Hidden Worlds

by Kristie Cook

  “What do you mean, what am I doing here?” Torin’s voice was wary. It didn’t sound like Torin, but it wasn’t Mark’s voice either. It was like a mix of the two.

  I squeezed my eyes shut. My hands were balled so tightly I could feel my nails breaking the skin of my palms. When I opened my eyes, Mark sat there again, peering at me with apprehension. I had wanted to keep what was happening to me from him, but how could I do that now? He was watching his daughter’s mind slowly crumble in front of him. “What is going on with you? What happened?” he demanded.

  “Nothing,” I mumbled. “I-I …” What could I say? There really was nothing I could say to explain what had occurred, except that I was certifiably nuts.

  “They are happening again aren’t they … the hallucinations?” Distress etched his face. “I can’t watch you go through this again, Em. I won’t do it.”

  “I told you. I’m dealing with a lot lately.”

  “Cut the crap, Em.” His tone turned even more serious. “I really hoped the therapy at Silverwood was going to help. I wanted so badly to believe the hallucinations hadn’t returned, and you were better. The school therapy is obviously not enough.” He shook his head, looking angry. “I also know your night terrors are back as well. You may think you’re hiding them from me, but you’re not.”

  I had convinced myself that I’d been good at concealing them from Mark for the past five years. But since my birthday in October, the night terrors became a lot more aggressive and frequent.

  “Remember our pact when I let you stop going to the therapist and taking your meds a few years ago? We agreed if anything like this started again, you would go back on them.” He looked at me. “I don’t want you to go through all the pain again.”

  “Therapy is helping. I swear. Please give it more time. I promise I’m getting better,” I whispered.

  Mark sighed. “I will give you until I come back from Tokyo. If the school therapy isn’t enough, and you aren’t getting better, I will be talking to Mrs. Sanchez and your counselors to get their input on which medications would be best for you and then discussing what steps we need to take next. Okay?”

  I nodded. There was nothing else to do. How could I tell him these unexplainable things were actually happening to me? He already thought I was unstable. Causing Mark any kind of pain made me sick.

  Starting the car, I looked back at the space where Lorcan had been.

  It was empty.

  SEVENTEEN

  The icy raindrops lashed my face, making me tighten my hood as I headed to the bus stop for school on Monday. Mark watched my every move that morning, waiting to see if I would start licking windows or talk to the refrigerator.

  I barely slept, my brain going over yesterday’s events: the way my tattoo burned when Eli touched me; our fight and him warning me to stay away from him; Lorcan watching me outside the restaurant; and seeing my father turn into Torin in front of me.

  I wrapped my arms around myself. The biting wind seeped through my jacket, causing my bones to ache. I bowed my head, battling the elements, while crossing the street to the bus stop. I almost fell asleep standing until the bus finally came. I climbed the steps slowly and pulled out my bus pass to show it to the driver. I stopped short, my pass slipping through my fingers, falling to the floor.

  Oh, God, not again.

  A small, disproportionate man sat in the driver’s seat. He could not have been more than four feet tall and barely able to reach the pedals. Long, pointed ears protruded high on his oversized head. His skin was wrinkled, thin, the color of parchment paper, and oozed with lumps, sores, and knobs. He had an elongated hooknose, and his puny, dark, beady eyes glared back into mine.

  ***

  “Move to the rear,” he snarled. I couldn’t budge my legs were locked in place. “Hey, did you hear me? Either get on or off. You’re holdin’ up the bus.”

  His razor-sharp teeth gleamed, causing me to jump back, almost falling down the steps. When I looked up again, a tall, grumpy-looking human sat in the driver’s seat, his long skinny legs tapping on the pedals impatiently.

  I bit my lip. This can’t be happening again.

  “On or off?” the old man barked at me.

  I stepped onto the bus, pushing through my fear. The driver yanked the handle, slamming the doors shut and punched the gas pedal. I stumbled down the aisle and flopped in a seat.

