by Jes Drew
She blinks at me. “We wait.”
That’s what I was afraid of.
Biting my lip for the millionth time today, I begin to pace.
~~~
Finally, after pacing around the room countless times, the cell door re-opens. Wanda steps in, carrying a tray and being flanked by two guards.
Faith pushes herself further into the corner and takes its form or turns invisible or whatever it is that she does.
I watch as Wanda puts the tray- which contains barely enough colorless food for one person- on the ground.
“Um, that’s only enough for one of us,” I point out.
“Yes,” Wanda agrees. “You. Two is going to be undergoing some medical procedures this afternoon.”
The corner whimpers.
Suddenly, a guard reaches into Faith’s corner and grabs a part of the wall.
Faith screams- a sound that tears at my heart and echoes in my mind- and the wall becomes Faith again.
“No!” she screams. “No more chemicals! No!” Her face is one of absolute terror- made all the more terrible by the fact that this is the first emotion I’ve seen her display.
Wanda, however, stands unaffected.
The guard yanks Faith out of her corner, and the other guard grabs onto her other arm.
“Please!” Faith begs. “Not again! Not again”
Wanda gestures for the guards to follow her out of the room.
“Wait!” I call.
Wanda pauses.
“Take me instead,” I say. “Let her stay here. I’ll go. In her stead. Take me.”
Wanda smiles- a cold and scary thing. “Don’t worry- you’ll have your chance to test the Cure tomorrow. And today, you can learn this valuable lesson: you can’t save everyone.” Wanda turns away.
“No!” Faith screams again.
“No!” I echo, jumping up. Then I move to leap out of my room, but suddenly, my ankle explodes in electrifying pain that crawls up my body. I crumble and the cell door is slammed in my face.
The pain in my ankle immediately ceases, but it’s too late: Faith is gone. I couldn’t save her.
“Two. Four. Six. Eight,” Kyle calls.
I don’t answer him. I can’t. A racking sob convulses through me. Then another. And another.
“Charisa?” Kyle says. “Are you okay? Charisa?”
I take several deep breaths. “I-I’m fine. How’s Tim?”
“They took him.”
“Faith too. We have to get them out of here. We have to get us out of here.”
“Agreed. I can access a key card when we need it; that won’t be a problem. But we will need to figure out how to get out of this bunker. Once we find it, we’re out of here. Hear me, Chrissie? We’re going to get out of this. Together.”
“Together,” I agree. Then the events of the day hit me like a wall and I pass out cold.
Chapter Eight: Emily
“Christopher!” I scream, running after him.
But no matter how hard I run, he keeps outpacing me, even though he’s walking backwards to gloat at me.
“I don’t need you,” he calls back, his face twisted in the same cruelty as I saw when he yelled at his father in his feverish state.
“But I need you.”
His lips twitching into a sneer. “I know.”
I smack into someone and stumble backwards, landing on my tailbone. Hard. My eyes jerk open and I find myself staring up at a figure in the darkness.
Despair is standing in the rain before me, a leer in his face as he tells me that Christopher’s fate is irrevocable. Then he steps forward to kill my sister and me.
Crying out, I crawl backwards across the floor until my head hits the wall, knocking my brains around.
The more I stare at the dark figure, the more it comes into focus. She comes into focus.
Violet is wandering around in circles, moaning in her sleep.
“Violet?” I say.
She doesn’t answer.
“Are you… sleepwalking?”
She still doesn’t answer.
I push myself up. Then, keeping my eyes on Violet, I stumble across the wall to the light, which I flick on.
Violet freezes and then blinks rapidly. “What’s that light doing on? Can’t a girl get any sleep?”
Blinking, I watch as she walks back to her bed and slides under her covers. And promptly falls back to sleep.
Man, I wish I had somnambulism like that. As it is, this headache is probably going to haunt me the whole night.
~~~
The morning greets me with brightness, noise, and a clanging headache that combats the severe exhaustion within.
A mental list of the few other times I’ve been this tired:
(1) Once, when I was seven, and we were living in Texas, we had to hide in a storm shelter because it was a tornado warning and I didn’t sleep a wink.
(2) Every night of our vacation in Disney World- but it was worth it.
(3) Once, when I was in seventh grade, I stayed up all night to study for the big end of the year tests in hopes that I could skip my last year of Junior High. No such luck.
(4) My second to last night on the Island after finishing our raft… and dragging it across the Island;
When I see through the headache that Christopher is waiting for me in the cafeteria, I drop my gaze. When was the last time we even kissed before yesterday? New Year’s?
“Look,” we begin in unison.
I glance up. He smiles warmly and shakes his head.
“I’m sorry I kissed you,” I blurt.
Violet snorts.
“And I’m sorry I overreacted.”
Donald slides in across from Violet, his hair a wreck, as he glaces between us. “Overreacted? You?”
Violet nods. “They’re the king and queen of prudes.”
“I was just worried about you,” Christopher says before glancing at our audience and then turning back to me. “Can we go somewhere more private?”
