Black-Eyed Kids: The Complete Series

by Miranda Hardy

  “What about Dr. Harris?”

  “He retired. Very suddenly, actually. All of his patients have been referred to his replacement. Maverick, anyone who experiences what you went through needs someone, a professional, to help you sort things out. Besides, I spoke with your father about it, and he agrees. We just want what’s best for you.”

  “Okay.”

  Hell, there’s got to be merit in something my parents actually agree on. There is no point in arguing now. I don’t have the energy to talk my way out of it, and it’s not like she’ll change her mind anyway. I figure if I’m not cooperative with the new therapist, they’ll get the point.

  “I’ll see you this evening after work. Dr. Wilson’s office is in 2A, on the second floor, the same as Dr. Harris’.”

  Second floor? I’m exhausted just thinking about taking the steps. “Okay. Bye.”

  “I love you.”

  “I love you, too, Mom.”

  The glass door in front of the building slides open, and cool air hits me in the face. I take the stairs two at a time and head toward the office.

  The waiting room consists of a red velvet chair next to a stack of new magazines sitting on a brown coffee table. Only one sign hangs on the door: Dr. Tara Wilson. She greets me as soon as I enter her office, so I must be her first patient for the day.

  She’s young, probably in her late twenties, which is a shock. I was expecting some old hag. A clip pulls her brunette hair back snugly and her glasses make her look super-smart and serious. No diplomas hang on the walls. As a matter of fact, the whole place lacks decoration. It’s so plain and boring.

  The office contains one desk, her chair, and a brown leather couch for her patients. Basically, this new shrink hadn’t changed one thing from how Dr. Harris had it. And why did he retire? He couldn’t have been much older than in his late fifties. I had spent three years going to see him, and I kind of miss the guy. No goodbyes, or see ya later. Makes me think we weren’t that special to him after all, the little prick.

  Dr. Wilson studies me. “Forgive the lack of art. I’m new in town and haven’t been able to decorate yet,” she says.

  “It’s fine.” I sit on the couch and cross my arms.

  She picks up a pad of paper. “Maverick Ashe. May I call you Maverick?”

  “Sure.” This whole thing is awkward, and I’m sure Dr. Wilson knows I don’t want to be here. I hate the way she looks at me, as if I’m some kind of zoo exhibit.

  “We’re meeting under the worst of circumstances. Normally, I would reach out to all of Dr. Harris’ patients personally. He didn’t plan to retire so soon, but stated he had a family emergency and had to leave. So I apologize.”

  I nod. Dr. Wilson’s soft voice is a nice change from Dr. Harris’ usually gruff manner. Hopefully this new shrink was also quick and to the point like him too.

  “So, you’ll have to fill in the gaps for me. Your mother said you recently lost a friend?”

  “Yes.” If this shrink expects me to break down and spill my guts, she’s got another thing coming.

  She looks up from her notes. “Well, I’m sure that can’t be easy to deal with.”

  “What else did my mother tell you?”

  She smiles. “She said that you may have made up a story to cope with the trauma.”

  “Of course she did.” Knowing what Mom really thinks of me feels like a stab to my chest. It hurts hearing Mom didn’t believe the truth, even though she told the detective she did. I regret telling her and the cops about the black-eyed kids. No wonder they think I’m insane.

  “So, you didn’t make up a story?”

  She’s trying to paint me as psychotic, and I am determined not to fall into her trap.

  “I’m not one to make up stories,” I reply.

  I’m not sure what hand to play here. Should I just say that I did maybe make it up because I was in shock? If I tell Dr. Wilson the truth, she will for sure start diagnosing me as crazy. I know I’m not crazy, and, now, a few friends know it too. At this very moment, I want to say Tarick ran away, but that would make me a liar.

  “I’m here to listen, Maverick. I’m not here to judge, and I never will. Would you like to tell me what happened? Are you ready to talk about it?” She wheels her chair around the desk to be closer to me.

  “No.”

  Dr. Wilson gives me a disappointed look, but I don’t care.

