by Regan Claire
I’m not looking forward to spending the day alone. By myself. All day long. But I should probably figure out how I feel about Rhys before I try spending any more time with the guy, so even though I’ll probably be bored and lonely, I’m glad he’s gone.
I decide to go for a walk on the beach. It’s free, and I’ve only had the chance to go once since I moved here. It’s too cold for me to get in the water, especially this time of morning, even though it actually feels like spring, but I can go walk and maybe think about things.
I have no childhood memories of seeing the ocean, so when I came last week shortly after I moved, I was surprised for a number of reasons. The first, and least important, was the color of the sand. It’s not the bright white that movies made me expect, and the water isn’t a clear crystal blue.
The way I feel when I see the water is almost nostalgic despite its being only my second time seeing it. I leave my shoes in the car after parking in the lot for the only access point I know of, which I suspect is mostly used by tourists. I’m glad to see I’m the only one on the beach this morning. I’m glad I came this early, not only for the solitude, but the view too. The sun is already up, but only barely, and the colors on the horizon are still amazing. I don’t walk the beach like I intended, and instead walk up to where the water meets the sand and go in far enough that the water laps at my ankles. I remember a snippet of my dream again, talking about the freedom I had in the ocean. I can see where my subconscious would get the idea that the ocean represents freedom.
Maybe that’s why I chose to move here, to the beach, instead of to all the other places in the country I could have gone. Even though I’ve abused my power over and over again in the past, I’ve also felt trapped by it. Part of me is mad at how unfair life is that I’ll never be able to experience something resembling normal. How can I know when a friendship is real when my presence can be addictive to people? No, any relationship I’ll ever have can be one-sided at best. Either people are enthralled by me and care far more about me than I can possibly care about them, or I keep them completely at a distance so that they’ll never get hooked and hurt by what I am.
Whatever that is.
Everything has changed since I moved here. I’m not using my powers, not on purpose. At the very least, I’m not using my powers to use people. I’m proud of myself for that. I have a job that I like, even if it’s temporary, and the few people I’ve met don’t seem to have any weird side-effects from being around me. Not even Rhys, from whom I have actually fed multiple times now. How am I even feeding from him without trying to? That’s never happened before. Not once have I unknowingly used my abilities until this week. Maybe things changed once I stopped being so reckless with them. Now that my power isn’t actively used to get what I want, maybe it’s more passive when it gets its hooks into people. So, if it happens by accident, without my trying at all, it doesn’t have any wonky side effects, like making people my personal love-slaves.
It kinda makes sense. I’ve had substantial feeds from Rhys since I met him and he is completely unchanged. My mood lifts. If that’s the case, as long as I keep doing the same thing I’m doing now and not using my powers on purpose, maybe I can have a bit of normalcy in my life.
Which means, if Rhys calls me later and wants to hang out, I don’t have to try and push him away like everyone else. I can say yes if he asks me on a date, and maybe even…but, what if he doesn’t want to go out with me? I know there’s attraction there, because I’ve felt that much from him and the kisses we’ve shared.
I chuckle and shake my head. This must be what it’s like for normal people in the dating world.
My phone vibrates, and I reach into my pocket for my phone and see a message from an unknown number. Two more messages arrive before my eyes.
*Hey, does tonight work for you?
*It’s Eros.
*How does 6pm sound?
I almost forgot that we are supposed to get together soon. I’m even more glad I’ve had this little revelation, because it could mean that Eros can be more than a potential employer. He could be a friend, the way he was in my dream. Weird that everyone else had a different name except him. I wonder if that means anything.
~I’m free all day. I can be there at 6pm.
*Great, we’ll see you tonight.
I check the address he sends in my GPS to make sure it’s not in the middle of a murder-field, then decide to head home.
My feet are covered in sand, so I go to the little outside shower to rinse them off once I’m back in the parking lot. I don’t realize how sandy the parking lot is until after my feet are nice and sand-free, and I stand in the wet puddle for a minute to think about how I can make it to my car without getting them dirty again. Next time I will probably have an easier time just staying dry and wiping the sand off once I get to my car.
A family gets out of a nearby car while I’m standing there mentally kicking myself. A little girl is holding a kite in one hand, and her Daddy’s hand in the other, while her little brother is chasing after a ball he just dropped. It rolls to a stop next to my sodden feet. I pick it up and smile at the small family as they walk over to collect the ball. The children’s little faces are shining with excitement, and even though the dad looks frazzled around the edges, there’s still a contentment there.
“Here you go,” I tell the little boy as I hold out the ball once he’s close enough.
Before I hand it to him, I’m hit directly in the gut with a bunch of heart-feels and, horror struck, the ball falls from my hands. What did I just do? Did I just feed off a little boy? The dad says thank you, but I don’t respond. I didn’t just feed off a little boy, I fed off a family. Yet feeding doesn’t quite seem like the right word. It’s more like I felt their love for each other, and that love fueled me. I watch as the three of them move away, completely unaffected by what just happened. I’m not though. I feel like I just did a shot of espresso. Their love for each other sated my hunger in a way that only my recent feedings from Rhys have done. But with Rhys, I’ve fed off his attraction, his lust, while we were attached by the tongue.
