What if my dad had gone to Avalon, and had been murdered and framed by someone else?
That meant he might have been innocent. I still hedged at that thought because the idea of my father being vindicated sent too much hope through me, and I was scared to trust it. But I could at least, very carefully, count it as a possibility.
Next question. What if those same people were suspecting that I or another one of my family was going to Avalon as well?
That was scary. I tried to think of who it might be, which was nearly pointless. It could have been anyone. Probably someone from out of town. But how would they find out, unless they were in constant contact with my father? Unless they could have seen him slowly gain muscle definition or change in some other way none of the rest of his family had noticed?
What if he had gone a long time ago, back when he was my age or younger, and I never had a chance to notice? But who would have noticed then? People in his high school? In his college? In his church?
Church…
That had reminded me just how much my town had changed, and for the worse. Most of the people I had grown up knowing were no longer here. And except for my English teacher and a handful of my friends, they all hated me.
That couldn't be a coincidence. And I had been an idiot for not noticing that before.
My phone suddenly rang.
I nearly jumped out of bed in surprise, then looked over to the light coming from it.
An incoming call from a number I had never saved as a contact, and it was three o'clock in the morning.
For a while I just let it ring, too scared to move. Then I realized anyone who knew my number probably knew where I live, and that avoiding the phone call wouldn't do me any good.
Looking at my phone like it was a live snake, I reached over and reluctantly picked it up.
“Hello?” I asked as bravely as I could.
“Wes?” a frightened girl's voice said into the phone.
“Yeah,” I replied slowly. “Who is this? And why are you calling at this hour?” I was expecting an ominous voice, someone threatening me, even just heavy breathing noises. I was not expecting a frightened teen girl my age.
“It's Regina... and I'm sorry,” the nervous girl finally said.
“Regina?” I asked, barely believing my ears.
“Yes,” the girl repeated, and my brain finally connected the voice and name to a face.
“Regina from that party years ago?” I asked again, not needing her to confirm it. “You're actually calling me, and in the middle of the night?”
“Yes,” she repeated, anxiety running through her voice. “And I'm sorry.”
“Are you apologizing for calling this late, or are you apologizing for getting into my face and calling me a creep, or are you apologizing for spreading rumors about me after I had risked my own safety to protect you?” I couldn't keep the hard edge out of my voice.
“Yes,” she said with a sniff. “All of it. I should have called years ago. And I should have believed you when you told me what had happened. I'm sorry.”
“Okay,” I said slowly, and suspiciously. I was already in a paranoid mood from that last dream, and this conversation was not helping. “So why are you calling right now, and at this hour?”
“I've been avoiding talking to you because I've been ashamed,” Regina continued. Her voice was slightly steadier now. “It didn't take long to learn Chris' real character. But I had already lashed out at you, and my family was moving, so....” she took a breath. “No. Those are terrible reasons. I should have told you both sorry and thank you, and instead I ran away. You were a total knight to me, just like you were with everyone, and in return I was a total bitch. I'm sorry. and thank you. I would have been assaulted at the very least, and I spent forever being too ashamed over that fact instead of acknowledging that worse things didn't happen, and that you were the reason why. Thank you,” she repeated.
“I... forgive you,” I found myself saying. Something heavy lifted off of my spirit as I said that. “I accept your apology. And your gratitude.” I took another breath. Any other time, this phone call would have somehow been both inconvenient and appreciated. But after that last dream, I needed to know if there was more. “But why are you calling so late?”
“The same reason I can't tell anyone else about this,” Regina said, her voice still catching here and there. “I figured if I talked to you at night, it would be safer.”
“Safer how?” I demanded, not in the mood for puzzles.
“Wes,” Regina began again. “I signed an NDA. Me and my family. Chris' father stepped in after he heard about the party, and my family made an agreement to not talk about the issue.”
“How could you sign an NDA?” I asked. “You weren't even eighteen years old back then.”
“Mr. Rhodes was very persuasive,” Regina said quietly. “He said he knew exactly what the law said. He also 'suggested,'” I heard the emphasis on that final word. “That I take a certain amount of money as compensation for the event, and that I never talk to anyone about it, ever. He also 'suggested' that this was the most effective way to protect everyone's reputations and keep everyone safe.”
“He went that far?” I asked in disbelief. “To threaten you, a teenage girl, all those years ago?”
“I think he went farther, Wes,” the girl who had once hated me said. “I think he had another agreement with my parents, that they never told me about. And I'm still too scared to find out what it was.”
“That all sounds crazy, and hard to believe,” I said frankly. I wasn't trying to be mean, but I was still dealing with my newfound paranoia and this conversation's new direction just wasn't helping.
