The X Factor

by Bella Street

  Eva lifted her chin. “We're from Malheur. Why?”

  Seffy went very still—even her heart paused a beat. “When was that?”

  Cynthia tossed her head. “We left after seventh grade. Thank God, because that town was full of serious losers.”

  “You both moved at the same time?”

  “Duh. We're cousins. When my mom decided to move to Los Angeles, her mom followed. I guess a freak like you wouldn't understand family bonds.”

  Seffy stared down a tunnel into her past that was blurred and dim, not really registering Cynthia's insult. “Where did you go to school?”

  “Uh, the only school was Malheur for elementary and junior high. High schoolers had to go outside the county.”

  “What's this about?” Eva said, her tone bored.

  Seffy mentally shook away the clingy webbing of her memories. “I...just think it's interesting that we're all from Montana. I mean, most of us. Do you know if Jared is? Or if Clay was?”

  They shook their heads in unison, looking mulish.

  Seffy slowly got to her feet, feeling a little dazed. “Thanks,” she said and headed back to her room.

  When she arrived, she spread out on the bed and looked at the ceiling, wondering about the significance that Cynthia and Eva had been at her same school. At the same time. She didn't remember the girls by their names, or girls who looked like them for that matter.

  What was the connection?

  Chapter Nineteen

  Seffy watched in horror as the mallet swung again. Bang bang bang. Every blow was excruciating, splitting her ribs apart, tearing her muscles. The Haz-Mat team kept telling her to be still. The last blow shattered her spine in an explosion of pain and white light. Suddenly she looked down and saw herself on a broad square table, her arms and legs wide—with a giant push pin stabbed through her middle—like a butterfly on a specimen card.

  “Sef.”

  She gasped and lurched into a sitting position, grabbing her middle. “Get it out!”

  Trent entered her periphery. “Get what out?”

  Seffy looked at him for several moments and finally realized she'd had another nightmare. She surveyed the room as her head cleared, coming to the conclusion she was in her room, on her bed, and nothing like a butterfly. “God, I hate my dreams.”

  “Was it a bad one?”

  She stared at him, exhaustion like lead in her bones. “They're all bad.”

  “Well, then it's a good thing I woke you up. I knocked for a while but you didn't answer, so I just came in.”

  Seffy released a shaky breath and tried to organize her thoughts. “Why are you here, Trent?”

  His smile was charming. “To keep you company of course.”

  Flopping back onto her pillow, she rubbed her face. “That's the best you got?”

  “Well, it's getting late, and I thought you might want a buddy to keep the bad guys at bay.”

  She turned her head and looked at the clock. It was ten in the evening. “I don't get it. I sleep all the time and yet I never have any energy.”

  “I'm sure you're still in recovery mode. Think about what you've gone through, Seffy. You really should be dead.”

  She scrunched her nose. “I guess.” Suddenly she was glad for his company. Maybe he could keep her from thinking about the disturbing revelations from Cynthia and Eva. Seffy sat up. “Did you bring cards?”

  He held up a pack. “Do you want to go back to my place?”

  She suppressed a smile. It sounded so wrong. “Sure.”

  Once they were settled on his couch, Trent dealt the cards. She picked up her hand, but the numbers ran together. What were the odds that the girls were at her junior high the same time she was? How was it she didn't recognize them? It had been a small school—surely she would've remembered something.

  “You know, if we were playing strip poker, you'd be so naked, you'd be down to your skeleton by now.”

  Seffy smiled ruefully and dropped her cards face down on the couch. “Sorry. I guess I'm having a hard time concentrating.”

  “What are you thinking about? Us?”

  “Um, no.”

  “Gareth?”

  It was preferable to talking about the two girls. “Maybe.”

  “That's why I had the idea for drinks last night. I thought if I got you liquored up, you'd finally tell me some things I want to know.”

  “That's totally lame.”

  “Okay, so tell me now while you're not under the influence.”

  Actually I wouldn't mind a little influence right now. “What do you want to know?”