  The hallucinations were proof I was unstable. As the doctors had said, my mind was creating its own little world so I could handle all the things happening to me. I clearly wasn’t dealing well with the possibility of being a fire-starter or someone who could manipulate and move elements with my mind!

  Over the years, these hallucinations had been infrequent enough for me to brush them off as something else. But things had changed. When they happened now, they were so life-like and intense it was hard to tell what was real and what wasn’t. The only thing keeping them separate and me grounded was that the hallucinations were always strange mythical creatures. I had no idea why my mind chose fantasy characters to see. Maybe the stories my mother used to tell me before bed were coming back to me. Maybe it was another way to feel closer to her, to produce the world she used to spend hours creating for me.

  I was relieved when the bus arrived at the stop closest to Silverwood. I hurried off the bus without looking at the old man. Already late for school, I detoured from the main path, cutting through the woods. It was a shortcut that hopefully wouldn’t make me any later.

  Darkness adhered to the thick canopy of foliage trees. Mist swirled on the forest floor, clinging to ferns and mossy rocks. Crooked limbs weaved through each other, creating intricate spider webs of wood. Trampling through a dark, dense forest might have spooked most people or made them uncomfortable. It relaxed me.

  The shortcut drove me deeper into the woods. It felt as if energy trickled into my legs, making them itch for movement, to run. I broke into a brisk jog, my backpack banging rhythmically against my back. I sailed through the forest, weaving around trees and bushes with ease. Dampness clung to my face and hair as the mist thickened under the cover of trees. All the things that had been happening to me were begging to be released. I pumped my legs faster. The pulse of the woods pounded simultaneously with my heartbeat.

  Then, I felt something change. It felt like the drumming beat of the forest shouted a warning. Something was off. Wrong. Alarm nipped at my insides.

  I slowed and came to a stop. A stronger feeling of dread gripped me. I was being watched. Spinning around in a circle, I eyed the trees that surrounded me. Nervously, I swallowed, searching for the forest’s once-vibrant sounds of life. Total silence enveloped me and was only broken by the thumping of my heart. The silence was what really unnerved me. Not a single bird chirped, and not any of the other natural sounds of a forest whistled through the air. You never realize how comforting those sounds are until they’re gone. All the time I spent in the woods, I never felt uncomfortable. But now I did.

  A trickle of sweat ran down my face. I didn’t know what to do. There was no obvious threat, but my gut told me something was different. My inner awareness was something I had gotten from my mom. Our gut feelings were eerily right on, like a truth detector or a warning system.

  I was fairly certain there were no bears or other aggressive wildlife around this area, but the sensation of being hunted rang like a bell inside my head. Panic rose up, and I stumbled backward until I pressed against a massive boulder.

  My skin tingled, and blood pounded in my ears. Whatever it was, it was getting closer, edging slowly towards me. This was it. I hoped it would be an animal that attacked me. Yes, I’d rather die as a bear’s Happy Meal than as some girl murdered by a deranged serial killer.

  A branch snapped, breaking the silence. The sound came from the opposite direction from where I felt the threat. My attention flew to the sound, searching the perimeter in front of me. Out of nowhere, a massive figure appeared. I jumped back, squeaking out a startled yelp. �
��You scared the shit out of me.” I put my hand on my chest as I caught my breath. I looked back to where Eli stood. His features were hard and cruel. Even though it was only Eli, something kept me from thinking I was entirely safe. “What are you doing out here?”

  “Surveillance.”

  “You mean you’re following me.”

  “If some girls did what they were told …”

  “Not something I’m particularly good at.”

  “So I’ve noticed.”

  “Okay, besides you being an extremely creepy stalker guy … how did you know I was out here?”

  Eli cocked his head, staying mute. A spine-chilling smile stretched his lips. There was something dark and unsafe about him, and something today reminded me of the first night I saw him. He was forbidding, cold, and let’s be honest, straight out scary. What if he had hunted me in the forest? He might find it amusing to play with me as a cat would a mouse. There was no denying his predatory nature. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but there was something about him that felt more animal than man.

  “Think it’s time you got to class,” Eli said.