  “I’m no therapist,” I say, “but isn’t revisiting a traumatic event a bad thing for a crazy person to do? I thought we were going to talk about my feelings and other crap like that.”

  This woman looks as frigid as an ice cube. “First of all, you’re not crazy. Secondly, is there something that you’d like to talk about? Your family perhaps? If you want to share what you’re feeling, that’s fine, too. Would that make you more comfortable? This is your time, and you’re free to talk about whatever you want to share.”

  Ah. So every minute that ticks by is money in her wallet. Cha-ching!

  Exhaling an extended breath, I reply, “I really didn’t want to do this. I’m here to please my mom.”

  “I see.” Dr. Wilson finally puts down her clipboard and leans forward. “I understand. Your mother is worried about you. Often times, it’s difficult to be candid with people you love. People you normally trust. You’re afraid that they will judge you, think you’re ‘crazy.’ I get it.”

  “Yeah.” I slouch back into the leather.

  “Maverick, just know that whatever you say to me will not leave this room. I’m here to only listen and help you help yourself. You just have a lot of stuff on your mind, and I think I can help with that.”

  She smiles, and I’m pretty sure she’s sincere.

  “Okay. I can’t help but blame myself for what happened to Tarick. I was there,” I blurt out, finally relieved to say it. “I should have died too. I stood by and did nothing. Yet, I’m the one still here.”

  “It wasn’t your fault. There was nothing you could have done about it,” she tries to reassure me.

  “We were playing video games when the knocks began…” I stop to look up and see that she’s listening intently.

  I completely ignore that little voice telling me to shut up and instead relay the entire encounter as I remember it. I start telling my story slowly, afraid she’s either going to laugh or call in the guys with the straightjackets.

  She remains silent, her face like stone. My words tumble out easily now, and I go into great detail describing the black-eyed kids. I tell Dr. Wilson about their weird dark eyes, the buzzing in my head, and I even tell her that these creatures had names. Astid and Kren.

  I recall how I found Tarick dead, and that I was sure the one named Kren had killed him somehow, although I didn’t actually see that part since I was unconscious.

  Before I realize it, an alarm clock’s buzzer goes off. I jerk up from the noise, stopping my chatter.

  “I’m sorry.” Dr. Wilson reaches over and stops the alarm. “You can continue.”

  “No. That’s it, really. That’s how I remember it happening.” I rub my knees nervously, and I decide not to talk about the next night when Marcus, Lisa, Cadence, and I went back to the barn.

  “Wow. Didn’t that hour go by quickly?” she asks.

  I can’t read her. “You think I’m nuts, don’t you?”

  “Maverick, far from it.”

  “So, you believe what I told you?” I feel both of my eyes twitch. I can’t believe what I’m hearing. “You don’t think I’m crazy?”

  “You’re not crazy,” Dr. Wilson repeats. “I will say that you are hurting. You are under a lot of stress. You feel guilty. That’s very normal for those who actually witness a loved one pass away.”

  “You have an explanation for everything I said to you this morning?” I ask her, trying to draw her into telling me what she really thinks of me. There’s no way anybody can be this objective with what I just unloaded on her.

  “It’s not my job to explain everything. The min
d is capable of doing all sorts of things to cope with trauma. All I care about is your well-being. Like I told you before we started, it’s not me to judge.” Dr. Wilson glances at her notes. “And are you still taking twenty milligrams of Fluoxitine?”

  “My Prozac…yeah, I am,” I lie.

  “Your prescription is going to expire soon, so I’m going to write you a new one.” She writes something on a pad of paper before tearing off a sheet and handing it to me as I get up from the couch. “Maverick, would you like to meet me again tomorrow?”

  “Why?”

  “Because I think it’s beneficial for you to get things off your chest, and I’m here to help you.”

  I shrug. I have to admit that I do feel lighter after spending time with someone who listens without interrupting me. Judging me. “Sure. Same time? I start school on Wednesday.”

