by Meg Evans
How is this possible?
CHAPTER nineteen
I urgently need to speak with Dorian, but the black Bentley is gone from the driveway, plus my morning class apparently starts in an hour. It will need to wait.
At school, I recall that today I have a quiz in Sociology, which totally slipped my mind. I didn’t even look through my notes from Yvonne, one of my groupmates who always jots down thoroughly everything that is said in the lectures. On my lunch break, I swing by the cafeteria to have a bite to eat. I won’t skip dessert today; I need a pick-me-up after miserably the quiz. It’s there—standing in a long line with a plastic tray in my hand and looking at the menu board, trying to make up my mind about what I feel like having—that I hear a familiar voice behind me.
“Did you happen to lose your cellphone?”
It’s Matt, whose intention seems to be to pull out from me why I didn’t respond to his text. It’s not the best timing, as my hunger takes away my ability to think, but I’ll have to face him at some point sooner or later anyway.
“Hi, Matt. I’m so sorry, but the weekend was so crazy that I totally forgot! I sat down a couple of times to answer, but every time I did, I got distracted by something else. Besides, lately I’ve been fighting with my aunt a lot, and…” I shoot words at Matt like they are bullets and he is my target. I’m sure he’s gotten lost after my second sentence, but I hope that if I pound him with even more words, eventually he’ll forget why he wanted to speak to me.
“So, would you like to go to the concert with me?” He doesn’t let me fool him.
“Most likely I’ll be in Portland this upcoming weekend. I promised Rach that we would finally have our girls’ getaway with a sleepover.” I wave to Rach, who’s sitting at the table by the window on the other side of the cafeteria, keeping it for us. It’s not a regular wave, though. I use our secret code that only we both understand. To third parties it doesn’t mean anything, but when I move my hand to and fro in a wider motion than usual to Rach, it’s a sign that I need her help. She stands up and pushes her way through the crowd to help her friend in need. Before I can even say speak of the devil, she shows up by my side.
“Rach, which weekend did you ask me to go with you to Portland? It was this upcoming one, right?”
The ‘right’ at the end of the question is an element of our code as well.
“That’s right. I asked for this weekend.” She energetically nods, which looks a bit fake. “Hi, Matt, by the way.” She grins at him. “How are you doing?”
Our conversation doesn’t last too long. Rach obviously detects that something’s eating me up inside, so she uses several other of our tricks to get rid of Matt.
We cut through the cafeteria, passing students grouped into cliques, and make it to the table, which luckily hasn’t been taken by anyone else yet, where we plop onto the plastic chairs. “You won’t go to the concert with Matt, who used to be your biggest crush,” Rach says while pouring Caesar dressing onto her salad, “and when he talks to you, you look elsewhere.” She slants me a meaningful look. “Long story short, you have the name Dorian written on your forehead. If you claim one more time that you don’t feel anything for him, I swear, I’m going to choke you, woman.”
This time I don’t mind filling Rach in on the situation. Maddie knows, so why can’t my best friend? I only reveal as many facts as necessary to deliver the gist. I skip any inexplicable and supernatural phenomena that may cause weird reactions from her.
“You’re such a sucky friend!” escapes her lips after listening to my story. “You’re only telling me about all this now?” Resentment drips from her words.
“Sorry, but you know me; I only speak openly about things I’m certain of.”
“Yeah, but your tendencies don’t mean that this is how being friends works.” She brandishes the plastic fork she’s holding. If I didn’t know that she always makes wild gestures while speaking, I’d think she wanted to stab me with it as a punishment. “Promise me you’ll keep me in the loop from now on.” It sounds more like a command than a request.
“Of course, Mom,” I say to lighten up the atmosphere, but Rach clearly doesn’t feel like laughing or even cracking a smile.