  “And once again, you think I’m simply going to jump at your every command.” I folded my arms. “I don’t know what kind of girls you’ve dealt with before. Maybe Samantha obeys your every order, but I don’t.”

  Suddenly, he was in my face. I took several steps back. “Samantha has to.” Eli leaned down, his lips brushing across my ear. “You will eventually submit … and happily.”

  My breath hitched. I was locked in place as he moved around me, and heat blistered through my mind and body.

  It had only been a few seconds before I turned to say something, which I’m sure would have been very witty, and he was gone. I pivoted as my eyes darted in every direction. Where the hell did he go? There was no way he could’ve walked away that fast.

  It also hit me—I hadn’t heard him leave.

  EIGHTEEN

  The rest of the day didn’t get any better. Actually, it sucked. The thing that should have put me in a good mood was Mrs. Sanchez calling me into her office and telling me Principal Mitchell was willing to reassess my going back to my old school at the end of the month—if I continued to walk a straight and narrow path. The community service would remain in play, so I would still have to come back after school on Mondays, Thursdays, and the weekends for the next several months.

  I should have been thrilled at the prospect of returning to school with my friends, but the news seemed to only darken the cloud hanging over me. I felt more at home at Silverwood, but the idea I would prefer to stay in a school for troubled students rather than a normal high school with my friends kept my lips sealed.

  Poor Josh tried so hard to get me out of my funk, but my mind wouldn’t let him. I did my best to smother any more thoughts about leaving Silverwood, the bus driver, and Eli. I dreaded going out to the O.A.R. site, and Josh had to practically drag me there.

  “Are you going to tell me what’s going on between you two?” His chin jutted toward Eli, clearly not a fan of Josh’s.

  “Nothing.”

  “Really?” Josh looked down at me. “Come on, Em, you guys act like you hate each other, but the sexual tension is so thick you could choke on it. It’s pretty obvious something is going on.”

  “I promise you. Nothing is going on with him,” I said adamantly.

  “Good,” he replied as we walked to the site. “Because one, he has a girlfriend, and two, he is not the type of guy you should get involved with. Bikers don’t make good boyfriends.”

  I didn’t bother clarifying Samantha was more of a sex friend than a girlfriend. “You don’t have to preach to the choir here.”

  “I think I do.”

  I gave Josh a side glance and was about to respond further when I felt the unique thumping within, warning me Eli was near. Until he touched my tattoo the other day, I never really thought about exactly where the warning was coming from. My whole body seemed to react when he got close to me, so I wasn’t surprised I hadn’t noticed it ‘til today. It was slight, but I could feel my tattoo starting to warm.

  “All right, today two of us will be taking the wheelbarrow to get the compost. The rest will stay here and shovel it into the planters,” Eli addressed the group. “Brycin, you’re with me.”

  I’m sure I looked elegant as I sputtered, “Huh? Me? Why me?”

  He smirked. “Because …”

  Ah, I was being punished for this morning. He knew I had to obey him here. This was his way of seeing me “submit.” Bastard. I didn’t like it one bit. I glowered at him, fighting every instinct to tell him off.

  “Come on, Brycin. The compost isn’t getting any less foul.” Eli jerked his head for me to follow.

  Josh snickered like this only proved his theory.

  “Shut up,” I grumbled, which only made him laugh harder. I approached Eli who threw two shovels into the wheelbarrow.

  He nodded toward it. “It’s not going to push itself.”

  The more my eyes narrowed, the more his glinted with merriment. I gripped the handles and followed him despairingly, muttering obscenities the entire way.

  When we got to the rotten pile of food, it took everything I had not to gag. Eli pulled the shovels out, handed one to me, and without a word, started scooping the foul-smelling compost into the cart. Reluctantly, I did the same. I found myself once again watching Eli. His sculpted arms flexed, and his broad shoulders strained his t-shirt as he burrowed his shovel deep into the dirt. There was no way I could deny it. I was attracted to him. Drawn to him. I shook my head. Shallow, Em? He was hot, but I knew nothing about him. I didn’t even know how old he was. In some way, she seemed ageless.

