Dark and Twisted (16 page)

“We need to call the police.” Liv paces my bedroom floor, making a figure eight around the stack of books and piles of dirty clothes.

“And say what? While breaking and entering, we were chased by someone. We can’t say that, or we will both be in trouble. It will go on your permanent record,” I remind her.

“Permanent record or not, we have to tell them about Jaxson. We cannot let him get away with hurting some poor girl. What if that was him in the school? What if he caught us?”

I wish she would sit down because she’s putting me more on edge. “Don’t you think I was thinking that?” I snap.

Her face falls, and I know she is only trying to help.

“I know it’s the right thing to do. I just need to make sure I have all the evidence I can get before I say something.” I flop back against my pillow and squeeze my eyes shut, attempting to make everything that happened disappear. I wish I could go back to when things where easy, and I was just that awkward girl who had a crush on a boy from a distance.

The bed shifts as Liv plops down next to me. “Eden?”

Her warm breath tickles my cheek, and for the first time tonight I feel safe. “Yeah?” I whisper, keeping my eyes closed.

“Promise me you will stay away from Jaxson? I’m scared that he might try to hurt you.”

I don’t promise because I don’t think I can.

I am dreaming the same dream, wearing the same amethyst gauzy dress again. Dead girls grab at me pulling me down to their watery grave. I gasp for breath, desperate to get away, but only suck in dirty pond water. Someone wraps their hand around my wrist, pulling me to the surface.

The pond solidifies to ice under me, but legs instantly go weak under me. The person holds me up, as I grasp at them, pulling myself closer. I’m terrified that the ground will give way again and I will be drowning once more.

“I’ve got you.”

His voice vibrates against my chest. I don’t have to look up to know who is holding me. I know once I do look, it will be into his pale face and those glowing blue eyes.

“Jaxson,” I breathe.

“I got you, Ace.”

“Are you going to hurt me?”

Pain fills his face and his eyes dim. “I don’t want to hurt you. I never want anything to hurt you, but sometimes pain is the only way to protect those that we love.”

His voice is beautiful, filling me with a sense of calm. I lay my head against his chest, listening to the fast, rhythmic sound of his beating heart. Touching him is so different from touching anyone else. Cold electricity sparks across his skin, seeping into me until every cell in my body is charged.

“I don’t understand what is happening,” I admit.

“It was never meant for you to understand.”

He talks in riddles, confusing me more, but I don’t mind as long as we are together like this. We sway me in a slow dance as the snow falls heavy around us. I tilt my head back, opening my mouth to catch the falling flakes on my tongue. His fingers press firmly against the small of my back. Pulling me closer, pressing the tip of his nose to my collarbone and trailing it up to my ear.

“Even in a dream you smell amazing,” he murmurs, his voice raspy.

The need to touch him is overwhelming. I allow my fingers to wander up to his face, tracing the outline of his strong jaw and up to the hollows of his cheeks. I touch the soft folds of his eyelids, and his eyes flutter shut, letting me explore them. The glow seeps out from under his dark lashes, casting deep shadows along his cheekbones.

“What are you?” My question is as innocent as it feels.

Stepping back from me and lacing his hand in mine, he guides me off the ice to the forest that edges the pond. We are hidden in the shadows of the black skeletal trees.

“There is not much time left.”

His fingers dance along my forearm, and everywhere he touches, white intricate patterns appear on my skin as if they are being painted on. I watch in amazement as his touch sends a prickling sensation under my skin, like tiny needles or the sting of ice on warm skin. Frost. He is painting me in frost. What I’d thought was a pattern is really tiny snowflakes weaved close together. His eyes lit up brighter than before.

“You’re right, I’m not from here.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

His hand stills. “I don’t want you mixed up in this. If you know what I am, it will only pull you in deeper than you already are. It will only put you in more danger than you already are in.”

“In danger of what?” I beg, shivering from his words.

He lets go of my arm, and I watch as the mark he made melts into my skin, disappearing. All that is left of his beautiful painting is a cold sensation, as a reminder of him.

Reaching around his neck, he unties a leather necklace with a smooth black stone in the shape of a heart covered in white spots—they look like tiny snowflakes trapped inside. A thin iron band is wrapped tightly around it, holding it in place.

He drops the necklace over my head, his fingers catching the stone before it lands against my chest. He holds it in his fist, and with his other hand, he gently brushes his thumb across my lips as if trying to erase the impression of the kiss I almost shared with Cardelian earlier. Guilt sits heavy in the pit of my stomach, but I have no reason to feel this way. Jaxson and I are nothing. He thinks I’m a freak, and I am only a girl with a demented crush on the boy that threatened me. But he is touching me now with such gentleness I can’t imagine why I ever wanted to kiss anyone else.