  “What's really with you and Gareth? There had to be something going on there before Verity came into the picture.”

  She sighed. “Why do you care?”

  “Maybe I'm trying to figure out why you're so attracted to a metrosexual like him when you have a tough yet tender guy right here for the asking.”

  Seffy studied the pattern on the back of the cards. “We've all been close for years and years.”

  “You were childhood friends. I get it. But there's more than that.”

  “Maybe there isn't. Maybe there was the possibility of more and now it's gone.”

  Trent regarded her for a moment. “Are you in love with him?”

  She licked her lips. “Why are you so fixated on Gareth?”

  “Why are you?”

  Seffy gave a harsh laugh. “Why wouldn't I be? He's kind, protective, gorgeous, and I trust him. He's a nice guy.”

  “Are you inferring that I'm not?”

  “I know you're not.” She shook her head. “Look, I know the bad boy thing works for some, but not for me. No matter how well they treat you, there's always an angle. Who has time for that? You're all just too high-maintenance.”

  “So you're lumping me in with all bad boys?”

  “Duh.” She watched the flickering emotions across his face. “You know, you asked me why I watch those sex soaps. It's so I can study every trick, every ploy, every lie guys use so I don't have to be a victim of it.”

  Trent regarded her, his gray eyes unnerving. “It's because you already have been a victim, isn't it?”

  Her face heated. Was she that obvious? And what did it mean that she'd failed to avoid victimization despite her best intentions? “Genius.”

  He flinched at her sarcastic tone. “So the way you deal is to stay with someone safe.”

  Seffy didn't miss his sneer. “And gorgeous.”

  “So what happens when Gareth moves on to someone else? Where do you go?”

  “I don't need to 'go' anywhere. I don't need a man in my life every second.”

  “You just want one.”

  She snorted. “And you don't want someone? You know, everyone likes to act all independent, but in the end everything is about finding someone special—fashion, clubs, music, TV, everything. And yet when a person does find that significant other, everyone thinks oh, they've settled, that the party is over, that they'll never experience the world or play the field again.”

  “Maybe some people like the merry-go-round best.”

  “Well, I don't. I'm not like that. I have a history with Gareth that means something and I'm not just going to throw it away because he's suddenly acting weird. I'm going to find out what's wrong and try to make it right.”

  Trent was silent for several minutes. “And what happens if you try and it still doesn't work out?”

  “Then it doesn't, but I will know that I did everything I could; that I wasn't thoughtless or flippant with someone else's affections.” Ugh, did everything she said have to feel like hypocrisy? She stood, noticing his dark expression. “This was a great idea, Trent. This little talk has really helped me figure some things out.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “Back to my room.”

  “To do what?”

  “I don't know. Not play cards, at any rate.”

  “But you'll come back here tonight to stay.”

  She shook her hea
d. “That won't be necessary.”

  Trent set his cards down and stood. “It's absolutely necessary. What if something bad happens tonight?”

  “Let's face it. I probably just had a bad dream last time.”

  “You don't believe that.”

  Seffy firmed her lips. “Regardless, I'll be sleeping in my room tonight. I do appreciate all you've done for me, but that's the end of it.”

  He moved to touch her shoulder, but she angled away. Before the hurt in his eyes could affect her, she turned and went back to her room.

  ***

  Trent watched Seffy sleep. He'd waited until she'd gone to bed, then slipped into her room via the closet door. He assumed it was an oversight that she'd forgotten to lock it. Even if she had, he would've found a way in. Like hell was he going to let her sleep alone.

  His eyelids drooped. He shifted in the chair next to the bed, glad for the discomfort that helped keep him awake. He checked his watch. It'd been four hours since she'd gone to bed, which made it nearly three in the morning. In two hours he'd feel comfortable going back to his own room.

  Trent thought about their last conversation but every time his thoughts started in that direction he got mad. Maybe mad would keep him lucid. He inhaled deeply and forced his eyes open. A sliver of light from the bathroom illuminated part of Seffy's face. So far her sleep had been untroubled. He liked to think it was because of his presence. Maybe somehow she knew he was there and could rest easy.

