“I think I’m going to be sick.” I rest my hands on my thighs.
“Darien?” T.K. pleads.
There is no response, only footsteps as Darien approaches me, wearing Mitch’s body as a shield. “This won’t hurt,” he whispers to me. “It will make it all go away.”
I don’t fight him as he traces my temples with his fingers.
I wait for eternity; I am ready to welcome the numbing bliss I know will come from the fuzziness Darien wants to inflict upon me.
Nothing happens.
I look up at Darien wearing Mitch’s face and become enraged. He tried to take my memories from me, tried to erase everything I learned as though I am some kind of toy he can reset back to its factory settings. The fact I almost let him makes me nauseous. I shove him off me–hard.
Darien’s head smacks against the side of the couch.
“Raye?” T.K. takes a hesitant step toward me.
“You son of a bitch!” I thrust my hands into his chest. “You can’t reset me! Like this is a game!” I shove into him again, my whole body filling with anger. It is white-hot and pulsing. It is a tangible entity, separate from the rest of me.
“That should have worked.” Darien stands, rubbing Mitch’s head. “Something’s wrong. It’s like I hit a brick wall. Solid. Immovable. It’s like…”
“Trying to manipulate one of us?” T.K. replies. His face is horror-struck.
“Exactly.”
Four pairs of eyes fix on me, all holding a similar look of shock and fear. “Let me try,” Marcella moves toward me like a jaguar. I take a step back, straight into Darien’s chest. He holds me against him, his hand clapped over my mouth to prevent my screams from escaping. My eyes lock on T.K. His face is red and his mouth is in a grim line, but he does not step in.
Coward. Murderer.
My stomach turns inside me. I loved him.
Marcella shoves her fingers into my temples as Darien restrains me. I hear Chane whimper from the corner; when I turn to her, she is holding her arms around her stomach again, her face pale.
“I can’t…” Marcella steps back, anger filling her voice. “I don’t understand. Why isn’t it working?” She stomps her foot, focusing on Darien as he lets me go.
“Tell me exactly what you did to her,” he replies. It is a regular day for him, another day of murder and violation.
I’m going to be sick.
As Marcella begins going into detail about her personal method of torture, I bolt out of the room, through the kitchen, into the washroom. No one tries to stop me, which is a blessing because I fling myself onto the cool tile and wrap my arms around the toilet as soon as I cross the threshold.
“Raye?” T.K. calls from outside the door a handful of minutes or hours later. “Are you alright?”
“Stay the hell away from me!” I yell right before another round of vomit works its way up my throat.
Footsteps gather outside the bathroom door. “T.K., we all know you can’t manipulate her, but it’s never been a problem for us. Whatever Marcella did, it broke something inside her mind. She’s too big a risk,” Markus says. Hours–I have been in the washroom for hours.
“You’re not touching her, Markus. I don’t care what she knows, you go near her and I’ll kill you. I’ll kill anyone who tries. You know I will.”
“Be reasonable, Taylor. It’s her or us. This isn’t a choice we should even be discussing.”
“Do you think her mother won’t notice when she doesn’t come home?”
“From what I’ve heard, I don’t think she’ll notice if she comes back different,” Marcella says, joining the debate over my life. They are out there, mere feet away, discussing my future while I’m stuck wrapped around a toilet, unable to defend myself or argue my case. I throw up again, wondering how my body has anything left to give.
“But you can’t,” Chane says confidently. “Haven’t you been listening? That Leichen tried to occupy her tonight. It couldn’t. What T.K. did to her when he saved her from that train permanently altered her. I know you’ve all wonder why he can’t touch her mind. I would bet my life there’s a part of him in there, acting like a shield of sorts. What happen tonight must have strengthened it. It’s like Marcella put it on high alert, like Raye’s own little guard dog.”
The house goes silent; the only sound is my body dry heaving as my stomach finally decides it is empty. If what Chane is saying is true, a piece of T.K. is attached to me. Inside of me. I wish I had something left to throw up.