“I know,” Regina admitted.
“And I don't think it's the only reason you're calling at this exact time,” I added.
“No,” she continued. “I... heard about how you were doing. And I wanted to warn you.”
“Warn me?” I said in disbelief. “Warn me, more than three years later? After I've already become disabled? After I've probably lost my scholarship, my reputation, and my future?” The harsh edge had rushed back into my voice, and I nearly hung up on the phone right then and there. “After I've probably lost all of those things? Did you think I had some favorite plant that might still be in danger?”
“Yes, Wes, I'm calling after all of that,” Regina half-shouted, half-pleaded. “Because now I know, Wes! I finally took the courage to ask what happened to you, and I know they're not done! They're not done! Chris would never let you go after just crippling you! He'd only stop after he was sure he destroyed you, and there's no way he'd think that yet! And his father's even worse, Wes! Whatever monster Chris might be, his father's ten times worse!” she took a deep breath. “That's the real reason I called Wes. You're right. I should have called earlier. I should have found a way to warn you as soon as I found out what Chris was really like, but I didn't. You have the right to blame me for all of this if you want. But whatever you do, Wes, you need to know that you're not safe yet. Because as long as you're not terrified of Chris or Mr. Rhodes, they're going to keep going after you until you are. And somebody should still warn you, because you're the closest I've ever seen anyone come to fearless, and that means they're going to keep going after you until you finally break!”
“How do you know I haven't broken yet?” I asked quietly. “You haven't seen me in years.”
“No, but I talked to Christina the other day,” Regina said, shame coming back into her voice. “That was another reason I should have spoken up. That would have been on me too, if you hadn't stepped in, just like how you stepped in with me. You wouldn't have dared to warn her if you were already broken, Wes. Broken people don't warn others away from danger,” she added bitterly. “They let them stumble into the same danger they stumbled into themselves, all because they were stupid and trusted the wrong person!”
“Okay,” I said calmly. “But you're warning me now, instead of letting me stumble into danger?”<
br />
“I...” her voice caught again. The silence on her end of the phone seemed to struggle with itself, until she finally spoke again. “I don't know. I just had, okay? And I gotta go. Just... you didn't hear this warning from me, okay?”
That last part was a desperate plea.
“Okay, Regina,” I said, trying to remain calm. “Thanks for calling. I accept and appreciate your warning, your apology and your gratitude. Have a good night.”
“You too, Wes,” She muttered. “Be careful. Goodbye.”
She hung up. I sat there for a moment, alone in the middle of the night, thinking about enemies and other things in the dark that whispered curses at me, and wondering how long they had been hunting me.
How was I supposed to survive them here?
I couldn't do magic here on Earth. And knowing how to swing a sword or a spear wouldn't help me with anything but getting sent to jail. And that wasn't even considering whether I had recovered enough to fight, or even run from, my enemies.
That also wasn't considering they had all the information about me and I knew nothing about them. Was it the Rhodes family? Were they behind all this? According to Regina, even if they weren't they would still be out to get me, so I couldn't discount them no matter what.
I couldn't beat them, and I knew it. I could barely stop their son from drugging and hurting his girlfriends.
My phone beeped again.
I looked down at it.
There was no call or text. But the background had changed. It was just a blank screen with purple words:
Hold fast. I know you.
A split second later, I remembered that I had just woken up, and that this was the first time I had done so without feeling any pain whatsoever.
Chapter 25: Three Steps Back
“Hello, Wes,” My therapist smiled at me. “How are you? While don't you take a seat and we can talk about your progress?
How about we don't? I wanted to say. How about I don't give you anything at all while I try to figure out how much you know, and why you're after me, and just how screwed I am, since even my therapist is part of the plot against me?
But I really don't need to explain why it's a bad idea to reveal to your psychiatrist that you've figured out her evil scheme and that you know she's out to get you.
I had tried to get out of this meeting, but my mother had figured out long ago how to tell when I was faking being sick. She wouldn't let me skip the appointment without a good reason, and since I refused to share my suspicions about the massive conspiracy that was after me, here I was.
“Sure, Dr. Dalfrey,” I said as I stumbled carefully to a nearby seat. And it was carefully, because this woman was now the last one I wanted to have an accurate measure of my progress. “Just give me one second.”
Her eyes tracked me as I limped over to the sofa, guided myself down onto the seat and put my cane off to the side.
“You're looking so much better today,” Dr. Dalfrey said brightly as she watched me. “You're stumbling a little, but it almost seems like you don't need the cane anymore.”
Shit.
“That's incredible, Wes,” the woman continued. “Do you realize how much progress you've made? You should feel excited about this!”
