Darkness of Light (5 page)

Jumping at every creak the house made, I threw off the covers and grabbed my iPod from my desk. Playing music would help break the silence and relax me. I perched myself on top of my desk and pried the window blinds apart to look out into the night. The moon broke through the clouds as the fog slid through the trees. I was trying to relax and get in rhythm with the soothing music, but chills continued to prickle my skin. The feeling of being watched crept over me again.

I was about to snap my blinds back together and go back to bed when something moved in my peripheral. A pair of green, cat-like eyes stared right back into mine from the forest. I jerked. Fear clamped down, strangling the scream wanting to bubble out of my throat. I blinked and the eyes were gone.
I just imagined it.
I repeated over in my head as the therapists had conditioned me to do when an “episode” happened. I did a running jump to my bed so nothing underneath could reach out and grab my ankles. Wrapping myself up tightly in my duvet, I kept the lights on, drifting in and out of sleep for the rest of the night.

Seven

On Monday I took advantage of not having to go to school and spent most of the morning catching up on the sleep I hadn’t gotten the night before. By noon, I finally dragged myself out of bed, mostly because my stomach was growling so loud it sounded like bears were waking up from hibernation in my gut. It was threatening to start gnawing on itself so I finally gave in and got up. 

It was strange not to be at school. I could picture Kennedy and Ryan sitting at our normal table at lunch, one person short of our three-pack. My heart twisted at that thought. Unless Principal Mitchell had a change of heart, I would not be eating lunch with my friends in the foreseeable future.

I sighed and lugged my body down the hallway towards the kitchen. Mark sat at the breakfast bar working on his laptop as I lumbered into the kitchen. He was obviously doing a “work at home” day. At least we didn’t have to go out in the torrential rain that was assaulting the windows.

“Morning . . . or afternoon, I guess,” I mumbled, feeling awful about our conversation the night before. I had many sleepless hours to go over the situation and see what a brat I had been. Although I was still upset, I hated hurting Mark. I knew he was trying his best. He didn’t ask to be a single parent of an orphaned girl. But he had me, for better or worse.  

It made me miss my mom so much my heart ached. I missed her laugh, her smile, the way she made everything better. We had been really close. For so long, it had just been the two of us. I longed for our talks, especially since talking about boys or girl stuff with Mark was not particularly comfortable for either one of us.

“I was wondering when you’d get up,” Mark said breaking into my thoughts.

I poured some coffee, thankful Mark had kept a pot going for me. “Yeah, I didn’t sleep well last night.” 

Mark pinched his lips together. He looked like he wanted to say something. An awkward silence filled the room when he said nothing. Glancing around, I noticed Mark had left some eggs on the stove for me. My throat tightened up. I grabbed a plate from the cupboard. 

Mark pointed to the microwave. “There’s some turkey bacon in there.”

“Thanks,” I replied, but I knew he didn’t hear me. My voice couldn’t get above a whisper without it cracking with emotion. 

Silence hung in the air before Mark started again. “I set up a meeting later this afternoon with Mrs. Sanchez, who runs the facility at Silverwood.”

I kept my back to him and only nodded in recognition. More silence. Eventually Mark got up with a heavy sigh. He moved into the living room and turned on the sports channel. I turned back to my plate of bacon and toast. As hungry as I was, my stomach was contorted with sadness and guilt. I forced the food down. 

After I finished, I controlled the impulse to retreat to the safety of my bedroom and went in with Mark. We sat in awkward muteness, staring at the television. When the program went to a commercial break, Mark turned off the TV.

Oh boy . . .

“Em, I’m sorry for what I said last night,” he said. “It was wrong, and I didn’t mean to insinuate you had anything to do with the incidents.” He hesitated. “You and I have always been able to talk, but I have to say it’s harder now. It was much easier when you were a little girl, but you’re technically an adult now. I’ve known for the last couple years we were heading into areas that weren’t going to be comfortable for either of us. But, this is different . . . this is something I wasn’t ready for. I don’t know what to do here, kiddo. The sheriff is committed to finding and punishing who did this, and you seem to be the scapegoat.”