I feel violated.
“That’s an interesting theory, actually,” Darien says. “T.K., you said Raye, the conductor, and his son were the only people for miles around that night. Correct?”
“Yeah. We were in the middle of a forest. I clung to the other body for as long as I could, but there was no saving it. After Raye left, I found the others. The conductor was already gone, but his son…” His voice trails off, ashamed of the rest. “What does it matter? I’m here. We can’t clip off parts of ourselves like that.”
“Says who?” Chane replies. I can tell she has spent a lot of time thinking about this. She sounds proud she has such valuable insight to bring to the discussion. “I know I’ve never experienced it, but you have all said that when a body dies, it feels like you’re suffocating. T.K., if your old body was damaged so extremely, and your mind was further strained with the effort of altering Raye’s, it makes sense you would have been so vulnerable, a part of you may have unknowingly attached to the closest host it could find. It obviously wouldn’t have been enough to take hold completely, but it could have been enough to construct a wall. You protect the mind of your host, preventing it from being tampered with or stolen. That’s exactly what’s happening to Raye. Can’t you see that?”
I know Chane is right. The way I felt immediately whole when T.K. waltzed into my life; how he calms me like no one ever has, including Lindsay. We were bonded together that night, and I haven’t been the same since. Not only had he shaped my future by manipulating my mind, he claimed my heart by fusing to my body. I never had a choice. From the moment he decided to throw himself in front of that train, our lives have been entwined.
I stand up, turning on the faucet so I can rinse out my mouth. I miss the rest of their conversation, but when I open the door, they are all standing around the frame, blocking my path. I push through Darien and Markus, making my way to the front door. I know they aren’t going to hurt me. They may not agree with T.K., but they won’t stand against him.
T.K. and I are bonded. Our relationship, our feelings, they may not be real, but they are tangible nonetheless. T.K. won’t hurt me. Of that, I am certain.
“What did you do with the body?” I ask, turning around with my hand on the front door knob. Darien’s body. I want to know where it is–what he made Mitch’s body do to it. “Your old one,” I clarify, gazing into Mitch’s eyes. I’m amazed by how steady my voice is. I finally have the upper hand, and each person in the room knows it.
“We burned it in the Palliative Care wing of the hospital.”
The fire was arson, after all. No wonder they never identified the body. No one reported Darien missing. The real victim was walking around in broad daylight, perfectly alive.
“You make me sick.”
I walk through the front door out into the night.
I was right in thinking no one would stop me.
∆∆∆
It is morning when I finally reach home.
Mom is waking up, preparing for another early Saturday at the office. I’m extremely tempted to tell her about the fire, but I don’t want to involve her anymore than she already is. T.K. won’t let anyone hurt me. I don’t know if the same applies to my mother. I doubt it does.
“Are you just getting in?” Mom asks mid-yawn, her auburn hair still tied behind her head. Without her contact lenses in, she likely can’t see how much of a mess I am.
“Yeah,” I reply, picking Oswald up off the floor and carrying him to my roo
m. He has grown tremendously over a few short months. More cat than kitten, I hold him to my chest, needing the support only another being can provide. It is amazing what can change in such a short amount of time.
“I’d lecture you, but I actually like T.K.”
My face is smooth as I answer. “We broke up. And we both know you don’t have time for a lecture. I’m going to bed.”
I’m up the stairs with my bedroom door closed before she has a chance to think up what to say. She probably doesn’t know how to react based on my contradicting words and tone. I am stone. I will not cry. I will not react at all. If I do, they will win.
Dropping Oswald on my bed, I turn for the bathroom. I need to wash off the layers of betrayal, vomit, and dirt coating my skin. The night lasted months, yet I’m not remotely tired. My mind is wired, filled with the faces of the Knights.
T.K.’s look of horror.
Chane’s look of shame.
Darien’s look of indifference.