  Yeah. He liked that theory.

  The silence of the room, aside from her light breathing, lulled him. A glance at his watch showed that it was 2:58. He looked down at the book in his hands...some thriller novel he'd found in one of the rooms. Although he'd read most of it, he couldn't tell what it was about. All the words had blurred together in his mind. Trent heard the book hit the floor, but he couldn't find the energy to pick it up. He'd get it in a minute.

  Any minute now.

  ***

  She couldn't stand it—couldn't leave it like this. Seffy got up from bed and rubbed her face. For days she'd been consumed with her last conversation with Gareth. If she could call it a conversation. It had felt a hell of a lot like a dismissal. His reaction just didn't fit. Then again, nothing in her life fit at the moment. But Gareth was never mean. Ever.

  Sure, she annoyed him now and then, but there was always an undercurrent of affection. She must've misunderstood his attitude earlier, and her craven response had wasted so much time. All it would take was a quick chat to clear the air. Anyway, he might still be up watching movies.

  Marshaling her nerve, she left her room and walked to his door. The hallway was dim, emergency lights casting a weak shine on the linoleum tiles. Instead of knocking, she twisted his doorknob, relieved it was unlocked.

  His room was cast in shadow. Moonlight streamed in from an upper window. Seffy stared at it for a moment before walking toward the bed. Gareth lay tangled in the blankets wearing only a pair of pajama bottoms. The shadows of his face were more pronounced, his lashes making a large sweep above his cheekbones. He looked peaceful in sleep. Maybe he would forget his anger with her after he'd rested.

  Maybe they could go back to the way things were. Or some semblance of it.

  Seffy reached out to his arm. She was so needful of his touch, she'd surely die if he didn't gather her into his arms and press his face into her hair. His skin was warm. Seffy's heart lodged in her throat as she ran her fingers along his shoulder.

  I'm coming apart at the seams, Gareth. I just need you to hold me together, just like you always have. Please wake up.

  Please.

  Gareth's eyes snapped open. Seffy's hand froze.

  His burning gaze pierced hers, his face twisting in fury. “What the hell are you doing in my room?”

  She stared at him with wide eyes, unable to believe his reaction. “I just—”

  “Get out!”

  His voice ricocheted off the walls, electrifying her. She snatched her hand away, pivoted, and bolted from the room.

  Seffy woke up clutching her blankets, her heart thundering in her ears. She blinked hard, trying to discern dreams from reality—something that was getting harder to do these days. Passing a trembling hand over her face, she waited until her pulse slowed, then looked around the room. Why was Trent nodding off in a chair next to her bed? Seffy reached out to poke him and see if he was real, but a noise on the other side of the room caught her attention.

  She stared at it for a moment, noticing the slight outline of light around the edges of the door. Did Gareth want her? Was he even now waiting for her in his room, willing her to come so he could explain his behavior? She had to go. Her respiration increased as she slid from the bed, but she felt a strange compulsion. The floor was cold against her bare feet. She walked silently out the door, turning to the right. At the far end of the hall, Seffy saw the flicker of a polka dot dress.

  A chill whispered over her, making her pause. That wasn't the way to Gareth's room. Her breath came faster as her feet began to move of their own volition. On she walked, vaguely aware of a light breeze blowing her hair back. Where did it come from? But the question faded from her mind as soon as it had come. The brief glimpses of the dress spurred her on even as a pressure of dread built within her.

  Then a pair of heavy doors swung open by some unseen force. Maybe it was the same force urging her onward. As she walked, the lighting in the hall became feeble, as if there was a brown-out. White doors with little windows embedded with wire mesh flickered past on either side. Where had she seen them before? Her steps slowed as a fear filled her like a noxious fume. She saw a corner of the dress poking out from one of the doorways. She stopped, clenching and unclenching her fists.

  I won't go. I don't want to go. Oh, please no.