“I’ll put on a bell and start chewing on some paper.”

“I do believe you, you know? I don’t think you are a part of this.”

“Thank you.”

“But . . .”

Why was there always a “but?”

“But . . . there is something going on with you. I’m really worried. I know how hard it’s been for you, losing your mother like that. I can’t imagine how tough it was going through what you did.”

I looked down. “I know this hasn’t been easy for you either.” 

He didn’t say anything for a while. I thought I’d said the wrong thing, but when I lifted my gaze, tears glistened in his eyes.

“Some days I feel like I’ll be all right, and some days it hurts so much I can’t even breathe. I miss her so much, but it’s nothing compared to what you lost. You’ve lost your mother, who was also your best friend . . .” 

“You lost her too.”

“I know, but losing a mother is a different kind of loss, especially
your
mother,” he said, his eyes still glistening. In that moment, I saw how lonely he was. He thought “until death do us part” meant when they were old and gray and he would go first. “I worry about you, Sunny D.” 

I smiled. He hadn’t called me that in a while. Devlin was one of my middle names. Mom told me it was from my biological father’s family. I had never been an overly cheerful little girl, always choosing sarcasm and biting wit, even at six-years-old. So Mark found it amusing calling me Sunny D.

“I’m fine, Mark,” I lied. “I’m just dealing with a lot lately.”

He studied me. “Okay.” His expression made it clear the topic was not going to be dropped, just suspended for now. 

Mark decided to go for a run to clear his head. I knew how he felt. The forest behind our house called to me. So while he went running, I went to clear mine under the canopy of the trees, which protected me a bit from the relentless rain. I loved it out here. There was something about nature that instantly calmed me, made me feel complete. I sat down on a rock and ignored the wetness soaking through my jeans. I picked up a leaf, tracing its veins. 

A whisper floated with the wind. 

“Ember . . .” 

My head snapped up at the sound of that voice. 

“Ember.”

A crawling sensation crept down my spine when I realized this time I heard the voice in my mind, instead of out loud. 

My eyes darted around the forest and the canopy. The air that shimmered between a break in the trees grabbed my attention. Like ocean waves, the air danced and bobbed between the trees with increasing urgency. It twisted and rolled until a tall, broad, gorgeous man with piercing blue eyes stood there. A high pitch noise escaped me as I stared at him in fear. He was dressed in black leather pants and a black fitted shirt, which hugged every muscle to perfection. He was the vision from the dance, but this time I could see all of him clearly. And, wow, even though I was scared to death, I could appreciate the man’s breathtaking looks and toned physique. 

He looked to be in his mid-to-late twenties, although there was something ageless and ancient about him at the same time. If his black hair and alluring smile didn’t bring me to my knees, the magnetic energy resonating off him did. It seized me and turned my senses into an overcharged battlefield. I was mesmerized, terrified, and aroused by him all at the same time. As he stepped closer, I jerked back. I stumbled over a rock and fell to the ground, scrapping my arm. My throat strained as I tried to choke out a cry. 

His voice fluttered through my mind again.
“I’m not trying to scare you, Ember. I came here for you.”

I scrambled to my feet. “How do you know my name?” I realized I hadn’t thought about him knowing my name until now. “Who are you?”

“You’ve been known to me since your birth,”
his voice slid into my mind. “As for who I am, I am someone who’s been waiting for you for a long time.”

“H-How are you doing that?” My voice was barely a whisper.

“How am I doing what?”
His words entered my head. From the smile, he knew exactly what I was talking about. Not that I noticed his deliciously beautiful lips.

I kept my voice level and low. “Speaking in my head.”

“That’s not important. What’s important right now is you.” He spoke out loud now, his voice captivating.

“Me?” I asked. “Why me? What do you want with me? Who
are
you?”

Without even seeing him move, he was now only inches from me. “I am Torin.” He said his name with honor and pride. Taking my hand, his lips brushed against my knuckles, sending butterflies to duke it out in my stomach.
Okay Em, now you are letting your hallucinations name themselves and touch you.
At eighteen, I still had imaginary friends. Hot ones, granted, but still . . .