Donald whistles. “Doesn’t sound like prudes to me.”
Willing myself not to blush, I nod and stand up before following Christopher to a quieter side of the cafeteria.
“What is it?” I whisper, even though the noise of the cafeteria is enough to drown out our words anyway. “Is it about my tankini? Because I already knew I was a prude when I bought it.”
“No, no.” He smooths my hair behind my ear. “There’s nothing wrong with your modesty. It’s just that… the way you were acting earlier. It wasn’t… you.”
I purse my lips. I want to argue, but when I think back, it did seem… irrational. And I can’t think much deeper into it with my head aching the way it is.
He bends over to look me in the eyes. Analyze them. “Does your head hurt?”
“Yeah. I hit it last night-”
Christopher frowns. “How?”
“Long story. Why did you think I have a headache?”
“Because you keep wincing. Especially when you look toward the light fixtures.”
“Oh.”
He straightens up. “Emily, I think you might be experiencing a hangover.”
I jerk up to face him. “What?!”
“I thought maybe...” He shakes his head. “When you kissed me, I tasted something strong.”
“You think I got drunk? I’ve never tasted alcohol in my life!”
“I’m not saying it was necessarily alcohol, and I’m not saying you did it on purpose.”
My stomach drops. “You… you think someone drugged me?”
“I don’t know, but we’re going to be more careful. Monitor each other. See if it happens again.”
I feel tears spring to my eyes. “I don’t want to get addicted!”
He wraps his arms around me and holds me tight. “I won’t let you. I’m going to watch over you. We’re in this together.”
~~~
I glance at Violet as we walk to art class. Do I mention the drugging possibility? Or hold off until we find mor
e evidence.
Violet swings her backpack around so that it hits the nose of a boy who was standing too close, gawking at her.
He cries out and steps back as his nose erupts in blood. “Ugh!”
“Oops,” Violet says without looking up. “Didn’t see you there.”
I give him an apologetic look as he moves toward the men’s restrooms.
Yeah, I’m going to wait on any heart-to-hearts with my sleepwalking roommate. Or at least start with talking about our mutual disorder.
Chewing my lip, I step into class and slide into a seat just as the teacher starts talking.
“Yesterday, you used your imaginations to make anything you wanted,” Miss Hernández says. “Now- and until the end of the week- I want you to focus your creative power on something more specific: a self-portrait. Be creative. Express yourself- literally.”
Well, that’s not bad. If I weren’t so tired from night terrors and scared of being drugged.
I just want this day to be over.
~~~
Christopher frowns as he studies my face. “Well, you don’t seem to have picked up anything from your first three classes.”
I nod as I take a chair for lunch. “Three stops down, one to go.”
“The fishiest of them all,” Christopher adds.
Groaning, I look heavenward.
Then Mickey jumps into the chair across from me. “So, guess what!”
Donald jumps into the chair next to Christopher, his face every bit as animated as hers. “What?!”
Violet takes her seat as she quietly ignores them. Destiny does the same, only her movements seem less snarky and more… robotic.
But Mickey isn’t deterred as she glances between us, her eyes wide. “There are rumors of an exchange student program. Supposedly the best students of the Harvard branch of the Yin Program will swap out with the best students here. Sounds cool, right?”
Donald grunt-laughs. “In the universe where school is cool.”
Christopher raises an eyebrow. “Why are you even here?”
“Parents made me.” He slumps back in chair and sighs deeply.
Violet tilts her chair back. “Me too. It was this or some other posh school that kept me out of Mom’s hair.” Lifting a black and red manicure, she nods.
“Well I had to beg my dad to let me come,” Mickey says. “How about you, Destiny?”
Destiny blinks. “My parents and I were in mutual agreement about my coming here.” Her tone of voice makes the entire conversation seem boring.
Therapy almost seems like an escape
~~~
Dr. Earnestine folds his hands together. “You haven’t slept well, have you, Miss Rogers?”
I glance down at the essences water I half-hope is drugged (the perfect excuse to get out of therapy- I could just say, ‘Mom, Dad, I tried. But the shrink was getting me high so I had to go’). “Why do you say that?”
“You have dark circles under your eyes, which aren’t open as wide as they were yesterday, you’re moving slower, and you sighed in relief when you sat down.”
“Oh.” I take another sip of water. “Well, how can I argue against evidence like that?”
He leans forward, his handsome face all kindness. “Miss Rogers, what is keeping you up at night?”
I lick my lips. I almost want to throw Violet under the bus. Almost.
But I’d hate to be thrown under the bus like that. “I have night terrors, sir.”
“Ah.” He leans back. “I see.”
“You do?”
“There are many causes to night terrors,” he adds. “Did either of your parents suffer from any kind of parasomonias?”
I shake my head.
“I didn’t think so. And you’re not taking any new medications?”
“No medications at all.”
He nods. “That leaves several other possible causes, but I doubt it has anything do do with a personality disorder or even a borderline personality disorder.”