Her lack of any form of contact with me throughout the rest of the day indicates that she’s still not happy with me: if Rach doesn’t flood me with dozens of texts, it’s a clear sign that she must have an issue with something I either did or said. The good news is that unless I massively screw up, it never takes more than one day for her to start talking to me again. She always surrenders as soon as she misses a companion she can ramble for hours to.
Today she breaks faster than usual. She reaches out to me again in less than six hours from the moment when she decided to give me the silent treatment, which is very soon by Rach’s standards. I’m even a bit concerned when I see her number pop up on my cell phone in the evening.
Rach: Hey Zara, you won’t believe it, but I bumped into your prince with some brunette at Whole Foods. She just gave him an obnoxious smooch in the veggie isle. I’m so sorry…
I read the message twice more. At first, a weight forms in my chest; I can’t believe that Rach has really just made this up to punish me for keeping my life news from her. However, when the revelation sinks in, my blood starts to boil. I know that she would never do something like this to me. I keep myself in check, though, because it might be one big misunderstanding.
Me: Are you positive it’s him?
Rach: Are you kidding? Do you think I could mistake him for someone else?!
Nope, I say to myself.
My blood boils. When I picture some strange woman kissing the lips that are mine, I tense up; jealousy explodes in my chest and fills me to the brim. It’s so strong that it hurts. I want to scream, throw things against the wall, maybe even punch something. I can’t handle the rage that grows in me with every second.
I jump to my feet and stomp up and my room, trying to collect myself. Nagging thoughts race through my mind.
Didn’t he admit last night that there was something special about me that other women didn’t have? Besides, it would make sense to tell me if he had changed his object of desire so that I didn’t have any expectations and hopes. Or maybe he’s never considered me as one—it was just my stupid brain thinking that I mattered. The truth is that I never did. He can kiss and make out with whoever he wants, and I was just naïve enough to believe that there could be something between us.
Over the next hour, I grow more and more agitated. Tears tremble on my eyelids, but I don’t let even one of them run down my cheek. My head is bombarded with self-loathing thoughts.
Unable to stand the chaos going on in my mind, I simply leave the house to wander aimlessly around the neighborhood. I ignore Dorian’s warnings not to be alone on the streets and risk coming across the unpredictable Rafael. In fact, that’s exactly what I want—a one-on-one encounter with him.
Maybe I do it to make myself terrified and let another feeling overshadow the pain that spreads though me, or perhaps I just need to make sure that Dorian really doesn’t care and won’t come to save me. Or will he? Maybe I just want him to see me suffering and feel remorse. Feel anything… But for me, not another woman.
There’s not a single hint of a vehicle on the road, nor anyone walking. A soothing breeze caresses my face while I stroll down the street. My brisk walk has calmed me down a tad and brought peace to my thoughts. My anger still swells within me, but it doesn’t affect my logical thinking anymore.
I should go back home as soon as possible. No man is worth me risking my life for him.
I stall in the middle of the street. If Rafael’s genuinely after me, sooner or later he’ll turn up. I scan the surroundings, my heart steadily speeding up. In the distance, I spot a fuzzy point that resembles a human silhouette more and more with every step it takes in my direction. A chill goes down my spine. The closer the person gets, the more my courage diminishes. I want to curl up into a ball and
wait for someone to rescue me.
Is it him?
Several more seconds go by, and I still can’t move. Suddenly it gets unusually dark for this hour; an icy wind arises and whips my face. I’m frozen to the marrow of my bones. My legs refuse to take even a half a step. Perhaps it’s fear that keeps me rooted to the ground. The figure is approaching me at a dangerously fast pace. An ominous raven’s caw echoes somewhere behind me. Anxiety spurs through me, my pulse erratic.
It’s not happening. It’s just another hallucination.
The houses vanish. So do the trees, sidewalk, sky, and ground. I feel like I’m standing in a dark tunnel where I and the figure are the only things that remain. I’m pierced by a cold chill when I notice that the man walking toward me is clutching a shiny item in his hand. A knife.
