Mind's Eye (Mind's Eye, #1)

by Rebecca A. Rogers

After the celebration on Cyeor, I returned home, landing on my squeaky mattress with a bounce. Immediately, the walls distorted and blurred. My brain felt like it was running in circles inside my skull. I covered my eyes, opened them seconds later, and, to my disappointment, nothing changed. What the hell was going on? I’d never had a reaction after leaving one of my dream worlds. Then again, I never visited for very long. Maybe the battle, annihilating the Dreds, and the subsequent party was too much.

  I groaned. How long would this setback last? My head throbbed, like I had a massive hangover, and I was sore from the battle with Üroth. The cut on my arm stopped bleeding when Borphan mended it at the tavern, after the weird dude left, but I had hoped to clean it when I came home. Of course, now I was apparently screwed, so in an attempt to hide the injury, I slipped on a jacket hanging over the edge of my daybed. Whatever was happening to me wasn’t normal. Sleep would make me feel better, and maybe my current dilemma would be gone by the time I woke. But until then, I’d have to settle for some food in my stomach, and a shower to wash off the sand and sweat.

  Reluctantly sliding off my bed, I reached out and patted the walls, finding my way to the bathroom. The silver faucet gleamed brighter than anything else, but it looked like it was covered in a murky film. I twisted the knob and splashed cold water on my face a few times. That didn’t help.

  Okay, maybe a nice, hot shower and fast food were out of the question—at least until I figured out what was going on. Did this have something to do with that freaky-but-hot guy randomly appearing in my imagination? What’s with the secretive society hell bent on ridding people like me of their abilities? That was some crazy nonsense. But still not as crazy as knowing there were others like me, and I wasn’t alone.

  Somewhere in my room, my phone rang. Like I was capable of finding it during this crisis. It was probably Liz or Dee; it wasn’t like anyone else called me.

  The front door creaked open. Back straightened, I kept my ears alert for any signs of an intruder. Tabitha left earlier, didn’t she? I figured she’d be gone for the night. Oh, my God. What if it was that crazy dude from my imagination? What if he changed his mind and decided to kidnap me while I couldn’t see? Losing my eyesight could’ve been his fault. It could’ve been a ruse, a ploy. A diversion.

  “Kearly?”

  Oh, never mind. It was my mom.

  “You awake?” Her voice amplified the closer she got to my door. “I’ve gotta work tonight at Bobby’s, so I need you to run by David’s and pick up some money for me.”

  Still on that David kick? I sighed pretty loudly. “I’m not feeling well.”

  She was silent for about two-point-five seconds before nearly taking my door off its hinges.

  “I ask you to do one damn thing for me and you can’t even do that? Don’t expect me to do any favors for you in the future.” She huffed and pivoted on her heel.

  “Mom! What part of ‘I’m not feeling well’ do you not understand? Seriously, I feel like shit.”

  “Then go to a doctor,” she said, wandering off.

  Exhausted, I replied, “I can’t. There’s no way I can drive right now.”

  She poked her head inside my doorframe. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “I can’t even see you at the moment, so there’s no chance whatsoever I’m getting behind the wheel. I’d probably kill myself and a few other people along the way.”

  “You drunk?”

  Oh, please. “No, Mom, that’s your hobby, not mine.”

  There were some moments in my life I wanted to rewind and tape over. There were always words said that I wished I could snatch out of the air before they made contact with a person’s ears. This particular instance was both rolled into one.

  “I didn’t mean—”

  Tabitha hastily retorted, “Save it. I’ll just run by David’s myself.”

  She didn’t stomp off like usual. Her keys jingled, and the front door quietly shut behind her when she exited. I listened to her car rev to life in the driveway, the gravel crunching underneath her tires as she left.

  Shit. What had I done? Not only had I pissed my mom off, but I pissed off some secret organization, as well. In one day. How was that even possible?

  Clink.

  Clink. Clink. Clink.

  Ugh. Stupid birds. They were always pecking at our gutters. I grabbed my pillow and used it to cover my head. I just wasn’t in the mood.

  Boom. Thump, thump, thump, thump, thump.

  I bolted upright, tossing the pillow aside. What in the name of all things holy was that? It came very close to sounding like something—or someone—jumped on top of our roof and ran.

  Using my hands to locate the walls leading to the hallway, I waited for several minutes outside my bedroom—in case I heard strange noises again—then ambled toward the kitchen. Colors and shapes gradually came into focus as I neared the cutlery block and grabbed the largest knife I could find. For protection, of course. Finally, my eyesight is returning! I’d try to remind myself later not to visit my dreamscapes for lengthy intervals. Even though I never had any side effects, it was obvious something went horribly wrong this last time.