  “Sounds great to me.” She walks with me to the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Maverick. Have a great day.”

  I exit her simple office, go down the steps this time, and step out into the street. Amazingly, I feel better now than when I did before entering Dr. Wilson’s office. If I tell Mom that seeing a therapist was a good idea, she’ll probably cry and hug me to death, but she was right after all. But instead of heading home, I decide to pay Lisa a visit. She doesn’t live too far from here.

  I walk down a few blocks until I get to the rich side of town. Lisa’s vintage, red Mustang is parked on the street, so I know she’s home. With every step I take towards the front door, my fear continues to grow until it seizes me.

  She had spent the night in my room, so does that mean anything? The thought of maybe taking our friendship further terrifies me. Dr. Wilson said I’m not crazy, but I know I’m pretty messed up. Too messed up for a relationship, that’s for sure.

  After raising my hand to knock on the door, I stop my knuckles from rapping against the wood. How can something so innocent like knocking at the door have turned my life so upside down. I take a deep breath and gently knock anyway. The door opens, jostling me from my dark thoughts.

  “Oh my God! You scared the living daylights out of me.” Lisa’s Mom clutches her chest. “I was walking right up to the front door when you knocked.”

  “Sorry. I was…”

  “You can’t see Lisa.” She grabs onto the side of the door with one hand and closes it partially. “She’s grounded, Maverick.”

  “Oh, I didn’t know that.” I put my head down and I’m somewhat relieved that I don’t have to face her.

  “Well, goodbye.” She closes the door before I have a chance to say the same.

  IT’S LATE when I return home. I had aimlessly walked around town all day, just thinking about everything. It was easy losing track of my thoughts and of time, and I don’t think I managed to come to any kind of conclusion about anything. But it was better than going back to an empty house until Mom came home.

  After calling Mom earlier to let her know my therapy session went okay, she said I could stay out if I wanted to, which was a surprise. I expected her to demand I go home immediately.

  When I get to the house, the lights are out and I know that Mom is asleep. She goes to bed maybe just after dusk since she gets up so early.

  I tiptoe through the house. Once I get to my room, I crash onto the bed. I decide not to bother with changing my clothes. The clock says that it’s 8:15. It’s been a long day.

  I stare at the ceiling until it fades, the thoughts of the day drifting on clouds.

  Maverick...Maverick...wake up.

  An angelic voice echoes in my head. I hadn’t fallen asleep yet, right? I had just started to, but I’m pretty sure I’m actually awake.

  “What?” I grab my head with both hands.

  The buzzing returns. At my bedroom window, the black-eyed Astid-girl stares at me. I fall out of bed and knock the lamp to the floor.

  She’s back.

  12

  ASTID

  I’M DESPERATE. I have nowhere else to go. I’m not familiar with the area, and I don’t like the idea of running into any more of Kren’s lackeys.

  Maverick, I need you to let me in.

  I scan the woods behind me, reaching out as far as I can with my mind. I’m safe for now, but I know Kren and the others are searching for me.

  I look into Maverick’s room through the window, but he’s hiding.

  He peeks out from around his bed. Why? So you can finish me off?

  I’m still impressed that he doesn’t use his mouth to speak with me. No, I wouldn’t hurt you. If I wanted to, I could have.

  Maverick crawls closer to the window, but he averts his eyes towards the wooden floor. He’s afraid to look at me. At my eyes.

  And you obviously regret that, and you’re here to correct that mistake. Anger invades his aura.

  Maverick, please.

  He finally raises his chin and stares at me. My first instinct is to take over his mind, persuade him to let me in. But that is wrong, and it’s something I’ve vowed to never do again.

  He rushes to the window. You’re hurt.

  That’s when the others’ energies come into my mind. They are within range. I do my best to put up my auric force field so they can’t locate me, but I know they’ve already felt my presence. I’m hoping that by putting up my defenses, I’ve bought myself some time.

  I distinctly felt Kren’s energy before blocking them.

  Yes, I’m hurt…and I’m about to get more hurt unless you let me in. I look behind me, and I can feel them closing in.