Marcella’s look of twisted joy.
Image after image floats through my mind until the water runs cold in the shower, forcing me out. When I return to my room, T.K. is sitting on my bed, Oswald in his lap. His face has completely healed since the attack earlier that night. Another alien perk, I guess.
“Get out.” My voice is calm, but laced with venom.
“Raye, please,” he begs, setting Os down on the floor. He takes the opportunity to sprint down the stairs as I close the door. Wise beyond his years, that cat.
I tighten my robe around myself and peer out the window. Mom’s car is long gone. “She was gone before I came in, don’t worry.”
“I’m not worried about a thing.” I lift up the sheets of my bed, dusting them off before climbing in. I’m still not tired, but I hope if I fall asleep, T.K. will leave.
“Don’t do that. Don’t act like you don’t give a crap. I know you better than that.”
“Oh, yes, I almost forgot. There’s a part of you inside me, as twisted as that is.” I tug the covers out from under his body, wrapping them tightly around myself like a barrier.
“I had no idea. Not until Chane suggested it. You never told me about the dreams.” His eyes are accusatory, as though I am the betrayer. I guess Chane told him about my twisted dreams, the warning bells that went off in my mind that I so stupidly ignored.
“I should have listened. I knew something was wrong the moment I saw you.” I say it to cause him pain, to see the hurt flash in his eyes. Instead, I am met with confusion.
“She didn’t tell you?” His voice is a whisper, his eyes wide with trepidation. “What they are?”
“They were dreams, T.K.; my mind warning me to stay away from you. It’s my own fault. I never listen to warnings, not even my own.” I’m bitter, reflecting on each instance of ignorance. Each dream was a chance to protect myself, a chance I willfully ignored.
“Raye, those dreams aren’t yours. They never were.”
“What are you talking about? Of course they’re mine.”
T.K. looks more uncomfortable than I have ever seen him. The sight causes unease to seep into my blood. “I dream about it often. What I am, who I’ve been. Death...it’s not pleasant,” he mumbles, looking at his hands curled in his lap rather than at me. “I never chose to take a body I didn’t need. I’m not Marcella. I waited until there were no options left, until my body was gone. Sometimes I clung on longer than I should have.”
I can tell we are both remembering the evening on the train tracks. The true moment we met; when he clung to a corpse long enough to manipulate me. The memory brings no warmth.
“I don’t dream often,” T.K. continues, shaking off the painful memory. “When I do, they’re only ever about one of two things. My deaths and you.” Finally, he raises his eyes to meet mine, hoping I will understand before he has to speak anymore aloud.
T.K. and I on the beach, the intimate moments we shared in the deep recesses of my subconscious. I feel the heat rise over my skin as I remember the passionate dreams I believed were mine alone.
“How?” I seethe, speaking through my teeth.
“I don’t know. It’s no secret to my family that I dream of my deaths. It’s not uncommon among those of us who have experienced it. The memories haunt us, like they would anyone. When you told Chane about the dreams you were having, she knew they were mine. That you were seeing what I was seeing. It’s what led her to think there may be a connection between us.”
Bugs are crawling over my skin, climbing in through my pores and gnawing at my tendons. The violation is unending. My thoughts, my memories, and now my dreams; nothing left is my own, and if it is, I will never be able to tell the difference.
“How could you do this to me?” I gasp, feeling a panic attack form in the base of my throat. My eyes are pooling, threatening to overflow. I will not let him have this as well. I will not give him the satisfaction of breaking me.
“It wasn’t a choice I consciously made.” He is defensive, his voice getting thicker as my wall grows stronger.
“Saving me was a choice!” I spit, turning to face him. “You had no right to involve yourself; to violate me like that!”
T.K. flinches at my choice of words, but when he speaks his voice is solid, woven with determination. “No matter what you say, I will never, never, regret saving you. I would sacrifice the world for you, Raye, and that was before we even met.”