Right. I was trying to deceive a woman who read people for a living.
“Yeah, it's honestly scary,” I replied. “I've been disappointed so many times that I guess I'm afraid my recovery might only be temporary again.
“Well that's an understandable concern,” Dr. Dalfrey said patiently and sweetly. “But in this case it's unwarranted. Look at your arms. You're even getting muscle definition back.”
Double-shit.
I had known going into this meeting that there was no way to hide my regenerated muscles. The weather was warm today and no sane person would ever wear long sleeves during a warm day in Texas. Wearing long sleeves right now would have trumpeted the fact that I needed to hide my arms.
I had been forced to just hope that she just wouldn't notice them. So, of course she did.
“Yeah, I'm hoping I can keep it,” I said. “It feels good to look like I did back when I played football.”
“I was just thinking that,” The blonde doctor said, and for a moment her eyes felt creepy on me. “But given how quickly you're suddenly progressing, I dare say you might even surpass your old physique. That's truly incredible, Wes, and I'd love to help you figure out why you're recovering so well.”
Yep, I thought. I'm screwed.
She was catching every sign of progress, I realized. It was as if she knew exactly what to look for.
“I'm honestly not sure what the cause is, Dr. Dalfrey,” I said with a shrug. “I guess now that I'm taking so much time off from school, I'm in a safer environment, and I have more time to try to perform the recommended exercises. Maybe it's just the result of having no one around to push me or knock me unconscious with a book.”
She gave me a sympathetic smile. One that I would have believed genuine, if this wasn't the first time she had tried to make one.
“I'm sure that is helping, Wes. And it truly is a shame you were forced to experience all of those attacks. But even taking that into account you're still improving almost unnaturally fast. Are you sure you're not doing anything different?”
“I have no idea, Dr. Dalfrey.” I replied. “I mean I'm grateful, but I'm as baffled as you are. I just hope I keep improving until I make a complete recovery.”
“So do I, Wes,” the woman said with a thin smile. “So do I.”
Don't sweat, I told myself. She'll see it. Just try and make it through the meeting. Mom is coming to pick me up in less than an hour.
“Why don't we talk about your dreams again?” the woman asked. “Have you been having any about going to another place?”
“Not that I can remember,” I replied slowly. “Do you really think that there's a correlation?”
“Anything's possible, at this point,” Dr. Dalfrey said calmly. “But since we talked about the subject in your last session I felt we should briefly revisit it.”
I slowly shook my head.
“I really can't remember anything,” I replied. “I know we talked about this before, but I've been pretty focused on other things, like the doctor's recommendations for my body and brain exercises.”
“That's fine, Wes.” The therapist said, looking down at her notes. “It was a long shot anyway. And honestly, things have progressed so well that most of this is no longer necessary. I think we've already accomplished our goal for today.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, disturbed. “I just got here. Are you saying we can end the session early?”
That would have been great if I could have gone home on my own, but I couldn't drive and my mother had already left for work. I'd have to call her and the fastest she could get here was in thirty minutes. Assuming she could get off work at all.
“Sure,” Dr. Dalfrey said with a completely unfriendly smile. “You could say that.”
I tensed, and she saw it.
“Wes, I have to apologize for underestimating you so much. Some point after our first meeting, I had assumed the rest of our meetings would never be productive and so I stopped taking them seriously.”
“I noticed,” I said slowly. “Why are you telling me this?”
And how many steps would it take me to make it to the door, I asked myself.
“I'm just encouraged by our progress. I only played a small role in it, but it was a necessary one.” She said smugly.
“Necessary how?” I asked, inching a little closer to the edge of my seat and to my cane. She looked at me as I did so, and smirked even more.
“By noticing your commitment to stay positive,” she replied. “Even after your last episode that led to you being hospitalized, you still found a way to be hopeful at your next meeting with me. There could have been any number of reasons for you choosing to do so, but the most likely one was that you had somehow discovered a new opportunity.
That let me assume, and recommend to others, that you had just possibly found a way to reach Avalon.”
I immediately rolled off the couch, barely noticing the small spike of pain. I started to crawl toward my walking stick lying nearby.
“Help!” I immediately shouted. “Help! I've fallen and I need help!”
She doesn't own this whole building, I reminded myself. Her office here was a rented suite. That meant someone she didn't control could possibly hear me and come in. They wouldn't get involved if I screamed I was in danger, or that my therapist was out to get me, but helping a fallen person up was much safer. All I needed was for them to be present, and to walk me out of the room to somewhere safe. If I could just have that happen, then everything would be fine. I could call my mother and get her to pick me up and never leave me alone with Dr. Dalfrey again.
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