  They are coming.

  Maverick opens the window. “Come in. Only you.”

  I stumble through the opening before shutting the window closed.

  As soon as I enter, I grab Maverick and push him down. I brace him against the wooden floor. A rock shatters the window. The glass cuts into my back, but I shield Maverick from the shards.

  “Damn!” Maverick struggles to free himself from under me. I rise and turn to see Avion and Garn at the window.

  This isn’t finished! Avion’s eyes narrow. He turns to Maverick. “Let me in,” he says out loud.

  I grab his face and turn it towards the wall. Don’t look into his eyes, Maverick. Look away.

  “NO!” Maverick screams.

  His mother calls out from her own bedroom, “Maverick?”

  I back up against the bedroom door. I will not allow you into this house, Avion, so you might as well leave.

  We will get you. Garn pulls Avion away and they disappear into the forest.

  “Are you okay?” his mother yells from her bed.

  I have to act fast. I exit Maverick’s room and go to her door. I knock on it. Maverick follows behind me. He fears for his mother’s safety, afraid I will kill her.

  “I’ve got such a horrible headache,” she says. “Come on in.”

  I open the door. His mother stares into my eyes and her mouth draws open.

  “Don’t kill her!” Maverick screams into my right ear.

  My mind reaches out to his mother, and her thoughts fill with worry. So much worry. She puts her hands to her ears, and I focus my attention on easing her mind. You’re dreaming, and so very tired. I think it’s best to go back to sleep.

  Maverick grabs my shoulder. “You leave her alone or I will kill you!”

  “Dreaming…tired.” Her worry turns into exhaustion as she closes her eyes and puts her head down on her pillow.

  “Mom?” Maverick steps into her room, confused about what just happened. He touches her forehead. “Is she okay?”

  She’s fine. Going to sleep, that’s all.

  Maverick draws back his fist. “What did you do?”

  Nothing. I just convinced her she was tired, and she’s dreaming all of this.

  The tension in his mind eases. He caresses his mother’s forehead before bending over her and listening for her heartbeat. He’s satisfied that she’s merely sleeping, and his anger dissipates.

  He follows me back to his room and glances at the shatte
red window. “What’s going on? Who were those jackasses who busted my window?”

  I close his door behind me. They were my executioners.

  13

  MAVERICK

  THE WORD EXECUTIONER made me think of men in black hoods with axes, preparing to cut your head off. Of course, my mind isn’t in the best of shape with the bees building a whole nest inside my brain. After a few short moments, they start to disappear.

  A dull throb begins to threaten my head. Astid and I stare at one another for what seems like an eternity. I’m trying to figure her out, and thoughts of aliens, demons, and every scary monster I’ve ever read about breaches the edges of my mind.

  Amazingly, I’m not so scared of her right now.

  “How’d you do that?” I rub my forehead. “Make my mom decide she was tired and go to sleep.”

  It’s easy to control the thoughts of humans, well…some of them. I’m not as strong as I was a few days ago, though.

  Astid’s words are crystal clear in my head despite the lingering buzzing sound.

  She turns her body toward the bathroom, and I notice the blood staining the back of her sweatshirt. I’m pretty sure the flying glass cut into her, but those aren’t her only injuries. When she swivels to look at me again, bruises cover her face and scrapes run up her arms and neck.

  Astid smiles. I must look ghastly.

  “That’s an understatement.” I regret the words as soon as they escape my mouth. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t talk. I look like somebody beat my face with a rake.”

  She shrugs. It’d be best if you think your words to me rather than speaking them out loud.

  I motion toward my bathroom. This telepathy-thing is pretty creepy, but cool. Let’s get you cleaned up.

  Astid goes into the bathroom before me. I can’t turn my back on her, but I’m still afraid to look at her eyes. I close the toilet seat and allow her to sit. Can I see your back?

  She bends over. Her shredded sweatshirt looks like it has been through a grinder, and glass shards have sliced into her skin.