last- neglectful caregivers, troubled kids, and poor living conditions.

Our health didn’t start to decline until the year I turned 10, and Liz turned 8, however. That year, we were placed in a group home located in south Florida. It was disgusting and the “caregivers” were abhorrent.

Liz and I both became extremely weak, and developed several strange symptoms that could never be attributed to any particular illness. A cough would turn into borderline pneumonia. Food would make us sick, and we both lost too much weight. That’s also that place where I received my scars. We spent 7 months in that hell hole, before finally running away, but it was too late.

Liz and I kept getting more and more sick. Every doctor we saw was dumbfounded, or threatened to turn us back over to CPS. We relied on steroids and breathing treatments, and Liz required an inhaler for 2 years. No matter what we did, our lungs ached to breathe, our stomachs rejected food, and we doubled over in pain more often than not.

I hadn’t expected too much from seeing Dr. Whitlock at first, but the tests and examinations she ordered were far more in depth and detailed than anything Liz and I had experienced before.

Blood samples, heart monitors, vision tests, MRI’s- nothing was spared.

This doctor genuinely seemed eager and determined to figure out what was causing my sister and I so much turmoil.

“Ms. Collins, there’s no easy way to say this so.. after everything we did to examine your bodies..there are a few theories I have to explain you girls’ health issues.” Dr. Whitlock began. “There is severe damage that has been done to your internal organs. Nearly every part of your bodies were seemingly attacked..aside from the external wounds on your back Ms. Sophia.”

“Do you have any idea what caused the internal damage?” I begged for an answer, I couldn’t handle another clueless white coat.

“Yes.” The Doctor inhales and exhales before stating, “I believe you both were poisoned with various substances, and over a long period of time.”

“What?” Liz said. “How could that be? Wouldn’t we know we were being poisoned?”

“Not if you were very young. And if the substance was in a small enough dose, it could go undetected in a typical tox-screening for some time. Ladies, I’ve seen this type of damage done to stomachs, lungs and esophagus’ before..with victims who’ve ingested antifreeze and arsenic.”

Our jaws drop. With our stunned silence, the doctor proceeds.

“Your history of chest/stomach pains, nausea and vomiting, troubles breathing, keeping food down- it all leads me to the same conclusion: someone was trying very hard to end your lives.”

My sister and I share a look of disbelief, pain and also gratitude that neither of us succumbed to these attempts on our life.

“Do you girls’ have any idea how or when this could have happened?”

We explained our 7 month placement in Florida. What we had assumed was bad cooking or expired ingredients was actually tainted food. Poisoned food.

“Fortunately, you got away, and whoever was doing this to you wasn’t very good at it. I’ve ruled out cancer for you both, for now. Arsenic exposure, over a long period like this, can result in so many types of cancer: skin, bladder and even blood, it’s a miracle you’ve been sparred.” She seems relieved herself. As if our lives were now connected to her own.

“However, since you’re both experiencing pain and discomfort regularly, it’s no surprise that you didn’t come away from this experience completely unscathed. I recommend surgery to repair some of the lining damage, regular breathing treatments, antibiotics and an inhaler for you both.

An inhaler might be a bit difficult to hide from Aleks, but it seems like everything else is doable. Well, aside from the surgery I may need..that’s gunna speed up the timeline of me telling him the truth about my health a bit.

Although it was nice to finally have some answers, I still couldn’t believe that they tried to kill us.

“They” being Mark and Joann, the couple who we lived with for 7 months.

I tried to think back, trying to remember any significant details of that time that might explain why they would have done that to us. Mark and Joann were horrible awful people, and they did less than the bare minimum to care for Liz and I, so it’s not entirely unthinkable that they’d try to actually end our lives.

The thing I couldn’t understand was, why?