  “Stop staring at me, Brycin.”

  I quickly looked away, embarrassed. Wait a minute, his back was to me. How did he know I was looking at him? “Ummm … can I ask you something?”

  “I don’t know, can you?”

  I sighed. “Can’t you ever answer anything straight?” He turned and gave me a look saying I should ask him a question now if I was going to. “I’m curious about how old you are.” I looked to the side, my eyes not able to meet his.

  “Okay, wasn’t expecting that one.” He regarded me for a bit before answering. “I guess I would be considered around twenty-four or so.”

  “Huh? What do you mean considered?”

  “I mean I’m twenty-four,” he replied hastily, returning to shoveling. Twenty-four. Six years older than me.

  “How long have you been in your motorcycle gang?”

  “You sure are nosey today.” He stopped shoveling and wiped his brow. “And it’s a club, not a gang.”

  “I’m sure that makes all the difference.” I snorted, and he gave me a severe look. I would not let him intimidate me. I would find out more about him, even if it frightened the crap out of me. “So how long have you been with them?”

  “All my life. It’s something I was sort of born into,” he said. “But I became a leader when we arrived here.”

  “Where did you live before?”

  He gave an exasperated sigh. “Let’s say I came from a place far from here,” he replied. “Now get back to work, Brycin.”

  There was so much I wanted to know about him, but I didn’t dare ask. We fell back into a comfortable silence. The sounds of the shovel sinking into the earth and lifting the compost into the wheelbarrow drew me into a soothing trance as we worked. Besides my need to hear his voice, everything seemed to be okay between us for a while. We weren’t at each other’s throats, which would have been encouraging except that we weren’t talking at this moment.

  I pulled my hair up into a ponytail to get it out of my face.

  Eli drove his shovel into the compost pile, a glistening sheen starting to cover his forehead. “So … your tattoo …”

  Those three words made the world halt around me. He was bringing up the exact subject I thought he would do everything in his power to avoid, denying that it every h
appened.

  “Yeah, what about it?”

  “What is it?”

  “It’s only some symbols I sketched. It represents someone I love.” I avoided talking about my mom. Every time I did, it felt like I was being stabbed in the heart again, so I turned the question back on him. “How big is the one on your arm?” I pointed to his shoulder.

  “It’s big. It goes around to my back and side and down to my thigh.” He pulled up his sleeve, showing me a bit of his tattoo—inked lines wrapped around his biceps, slinking up to his shoulder. From what I could see, it definitely looked like the same one I saw on his torso. My pulse raced. My fingers longed to reach out and touch his tattoo, to slide underneath his sleeve and trace the lines until they reached his back—or pull up his shirt and let my hand trickle down his abs. I gripped my fingers to stop them from acting on impulse.

  Focus, Em!

  “Does it mean anything?” I finally asked.

  His tone and face were serious. “It’s my gang tattoo.”

  “Right.” I smirked, getting his jab.

  “If you have a tattoo in this town, it’s assumed you’re in a tough biker gang. But let me give you a little advice. It helps if you do have a bike.”

  “I got a ten-speed. Does that count?”

  “You are so badass.”

  “Hey, when I ring the bell, you should see them clear out of the way.”

  Our eyes connected. Heat steamrolled my veins, sending fire through me as something else traversed between us.

  ***

  We worked harmony for the next two hours, going back and forth between the compost pile and the O.A.R. site, loading and dumping the fertilizer. We were both sweaty and I’m sure smelly. I was amazed at how comfortable I felt next to him, and strangely, the closer he was, the better I felt.

  After school, Eli and I headed to the ropes course site. We didn’t have to deal with kids during the week. On Mondays and Thursdays for the next two weeks, as a part of our community service hours, we had to set up the obstacle course and the paintball area for the summer schedule.

  In the storage unit were old tires, different types of ropes, a balance beam, and other items used for the obstacle course. I liked that Eli didn’t think I couldn’t handle some of the heavier stuff because I was a girl. He treated me like an equal, even though I was sweating by the time we got to the climbing wall.