My eyes widen and I almost drop my cup.
“You are perfectly sane, I assure you. It seems more like a GAD or a PTSD issue to me.”
I sigh. “PTSD- wait, GAD?”
He smiles, revealing perfectly even and unnaturally white teeth. “Generalized anxiety disorder.”
“Oh, well it could be some of that too.”
“Maybe.” His smile deepens and he leans forward again. “You know what I subscribe for you?”
“I’m not taking medication-”
“I’m not subscribing medication. Hypnotherapy would do the job much more effectively.”
I frown. “No.”
“I know it sounds frightening, but it really isn’t-”
Shaking my head, I stand up, keeping my cup in hand so I can sneak it out to Christopher, who I already see waiting in the hallway. “I’m turning it down for the same reason I turned down medication.”
“And why is that, Miss Rogers.”
I turn to leave. “Because I like to be in control of my all my faculties at all times.”
“And are you in control during your night terrors?”
My entire body tenses. Because he’s right. I’m not.
I’m a danger to myself and others.
“I suppose we’ll just have to hope psychotherapy does the job effectively then, Miss Rogers.” Dr. Earnestine is suddenly in front of me, opening the door for me. “Good day, Miss Rogers.”
I can’t escape soon enough.
Christopher falls into step beside me. “How did it go?”
I thrust the cup into his hands. “He made me talk about my night terrors.”
“That is kind of why you’re there.”
“But I don’t want it to be. I don’t want to be there at all!”
He squeezes my shoulder. “I know. But the unfortunate truth of our circumstances is that we live in a fallen world and have to deal with its consequences.”
“But why can’t I be safe in my own mind.” To my shame, tears flood my eyes.
Christopher moves in front of me, making me come to a stop. Then he gently tips my chin up to face him, revealing the unfortunate truth of my tears.
But it also exposes his own truth. Worry and unease swirls in his blue eyes.
I pull away. “I’m sorry for making you worry-”
“It’s not just your night terrors that worries me.”
“What?” I turn back to him confusions.
And see just how grim his jaw is set. “I learned something distressing while you were with your therapist.”
Goosebumps run down my limbs at the tone of his voice. “What?”
“A student has gone missing.”
Chapter Nine
Christopher Williams watches as Emily disappears into the female dorm house and prays she will be safe there.
Safe from whoever took the solitary student in the room next to his in the dark of the night and left no trace.
Safe from whoever had the power to cover it up so effectively that when Christopher brought this to light to the administration he was told that the boy had had a family emergency.
Never mind that the boy was raised in foster care and never adopted.
Against his better judgment, Christopher turns from the dorm to make the trek to his own before it got dark.
Donald barely looks up from the television when Christopher steps in, which would make him such easy pickings to whoever is out there.
“Hey,” Christopher calls.
“Hey,” Donald repeats.
“Did you ever hear the kid next door come back?”
Donald yawns before changing the channel. “Nope.”
Christopher kicks off his shoes before moving to his suitcase. “Seriously, that doesn’t bother you at all?”
“Nope. He’ll show up again just like the last guy.”
Freezing in his tracks, Christopher turns to Donald. “Last guy?”
“Mhmm. A few of us were unlucky enough to be dropped off here a whole wee
kend before classes started. And one of the guys- Joe I think it was- disappeared the first day without a word of warning.” He reaches down and pulls up a bowl of popcorn.
Christopher waits for him to continue, but when he doesn’t, he says, “And?”
“And then he showed up just before classes started.”
“Did he say anything about where he was?”
“Said he had to go somewhere to talk about a special scholarship or something. Didn’t strike me as the scholarly type, but whatevs.”
“Did he seem… different?”
Donald shrugs. “Barely knew the guy. But there was this one thing...”
Christopher leans forward, ready for whatever strange truth Donald was going to throw at him.
“Before hand, Joe was bragging about never following any rules but his own and all that. Dunno all the details- I was barely listening. But when he came back...”
“Yes?”
“Well, I only seem him from a distance now, but even from that distance, I never did see a more straight-laced rule keeper.” Donald laughs and shakes his head at this before turning back to the television.
Christopher blinks, soaking it all in. How Donald could be so calm about something that was obviously so wrong is beyond him. There is obviously something very, very dangerous going on.
Then again, danger is an uncomfortable fact, and one of those truths that are just too much about some people.
Not that Christopher is going to stop trying. “Donald, I think we need to be very, very careful.”
Donald glances up. “What? Are you actually freaked out about this?”
Christopher pushes himself up to his feet. “I have seen a lot of things that seem like something out of an adventure novel or something science fiction. And believe me, that science isn’t so fictional anymore.”
Chapter Ten: Charisa
I wake up to the sound of the door squeaking open. Sitting up, I blink as Wanda pushes Faith into the room.
The door slides shut and Faith, shaking ever so slightly, crawls into her bed.
Pushing myself to the edge despite the whole height thing, I try to catch sight of her. “Are you okay?”