“Promise me you will never take it off,” he says in a whisper.

My eyes flutter shut as his cold fingers press against my skin, sending shivers of delight through my body. I would promise him the moon right now if he wanted me to.

“I promise,” I whisper against his fingers. And I mean it with everything I have in me. If it means that much to him, I will never take it off.

He stops touching me, and I open my eyes to gaze into his.

“Never take it off, even if I’m the one asking you to.”

I nod my head, slightly confused, but it doesn’t matter anymore. He drops the stone against my chest, and it sits perfectly between my breasts.

He steps away from me, and the distance is almost unbearable. “You need to put this under your pillow. It will stop us from entering your dreams.” He hands me a small leather pouch. “It is iron and Rowen ash, it will keep you safe.”

I look at him through my bangs to see if he is joking, but he is not, he seems to grow more and more agitated by the second. His face is hard and his jaw set, he could be a statue.

I want to move closer to him, to hear him whisper words that make me shiver, to touch me again as if I’m something precious to him. “Okay.” My voice trembles and my chest aches. I am not sure I want him to stop coming to me in my dreams. Isn’t drowning in them worth this? Worth being close to him like this.

“Jaxson don’t go.”

I step closer to him and he stops. I lean into him again, and he pulls me closer until I’m pressed to him.

“Never let me go.”

His presses mouth to the crown of my head. It feels like a goodbye, like this is the last time I will see him. It can’t be because I have so much to tell him, so many questions to ask, but the words float away like tiny butterflies, flying up into the sky until they turn to snowflakes and flutter back to the earth.

“Ace, you need to wake up,” he whispers.

I grab his shirt, shaking my head no. “I don’t want to.” I swallow the lump growing in my throat. When I wake up, this will be over, and the feel of him will be lost—faded to the place that dreams go.

“You must or you will be stuck here between dreams,” he says.

That is exactly what I want to do—stay in this dream world with him. I never want to wake up.

He lets me go, and I’m falling fast, everything is dark. Emptiness I have never felt before fills me. My limbs flail out, tangling in the dress as it wraps around me, becoming tighter and tighter with each exhale. I reach out, trying to grasp something to stop me from falling. I grasp for Jaxson, but he is no longer there. An ach spreads through me, and each beat of my heart is painful.

I flail about, trying to free my arms and legs from the tangle of sheets. My hair is wrapped around my neck, choking me. I grasp at it, trying to unravel it from around my neck, but it is not my hair that is chocking me, it is a thin leather cord. I bolt up, and something hard and cold slides down my shirt. My hands trace the lump that sits on my chest.

It can’t be. It was just a dream.
I tug at my collar and stare down at the smooth black stone wrapped in iron. I lift it up, and it shudders under my touch. It is as cold as Jaxson’s skin. My stomach drops, a flutter fills my chest.
How?

Still holding the stone in shock, I shake Liv with my free hand. “Get up.”

She groans, rolling over. She still has on the clothes from last night—black leggings and a pink peasant top. Only Liv would be a fashion conscious criminal. Her red hair is matted to the side of her head.

Shaking her again a little harder, “Liv, wake up, I need to show you something.”

She groans, reaching for the blankets, and with a hard kick to the thigh, pushes me out of the bed. “Coffee. Now,” she croaks.

I drop the stone and it thumps lightly against my chest. “This is serious, Liv! I need to show you something now.” I stand up, scrambling for the necklace around my neck. “Look.”

Liv opens one eye before squeezing it shut. Her foot swings out again searching for me, but I move out the way before she can make contact.

“You woke me up to look at some tacky necklace.” She moans. “Coffee,” she demands again.

“But I didn’t have this on when I went to bed, and I woke up with it on.”

The low snores coming from her tell me I’m going to get nowhere with Liv. Besides, what am I going to say to her? Jaxson gave it to me in a dream? That sounds like a one-way ticket to the closest loony bin. Laughter bubbles up from my throat. I’m crazy. I’m bat crap crazy. Boys with glowing eyes, and now a gift from a dream.

I don’t see any other choice so I go downstairs and make coffee. At least, before Liv has me committed, I will get my caffeine fix.

I find Essie is in the kitchen, coffee already made. She is humming to herself.

“Good morning,” I call to her, but she doesn’t look up.

I make my way over to the stained coffee pot and poor a cup of the liquid gold into a mug. Dad used to say, ‘There is nothing a good cup of coffee can’t fix.’ I sit down at the counter and take a sip of the hot liquid.

“What do you have there?” I ask, noticing she has something cupped in her hand.

She looks up at me, beaming. “It’s a gift.” She holds out her cupped hand, in it is what looks like ash.