Cover your eyes. It’s my own voice coming from the back of my head. I do as I’m instructed, and squeeze my eyes closed. All of a sudden, the ground beneath me starts to sway back and forth. It’s difficult to stand on it anymore.
What’s happening? Where am I? Am I still on the street?
I strive to open my eyes again, but I’m unable to do so. My eyelids are too heavy. Panic spirals in me with every passing second.
A strong shove hits me somewhere around my chest. It can’t be human hands; it feels more like a sudden gust of wind that’s just pushed me in full force. It’s so powerful that it sweeps me off my feet. I fall to the ground. It’s not a painful crash, but hard enough to take my breath away. I cough in an attempt to get some air. Adrenaline surges through me. I know that he’s coming. I can sense his presence.
I need to get out of here. Wherever here is.
CHAPTER twenty
I’m lying down comfortably on something soft. It must be a bed. My breath is calm and measured; I’m not panting anymore. I open my eyes.
It must’ve been a nightmare.
As soon as I regain visual acuity, I get my bearings. What is before my eyes is the last thing I expected to see. I’ve been here only once, but I remember every detail of this minimalistic bedroom. Dorian’s sitting by the bed, surveying me from head to toe. Something sinister washes over his face. He looks like a volcano that is about to erupt. I pull myself up on the pillows and slowly regain the ability to think clearly.
I’m in big trouble.
“You’re reckless and irresponsible,” Dorian says, giving me a withering look. If looks could kill, I’d definitely be dead. “I don’t think you realize the gravity of the situation.”
“What am I even doing here?” I ask weakly.
“You went for a fucking stroll by yourself,” he snarls. “You completely ignored all my warnings.” I must have really pissed him off. “What the fuck came over you?!” His eyes are narrowed in anger.
I look down, unable to hold his eyes. “What happened? Why am I lying here? Were you there all along?”
“Not all along, but long enough.” Dorian runs his fingers through his hair, his voice still aggravated. “I brought you here.”
“Was all that real?”
“Yes—to you, not to me or anyone else.”
I look back up and meet his glare again.
“Wasn’t it only a hallucination then?”
“Yes and no.”
His responses are so lame that they only contribute to an even bigger mess in my head.
“A voice,” I recall. “It ordered me to cover my eyes.” I can’t recollect the rest that happened after I obeyed the voice. “How come he left me alone?”
“You’re welcome,” Dorian says, and places his cold palm on my forehead as if he wants to check whether I have a fever. He’s still tense, but his features gradually relax as he speaks. “He put you under hypnosis. Whatever you saw was real solely in your head.” He grabs my wrist and holds it to measure my pulse. “He manipulated your mind to lure you to him. Let’s say that I got to you before it was too late.”
“How come, if you didn’t see what I saw?”
“I knew what he was doing to you. You looked like you were sleepwalking, unconsciously approaching the lion’s maw of your own will.” He pauses to count the number of my heartbeats, then continues, “You walked here with me, but you can’t remember that because you were still under.”
“I came here on foot?” My jaw drops open. “That’s impossible, I don’t—”
“Remember, I know,” he finishes for me. “That’s how powerful his hypnosis skills are. I’m surprised that you’ve already woken up.”
“What time is it?” I ask, nervously looking around.
“It’s almost nine.”
“How did you know where I was?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It does matter. Everything matters, and you know that.” I take a few deep breaths, frustrated. “For example, why can’t I remember what happened after we kissed last night?” My voice grows firmer.
“You fell asleep. No big deal.” He shrugs.
I feel like rolling my eyes, but refrain. “You know it’s not true. People don’t just fall asleep like that.” I fall back onto the pillows and sigh heavily. “I’ve started to mingle dreams with reality, and it bothers me.”
“Okay, let’s say that I helped you just a bit.”
I stiffen immediately, tossing him a perplexed gaze. “Who are you? You don’t seem to be a normal person, Dorian. Everything that’s been taking place since I met you… I don’t know… It’s just weird.”