  And it had been my last time, if that strange, secret-society messenger had anything to say about it.

  Oh, my God. What if he was the person on the roof? What if I wasn’t going crazy and he was playing games with me?

  I plopped down on the worn-out couch and tightly held onto the knife, which stuck straight up. My ears strained, listening for any thud, or crash, or bang coming from the rooftop. The ice machine decided to dump ice cubes into the tray at that exact moment, and I jumped so hard I nearly sliced my boob. Closing my eyes, I took deep, calming breaths, reminding myself that there was nothing to worry about—except that I’d lose my imagination if that guy caught me during one of my disappearing acts. No big deal, right?

  Wrong.

  I was doomed. My imaginary friends were the closest thing to family I had, other than Liz and Dee. And really, that might’ve been why I vanished into these worlds so often; those people cared about me. I’d get to play the awesome hero, or battle fierce warriors, or win an entire war. My fake friends rarely questioned anything I said or did. They didn’t use me to get money from their boyfriend’s house. They didn’t call me to hang out when their first option wasn’t available. No, I was somebody in my fantasies.

  The doorknob began to jiggle, and I ran into the kitchen, hiding behind the counter. Whoever this person was, I hoped they didn’t have a weapon bigger than mine. I wanted to actually be able to defend myself, not bring a knife to a gun fight.

  The door swung open, creaking so loudly it sounded like a pig squealing. I squeezed my eyes shut and clenched the knife’s handle tighter. My insides were a mess, all twisted and shaky. I licked my lips, opened my eyes, and slowly rose to my feet.

  “Mom?” I asked, in disbelief more than anything else.

  She narrowed her eyes. “What the hell are you doing down there?” Poking her head over the countertop, she stared at the knife. “What is that for?”

  “I-I thought somebody was trying to break in.”

  Her eyes nearly rolled into the back of their sockets. “Shit. You really are sick. Didn’t you hear my keys? If I was an intruder, I’d bust the window out, not take my sweet time unlocking a door.”

  “Oh.” I slid the knife back into the cutlery block. “What are you doing here, then? I thought you had to work.”

  She lifted her cigarette box. “Forgot these.” We stood there for a few awkward seconds, her gaze never leaving me. She asked, “Are you miraculously healed now?”

  Great. She most likely thought I lied to her so I wouldn’t have to go to David’s.

  “I’m better, but not one hundred percent just yet.”

  She lit a cig. “Whatever.”

  In all honesty, she was probably still hurt about what I said earlier. I’d apologize tomorrow, after both of our heads had cleared, and after I got through today.
She left without another word, and I returned to my room, feeling like a complete idiot. Who was I kidding? It was probably a stupid squirrel making all that noise on the roof.

  Now that my eyesight had returned, I could check my phone, see if Liz or Dee left me any text messages. There was one missed call, and it was an unknown number. I could return the call and find out who it was, but they didn’t leave a voicemail, so it didn’t seem that important…and it was one less thing I had to worry about amid my current sea of troubles.

  Thump, thump, thump, thump, thump.

  My limbs, my eyelids—nothing moved. There was a slow flush invading my skin, and it paralyzed me. Fear. That was the word for this feeling. Unable to budge, not knowing what to do next, thoughts scattering like roaches when a light switch was flipped on. Did I stand a chance of running to the kitchen in time to grab a knife? Maybe. But if my mom was correct, and there’s a person on my roof who could break in, then I should just bust out my window screen and run. If I was being honest with myself, though, I didn’t stand a chance.

  But the idea of scrambling to get away from an intruder wasn’t promising, either. What if they could easily flee the rooftop and come after me? I didn’t know if I could get to my car in time, and I could barely jog without getting winded, let alone sprint. And calling the cops? Wasn’t gonna happen. The moment they stepped foot inside this trailer and saw the empty beer cans and bottles, cigarette butts and ashes, no food in the fridge, and a mom who wasn’t present, I’d be in the back of the next cruiser, on my way to Child Protective Serves.

  That only left one option…

  Returning to the kitchen, I snatched the knife and creeped down the hallway, to my room. Locking my bedroom door, I grabbed my cell phone and car keys, silenced my phone, and then stuffed both items into my jeans pockets. I hid inside my closet, burying underneath piles of T-shirts, pants, and shoes.

  This is going to be the longest night of my life.

  6