“What is it?” I ask already knowing the answer

“Rowen, it will keep you safe. Aliens cannot use their powers against you if you put it under your pillow. It will stop them from entering your dreams.”

All the hair on my arms stand up as I stare are her. “Where did you get from?” But even as I ask, I know it came the same person I got the necklace from. She reaches over and pats my cheek with her small, cold hand.

“He gave it to me last night in my dream.”

It feels like the floor is pulled out from under me, and I’m tumbling, like Alice down a rabbit hole with no bottom in sight.

“Who gave you what?” Liv walks in and goes immediately to the coffee pot. Her hair is now wrapped up in a high bun, and she has on one of my T-shirts.

“Maybe you didn’t hear my request for coffee when you so rudely woke me up.” She leans her hip against the counter, sipping on her coffee.

Essie stands up, humming to herself again, and leaves the kitchen without another word.

“Sorry, I didn’t realize you were the Queen of England,” I snap.

She raises a copper eyebrow at me. I am not in the mood for the banter, not only did Jaxson somehow manage to enter my dream, but he also entered Essie’s.

“Some BFF you are! You didn’t even come to my coronation.” As if noting my somber mood, Liv clears her throat. “Well, let me see what it is you were trying to show me.”

Swallowing the acid rising up my throat, I pull the necklace out from under my shirt. She lifts it out of my hand and examines it closer.

“Where did you say you got it?” she asks.

I’m not about to tell her from Jaxson in my dream, so my mind trips over excuses.

“I … ummm…I found it.” I manage to spit out.

“You found it?” She narrows her eyes at me.

I yank the stone out of her hand and replace it securely under my shirt. When it touches my bare skin, it pulsates against my chest like a tiny heartbeat, and I let out a yelp.

Liv jumps. “What? What happened?”

“School. We are late for school,” I blurt, my hand fluttering to the cover the steady beat. “I know we already missed first period, and we will miss second if we don’t go soon.” My head is spinning, and I’m back in the rabbit hole.

“Well, go get changed. I’m not being seen with you in those clothes! And brush your hair and teeth,” she calls after me.

I change into a jean skirt and a purple unicorn shirt, tucking the necklace securely underneath. The moment it comes in contact with my skin it hums alive with a steady beat.

Liv sneers at me when she sees what I have on, but we are already late and that tarnishes her school record, so she doesn’t argue.

The ride to school gives me the time to conceive a plan. The only way to prove that Jaxson was the one that attacked me is to find Abigail. Liv shuts off the truck and begins to grab her stuff.

“I’m not going to school.”

“What? You have to.” Liv protests.

“I have to find out what happened to Abigail. I also need your truck.”

“But you don’t have your license yet.” She furrows her brows.

“Liv, please,” I practically cry.

“Don’t get pulled over,” she warns dangling the keys in front of me.

“I will be back before school is over,” I say grabbing the keys.

“You better be,” she slams the door shut.

I watch her walk in to the building before I slide over and start the truck. I’m too close to the truth to stop now.

###

I don’t know what I was expecting, I guess I thought that it would be a tall, deteriorated gothic manor with spindled towers in front of a piercing the moon, and people wrapped in strait jackets screaming from the barred windows. Instead, I walk through sliding doors to what could be any office lobby. Inside, it is warm and bright with potted plants that set on oak end tables next to overstuffed chairs. On the beige wall is a large poster of a family with big words that read, ‘Choosing Bright Horizons for your family care is a step in the right direction.’
I wonder which one of them is crazy?
Where are the painted walls and tin-lined fences?

A woman with bleached hair sits behind a computer, talking on the phone, I clear my throat to get her attention. “Hello, I’m here to see Abigail Chiu.”

Without making eye contact, she points to a sign-in a sheet in front of me. A lead weight sits in my stomach as I jot a fake name down. What I’m about to do will change everything and there is no going back.

“Third floor. The guard will buzz you in,” she states before returning to her phone conversation.

“Guard? What do they need a guard for?” The room feels like it is getting smaller with each breath I take.

Shaking her head, she simply points behind me to the elevators in reply. “Third floor.”

I force my feet to move, one after another, until I am in the elevator, watching the doors seal me in, closing me in to a fate I cannot get out of. The air seems too thin in here, all wrong. I drag deep breaths in through my nose as the panic settles in.

What if they think I’m a patient and don’t let me leave? I imagine doctors holding me down, with dripping needles filled with liquid to silence my screams. The elevator feels like it’s spinning, and a wave of dizziness crash into me. I think I might be sick.