  The fabric moved and the head of the little girl poked back into the hall. She crooked her finger.

  Seffy moved forward as if propelled from behind. She hated the helpless feeling assailing her. As she slowly approached the doorway, she looked up and saw a clock on the wall in the room. It had a woodland owl decoration on it. God, she hated that clock—the way it stared at her with its accusing eyes.

  It's ten 'til two. Ten 'til two. Hoot hoot hoot. Don't you be a dirty bird.

  Seffy's eyes filled with tears. Look away. Just look away. She did and to the right she saw a telephone. Who could she call? Would they pick up? Would Gareth? I don't know. Why don't I know?

  She froze. A large metal exam table sat in the middle of the room. Leather straps dangled from the edges, moving to the same mysterious breeze.

  Oh no.

  Terror clawed at her. Seffy backed up until she bumped into the opposite wall. Pressing her spine against the cold cement, she shook her head when the little girl beckoned her to come back to the room. Her breath came in panicky hitches. Seffy looked down the long hallway to the right. She closed her eyes and struggled to think. Maybe if she could use that phone. Someone would come get her. Take her away from this place. Gareth? Where are you? Why won't you come? You've always come before.

  After a despair-filled moment, she glanced back across the hall. The little girl stood with her back to her, looking into the room with the table. What did she see?

  Seffy frowned, suddenly overcome with curiosity. Had someone come for her? She pushed away from the wall and took hesitant steps the short distance across the hall. As she neared, she could see someone was now on the exam table. Confusion clouded her mind. It had been empty a moment ago. Who was it? Would the person take her home? She took another step and stopped.

  A choking gasp escaped her.

  The background receded until Seffy only became aware of the sight of her Doppelgänger stretched out on the table, wearing nothing but a bra and panties. The leg wound and bruising stood out lurid and purple against the stark white room. A Haz-Mat team bustled about, arranging instruments on a small tray next to the table. They paused, glanced at each other, and nodded. One lifted a scalpel and poi
sed it above her torso.

  Gulping air, Seffy watched with sick astonishment when the scalpel sliced the victim's skin. The man tugged it through her flesh, from side to side below her ribs, side to side from hip to hip, then one long incision up her midriff intersecting the other two. Bile burned her throat.

  She stared at the face. The other Seffy's eyes were open and glassy, staring at the ceiling. Did she feel pain? Seffy looked at the little girl and saw her watching the gruesome proceedings with detached interest. Seffy reluctantly looked back at the body and saw the people in silver suits peel back the skin, exposing her organs. They used some kind of metal scissors to hold the incision open. They swiftly removed her liver, plopping it in a nearby metal pan. Blood splashed over the sides. She whimpered and began to cry.

  One of the figures began digging deep in her body cavity. Suddenly her kidneys appeared, one in each hand, dripping syrupy blood. “Got 'em both.”

  Addison?

  Seffy winced as if in pain. Then they moved onto the next organ and the next until all her innards had been scooped out and piled into shiny pans brimming with dark liquid. Addison became a faceless figure once again.

  Seffy's breathing sounded like a freight train. Her vision narrowed until all she could see was the face of the other Seffy on the table. The Haz-Mat team moved to the top of the table and made a long incision along her scalp. Her own eyes widened when they pulled back the skin, exposing the brain. She cried out, but no one took note of her. As the team poked and prodded, the Seffy on the table turned her head and stared at her, a tear running down her waxen cheek.

  Seffy gaped, struggling to understand the impossible. After a bewildering moment, something dripped into her eyes. She blinked and brushed it away.

  Her hand came away red.

  Seffy felt warm trickles running down her temples, along her nose, into her mouth. She gagged at the coppery taste. Blood splattered onto the ground. When she looked down, she saw the front of her pajamas was drenched with it. Her midriff felt awash with something like warm bathwater. Lifting the hem of her top, she realized she had the same incisions as the body on the table. And they were bleeding. Great streams poured from the open flaps of flesh.