Except…except my little tendrils of power were hooked into him while we slept. There was no making out, or heavy petting. Only snuggles and snoozing.
I don’t know what it means, but maybe it’s still a good thing. Because however I was energized by the family, it wasn’t on purpose and they didn’t even notice anything happening. My hypothesis that negative side-effects of my powers are being thwarted by unintentional energy-sucking-feeding-whateverness is still good.
Could this be the trick I’ve been missing to have a semi-decent life that doesn’t require ruining other peoples lives to achieve? Either way, it’s something to hope for, and I go to my car no longer worrying about how messy my feet are, because right now I feel pretty damn good about life.
Needs a Chocolate
When I get home, there’s a small box on my door mat. It’s a yellow box of chocolates, and I smile because maybe Rhys stopped back by and brought them to me. He doesn’t seem like the type to leave chocolates by my front door, but I’m certainly not complaining. I grab it, surprised at how heavy it feels, but it’s been a while since I’ve had a box of chocolates so I don’t think anything of it.
I set it down on my new couch, then run to the bathroom and kick off my shoes so I can clean my feet before I track sand all over the place. Rhys left his dongle, which is still a funny word, and I’m very much looking forward to binge-watching over a box of sweets until it’s time to go meet with Eros. I take the lid off and peer in to choose my piece of chocolate.
Then scream and jump off the couch, dropping the box and scattering the contents across my floor.
“Oh-my-god-what-the…”
My heart is racing, and I see the box, now empty, lying face up on the floor, its contents scattered nearby. There’s a white piece of paper that floated out when I threw the box, but I can only muster the tiniest bit of curiosity for it. I need my phone, asap.
My shaking hands make it hard to dial 9-1-1, but I manage.
“Hello, what’s your emergency?”
“I got a package, but it wasn’t chocolate, and I threw it. It’s…” I look over to my floor, where a severed hand is palm up as if it’s reaching for me to grab it. I gag, then turn around so I don’t see it anymore.
“Ma’am, do you have an emergency? Are you in any danger?”
“No, I’m not in any danger. It’s just, there were hands in the box.”
“Human hands, ma’am?”
“Yes human hands! I think I’m going to be sick.” I put my head between my legs and focus on breathing.
“Please calm down ma’am. Where do you live?”
I rattle off my address.
“I have officers heading there now. How many hands were in the box?”
Seriously? Is this a common occurrence? The woman could act a little freaked out with me.
“There were two.”
“You’re certain there were only two?”
“Yes, I’m certain!” Only two? One severed hand in a chocolate box would be too many!
There’s a loud knock on the door, followed with the sound “Police Department.”
“Oh thank god, an officer is already here,” I tell the operator on the phone, then hang up and open the door. “Thank you for getting here so quickly. They’re right over there.”
“April? I’m Detective Montgomery. I have a few questions I’d like to ask you. Do you mind if I come in?” the detective asks in a very matter-of-fact manner, but still with an undertone of warmth.
My brain sputters. Does he want to ask questions about the hands or is he going to do something about them, like get them out of my living room. “You’re here about the hands, right? The operator said someone was on his way.”
“What about hands?” the detective asks, this time without warmth. I open the door wider and step to the side. “That’s why I called. I came home and there was a box on the doorstep. Those were inside. That’s why you’re here, right?”
The detective visibly tenses up when I’ve opened the door wide enough for him to see inside; he actually jerks his hand as if he might be going for his gun, but doesn’t. Detective Montgomery doesn’t say anything either, not to me, he just makes a call on his phone.
“This is Montgomery. I’m going to need CSI at my location,” he says, the turns to look at me. “Where’s the box?” he asks.
I point in the direction of the couch, but don’t turn around. I don’t want to see anymore. “It’s over there.”
He comes inside and goes to where I pointed. “There was only one?”
“No, two. It’s somewhere around there. I wasn’t paying much attention when I threw the box.”
Detective Montgomery finds it on the floor leaning against my recliner. I wonder what the laws are on burning furniture. I can’t stop looking at it as he bends over, still keeping his space, and gets a closer look himself. It’s like a weird macabre statue rather than an actual people-piece. And there’s no blood. Now that I’m thinking about it, the box was also dry, or at least I didn’t notice any gooey-ness in my brief look there.
There’s another knock on the door. My hand is still on the handle, so I pull it open again to two more officers, this time in uniform.
“We’re responding to a 9-1-1 call about a suspicious package.”
“Yes, come in.” At least the operator took me seriously on the phone. The detective comes over to speak to the officers. I look back and forth as the officers explain the call and the detective explains what he’s found.
“I have CSI on their way here. If you can keep the scene secure until they arrive to bag up the evidence, I’m going to take April to the station so we can work out what happened here.”
“We’re going to the station?”
“I think that’s best, don’t you?” he asks.
I think of the palm up hand and shudder. Yeah, I’m actually super okay with getting out of here until all the evidence is removed.