Maybe I should have left this alone. Not only do I have no business being here, but no one even knows I am. I try to focus on the numbers as they light up, attempting to talk myself down from this panic attack.
I can do this. I can do this.
I have to do this for Abigail, Juliet, and myself. The doors slide open, and I hesitate only for a moment before stepping out.

A different world is hidden up here on the third floor, one that is closer to the one I’d imagined. Long gone is the bright, cheery lobby. Here the walls are a dingy yellow, smeared with a black tinge of what must be years of filth, more dirt is pushed into the corners where the wall and floor meet and the air in here is stale.

The guard sits in a brown metal chair, wearing blue scrubs. He is either asleep or playing on his phone, I cannot tell. I try to swallow, but my throat feels like sandpaper catching my tongue. I walk forward, the heels of my boots clicking against the floor. The hall seems to stretch on forever until I finely reach the sleeping guard.

I clear my throat before stating, “Ummm. Excuse me. I’m here to see Abigail Chiu.”

He straightens, scrubbing his face with his hand before he stands up and types a code into a pad next to him. There’s a loud buzzing from the other side of the door as it unlocks.

Thanking him, I pull it open and cross over the threshold. The door shuts firmly behind me. I’m locked in. I have to fight the urge to turn around and bang on the door, demanding that he lets me out. How can anyone stand to be in here? Then I remember this is where Essie was, and another wave of nausea rolls through me. This is why my parents never let me come see her, they didn’t want me to see where she was. I try to gather my bearings, but the way the room rocks back and forth is like being on a ship. Someone painted a pastel rainbow on the walls. Its muted colors blend as it slides along, giving me ominous feeling, as if it is taunting the patients and visitors of is outside of these walls and who is locked in.

Heavy plastic doors line the hall. Most of them are shut, but every once in a while, I come to one that is open. I peek inside one of the rooms, finding a pink and white crocheted quilt, which lays over a hospital bed, along with a stack of fashion magazines and stuffed animals. The patient walks over to the door—she is young with bright purple hair—we look at each other for a moment. Could this be Abigail? I’m about to ask her name when she flips me off and slams the door shut.

Shocked, I hurry along, hoping that wasn’t her. The end of the hall opens up into a large gathering room. An old, stained, brown tweed couch stands in the middle, and across from it is an old box TV playing I Love Lucy reruns. Tables are scattered around the room, covered with board games and cards. A few of the patients sit around the tables playing them.

A heavyset nurse with skin the color of coffee is crushing up pills into pudding at the nurse’s station. “Excuse me? Hi, I’m a visitor,” I point out, in case she tries to crush up pills for me, too.

She stops her task and looks up at me. Her eyes, which are as dark as her skin, are sparkling.

“I’m looking for Abigail Chiu.” I glance around the room, trying to pick out someone who could capture Jaxson’s attention.

She looks me up and down. “Abby? Are you family?”

“No, just a friend from school.”

She shakes her head and leans against her cart. “You know, you are the first visitor besides her boyfriend,” she says with a French accent.

“Boyfriend?”

“Yeah, Every Sunday he comes to see her. He’s the only one. Not even her parent’s visit. But, you can count on him to show up with pancakes and coffee every Sunday morning, rain or shine.”

My heart slams into my throat, and I scan the area for the nearest garbage can in case I puke. “Her boyfriend …. What is his name?” I nervously tug on the curl behind my ear, pulling it straight.

She thinks for a moment and then goes back to crushing pills. “Come to think of it, I don’t know, and it’s not like she can talk about him, given her condition.”

I let go of my hair, and it snaps back into place. “Her condition?”

The nurse pauses again and looks me over. “Who did you say you were again?”

I swallow hard. “I didn’t. My name is Eden. I’m a friend of Abby’s. We used to go to school together. Is she around?”

“She will be in the cafeteria, just down the hall. Do you think you can find it on your own?”

I nod and head in the direction she points. I’m glad to get away from her before she can question me any further. I follow the rainbow to the cafeteria. How ironic to be following a rainbow that only ends with lunacy.

The dining room could be any high school cafeteria. Groups of people sit at gray plastic tables, eating food that doesn’t look much better than my own high school’s food. They seem to be having a lunch of mushy potatoes, runny apple sauce, and what the cook is trying to pass off as meat loaf.

A tall boy with red hair and wearing plaid footed pajamas eyes me as I enter. I try to ignore him, but his weird, yellowish cat eyes follow me, putting me more on edge. I can feel his intense stare with each step I take. There are a few orderlies monitoring the situation, some of them try to encourage patients to eat, but most walk around with a dazed expression. I find one who doesn’t seem too busy to point me in Abigail’s direction. If I felt sick before, it’s nothing compared to how I feel when I see Abigail for the first time. It’s all I can do not to vomit.