“I’m nothing that you’d want in your life.” He lets go of my hand.
“Can I decide about that?”
I see a small vein throbbing in his temple. “Why can’t you just let it go?”
“Because I need to know why I’ve been going crazy ever since I met you!” I jolt upright; frustration has finally taken over. “Why can’t I stop thinking about you? Why do I suffer every minute when you’re away from me? Why do I need you so badly?”
Dorian lurches to his feet and paces the room. His jaw is tight. He’s fighting an inner battle on whether or not he should let me in. He wants to tell me, he downright needs to, but he can’t.
“I’m your worst nightmare.”
“What do you mean? Should I be scared of you or something?”
“Yes, you should.” Dorian’s face is taut, his voice serious.
We stare at each other across a sudden ringing silence.
“Do you want to hurt me?”
“No.”
“What’s the matter then?”
“If you’re close with me, I’ll have to.” I spot concern in his eyes. Those are the eyes of a man who’s tormented by something.
“Why do you have to?”
“Because it’s in my nature. I can’t change it.”
I place my feet on the fuzzy carpet, and slowly get up from the bed. I desperately want to get closer to him and take away some of his troubles; help him win the inner battle of thoughts that confuses him so much. The muscles of his arms are tensed as he leans on the windowsill. Driven by the urge to soothe him, I clamp my hand on his shoulder. He’s even more knotted than I thought.
“Who are you?” I eye him like he’s some kind of an endangered species. “Or what are you, rather?”
“You’ll learn soon, I promise.”
“I’m not scared of you,” I say with confidence, looking at the side of his face. “I never have been, and I never will. When you’re around I feel something entirely different than fear.”
“It’s desire.” He slowly swivels to face me. “You lust after me. You’re hungry to be with me, want to have me only for yourself. You can’t function without me near you.” His voice is distant, his eyes unfathomable.
“How do you know all that?”
“Because that’s what the process looks like.”
“The process?”
“Yes, process—you heard me right.”
Another moment of silence stretches between us.
“What’s its purpose?”
“I can’t tell you
that.”
Of course; what did I expect?
“I know that you’re dating another woman.” A living fire of jealousy consumes me from the inside when I bring her up. “Does she feel the same as I do?”
“Zara, don’t do this.” He shakes his head, unwilling to talk about her.
“Does she?”
Dorian knows I’m not going to drop the subject, so he finally responds. “Yes.”
If there was a flicker of hope left in me, it’s been doused. I’m just next on the list. There’s nothing unique about me. I want to burst into tears, but I hold them back. Ultimately, Dorian never promised me anything, and I know that far too well. He’s been honest from day one and made it clear from the very beginning that he didn’t do relationships. I can’t deny that. I’m the one who didn’t take his words seriously and blindly believed that sooner or later I’d be able to change his mind. I need to face the facts and pull myself together.
“Did she ask you about these things too? Why she has hallucinations and why she feels the way she does?”
“None of them ever ask me any questions. They know the rules. Even if any of them tried to, they never got an answer.”
Thinking about the brunette makes me heartsick, but trying to grasp the idea of even more women involved with Dorian is excruciating. I can’t stand the thought of him driving them all crazy in the same way he does with me. The bitterness rises like bile into my mouth. My face, neck, and chest burn. I still hold my tears in check, but I’m not certain how long I’ll be able to do so, so I take a few steps away from him. With my back facing Dorian, I’m less vulnerable; less weak. I don’t want him to see me like this. It’s not who I am.
“Then why do you answer me?”
“Because with you, it’s different. I’ve already told you that you affect me in an inexplicable way. I’m not indifferent toward you, as I have been with the others.”
He’s lying to me. Not only is he shameless, but he also thinks that I’m naïve. Which I guess in a way I am. I want to trust him. I want to believe that we have a special bond.