His hand came up and gently cupped my cheek. I felt protected and oddly safe. “This may be the last time I can appear to you like this. I must keep you safe for as long as possible.”

“What? You’re not coming back?” Panic pitched my voice higher. Why did I care? He was just a figment of my imagination. But he felt so much more than that. He felt so comfortable, so familiar.

“No
mo chuisle
, not like this. It is too dangerous. But keep your mind open for me.” He leaned down kissing my hand again. “Sweet dreams, Ember.” 

With that parting kiss, he stepped back and disappeared into the forest. 

I stood there, blinking. Then, like someone had flipped a switch, reality flooded back. Fear, confusion, and a sensation that felt like withdrawal rose and plummeted, colliding with everything inside me. My body shook. I felt emotional and raw. 

I walked back to the house in a daze. As real as it felt, I knew my brain was inventing Torin. I had stayed at a mental hospital for several weeks after my mother had been murdered. The doctors there had said that minds are capable of unbelievable things. People who had gone through tragedy and wanted to escape from the harshness of reality would create entire worlds that would feel more real to them than the real world did. The doctors told me I was probably creating these people and creatures I saw to hide from the loss I felt from her death. That had to be what was happening. Torin could not be real. He couldn’t . . . 

Eight

Kennedy and Ryan had called me a dozen times since the previous day. As much as I loved them, I didn’t feel like talking to anyone. I should have known they would not put up with my silence for long. They came over right after school, before Mark and I left for our appointment at Silverwood. 

They hugged me and made me feel better as they went through all the emotions I had gone through—shock, anger, and even a little grief. They couldn’t believe what had happened and how I was being treated.

“This is so not fair. You didn’t do anything. They don’t even have any proof. This can’t be legal,” Kennedy exclaimed. “We should fight against this. My mom could help out.”

Kennedy’s mom had been a lawyer before she put her career on hold after Kennedy was adopted. Two years after that, Mrs. Johnson got pregnant with Halley. There was no doubt they loved Kennedy, but I could tell she felt the difference between her and her sister. Deep down, she felt she didn’t belong to them, not really. Something I understood.

I shook my head. “No.”

“No?” Kennedy crossed her arms, looking confused.

“No,” Ryan piped up. “She’s right. I know what it feels like to be an outsider in this town, even though I was born and raised here.” Sadness crept over Ryan’s features. The fact that Ryan had come out in high school, dealing with all the discrimination and nasty comments on a daily basis, made me adore him more. At least his mom was supportive; his dad was still hoping Ryan was going through a phase. “Fighting them will only make it worse. You can’t win against these people, especially against someone like Kallie Parson. I know.”

I couldn’t blame my circumstances on Kallie, but I had no doubt she was one of the people who made a statement against me and even less doubt she had her minions do the same.

I was used to girls like her. Growing up, I never had a lot of friends, and after my mother’s death, I had even fewer. People tended to keep their distance, like they sensed something wasn’t right with me. I also had this undeniable instinct to keep people at arm’s length. Kennedy and Ryan were the first ones to really break through my walls. Even though there was still a lot I kept from them, they knew more about me than anyone.

When I first moved here, they had immediately taken me in, acting like we had been friends all our lives. That was something I never experienced before. We were all kindred spirits in a way. The fact that none of us felt like we really belonged drew us together.

Before they left, they promised they’d call or text me every day, and we’d spend the weekends together. I used to be fine on my own, but now I felt sick to my stomach at the thought of losing them. They were my family. They were where I belonged.

***

When Mark and I drove up to the facility, I was surprised how modern it was, with its wall of windows and solar panels on the roof. It looked nothing like the jail I thought it would. 

We parked the car and headed through the large glass doors of the main building. Mrs. Sanchez greeted us and showed us to her office. She was a little thing, about five foot two, but from the stern expression on her face, she was definitely feisty and not someone to screw with. She had short, golden blonde hair cropped close to her head. It fit perfectly with her pantsuit, glasses, and her strong, no-nonsense attitude.