“Okay, should I just follow you in my car?” What if Judy-the-GPS takes me to the wrong police department?
“I’ll drive,” he says.
I nod my head. That makes the most sense. GPS uses a lot of data, anyway. I’m still clutching my phone, so all I have to do is slip back on my flip flops…which I took off next to the couch—actually, I think my tennis shoes will be fine—and grab my purse next to the door. I follow the detective to his shiny dark sedan, and he opens one of the back doors for me to get into. Of course I wouldn’t be allowed to sit up front. It’s probably against policy or something. It’s a short ride to the station, which I spend the entire time trying to think of anything except how hands look when they aren’t attached to a person anymore.
I don’t do a good job.
The station is busy inside, and I stay close to Detective Montgomery as he leads me to a small room with a table sitting in the middle. I go to take a seat in one of the chairs, but someone approaches Montgomery’s right as he’s closing the door. I can’t hear what they say, since they’re still technically outside of the room and are being careful to speak quietly and closely to each other. They both look at me, then continue their conversation.
“April, there’s something that needs my attention. I’ll be with you in a few minutes. Would you like any coffee?” Montgomery pops his head into the door to ask a minute later.
Coffee? No, my heart is already racing and I feel strangely energized. The last thing I need is caffeine. Maybe it’s shock, this sensation that I can do basically anything. If it is, then it’s not so bad. I mean, it’s not worth opening a box full of severed hands, but if there’s another way to gain this strength I can feel strumming through my veins, it might be worth it.
“Water would actually be nice.” Was it okay to ask for water? Did I just treat a public servant like a…servant?
He nods his head, then closes the door. Except he didn’t latch it all the way and the door slowly creeps about halfway open.
I sit there and wait, briefly tempted to walk up to what I’m sure is a one-way mirror and fix my makeup before deciding against it. It’s not so much that I feel the need to look pretty right now, but I’m bored and the only games on my phone take too much data to play. My heart rate has slowed back to normal, so maybe I’m not in shock. I still feel incredibly energized. Now that I’m thinking about it, I’ve been feeling this way ever since I woke up to my energy sucking on Rhys. Perhaps that’s why I feel so good even though I’m seriously freaked out by the hand situation.
Someone brings me a bottle of water. A few more minutes pass by. Screw it, I wonder if there are any Pokemon in the station. I unlock my phone, but it’s no use. Data or no data, I can’t play anything at all with no service. Note to self: download solitaire or something.
The only source of entertainment in the room is the clock on the wall ticking the time away. Tick-tock. Tick-tock. I finish my water out of sheer boredom.
My eyes are drawn to the door, where I can’t see much but at least it’s not bare walls or a clock that’s behind by three minutes. There’s an officer in my line of sight. He’s not doing much more than twisting the wedding band on his finger, but I can’t stop watching him. It’s weird, because I swear I can feel his emotions. Or, at least some of them. Like the way he’s fighting an attraction to someone nearby. Maybe the woman at the desk next to his. As I think that, she actually leans closer to him and says something, reaching a hand to touch his at his desk. She’s attracted too, and he knows it. I sense a little heartache coming from him too, and it makes me think it’s over his wife, the way he keeps twirling that ring around and around.
Maybe it’s shock after all, and I’m having weird shock-related hallucinations. Can hallucinations even be sensations, or just things you see? But no, I started feeling weird earlier. At the beach I felt that family’s emotions towards one another—right before I fed from it. But nothing else makes sense. I’ve ne
ver fed from an emotion that wasn’t directed at me before, and while I’ve been able to sense certain things about other people, it’s usually not more than a whisper of feeling. Not when those emotions aren’t directed at me.
Finally, after what seems like hours but the clock says has only been one, Detective Montgomery walks in with the person whom he was talking to earlier. She has a manilla folder in one hand, which she places on the table when they both sit across from me. Detective Montgomery gives me a curt nod, but something about his body language towards me has changed.
“This is Detective Minerva Polias ,” Montgomery says. I open my mouth to say hello, but don’t get the chance.
“Where were you last night, between midnight and five a.m?” she asks first, grey eyes boring into my own.
What? “I was sleeping at home. Why?”
“When was the last time you saw Micah Foley?”
“Who?” I thought I was here to talk about the hands.
She opens a folder, grabs a photo from the top and slides it across the table to me face-down.
Curious, I flip it over. It takes my mind a few seconds to register what I’m seeing. First, it just looks like a guy passed out in the street, but no one passes out with his eyes open and unseeing. Then I see the weird angle of his head. I flip the photo back over and push it away.
“Is he dead?” I say-not-screech. I might puke.
“Clearly. We’d like to know how you knew Micah here and when you saw him last.”
“I don’t know that guy! Why would you think I know him?” I’m sweating, but not because it’s hot in here.
“We have a witness placing you together a few nights ago. Besides,” Montgomery reaches over and grabs another photo and slides it to me, this time not bothering to place it face down. “His hands were in your apartment when I stopped by this morning.”
My eyes are already caught on the picture. It must be the same person as before, but I don’t see his face in this shot. Only a close-up of where one of his hands used to be attached to his arm.