“You didn’t know me, T.K.! You certainly don’t know me now if you thought I would be okay with finding out you lied–for months. All of this has been a lie.”
“I never–”
“Never what? Meant for me to find out? That doesn’t make this better!” When I look at him, all I see is red. My heart is pounding in my chest from the adrenaline. “You can’t pick and choose what to be honest about. Relationships don’t work that way. How can you believe we had something real when it was built on lies?”
I can tell the moment T.K. takes note of my resolve. I watch as the hope fades from his eyes, his shoulders drooping enough to notice.
“You stole my memories,” I say. “You took away my right to know, and you manipulated me into seeing what you wanted me to see. You deprived me of any choice I may have had. I will never forgive you for that.”
“Saving you changed my life.” He is no longer pleading. “It gave me something to work toward; it showed me who I wanted to be. Raye, I hated myself for what I am. The moment I saved you, I knew I could do better. I could be better. It’s what led me to Markus. I saw how much pain there was inside of you, and if I could convince you to walk away from that, I knew I could walk away from my pain as well. I would stay awake at night thinking about you. What happened to you, if you ended up okay. When I saw you that day in the grocery store… Raye, my heart stopped. I knew you the second I saw you. Your frown, the way you smelled. It was like I was finally home.”
“That’s because of what you did to me. Not who I am. I am not who you’ve made me. You think you know me because part of you is trapped in here,” I say, holding my hand over my chest, “but that means nothing. You can’t fix me into the person you want me to be. That’s not what love is.” The tears are starting to build behind my lids again, but I refuse to show him how weak I feel.
“You think I love you because we’re connected?” T.K. is not pretending to be anything less than destroyed. “I love you because you’re the strongest person I know. I love you because when I saw you on those train tracks, you made me feel human for the first time in my existence. You were so sad, so ripped apart. I didn’t want to fix you. I wanted to be there for you. I still want to be there for you. Please don’t push me away.”
“You pushed yourself away.”
“Raye, I love you. Nothing changes that.”
“Leave, T.K. I’m done.” I turn my back to him, ending the conversation.
“I’m never going to stop fighting for you. I’m always going to be here.”
Finally, he goes, taking us with him
.
CHAPTER 29
I spend the weekend sleeping, trying to push the enlightenment from my mind. It isn’t that I don’t want to know. Now that I have the information, I never want to be without it–I can’t be without it. But I wish with every part of me there had never been anything to learn in the first place.
I’m not sure if honesty would have saved T.K. and I, but at least I would have known what I was involving myself in before it was too late. No matter how hard I try, I can’t turn off the fact that I loved him, and that I miss him, even after everything.
My shift at the clinic proves a gut-wrenching distraction. Lindsay is doing better; she isn’t conscious, but she does have stable vitals. I spend most of my Saturday afternoon sitting next to her bed, pouring my heart out. It helps that she isn’t awake to see me cry.
When I see Dr. Wright, my heart constricts with the knowledge she has lost a son and will never know. She looks at Darien with the same love and affection she showed Mitch. I hurt for him, wherever he is, that she doesn’t notice the difference. I do not know what happens after you die, but I hope, for him, that death is truly the end.
It took years for me to forgive Mitch for what he did to me, and it breaks my heart it was only after his death I realized I missed him as my friend.
When school comes Monday morning, I hold my head high and act indifferent. No one is suicidal enough to ask about my break up or about Lindsay, even though everyone has already heard. Gossip is like fire, spreading and spreading until the world is consumed.
The Knights, including T.K., keep a safe distance from me. Whether it is out of fear of what I might say should they upset me, or out of respect for what I demanded, I don’t know. Marcella stops me only once to ask about Lindsay.
“Stay away from her. I know you’re the reason she’s sick. I don’t know how much you’ve messed with her mind, but it stops now. Do you understand me?”
“Think what you want about me, Raye, but I love Lindsay. I’m not going to lose her because you’re suddenly invincible.”
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