Schasm (Schasm Series) (32 page)

I find a single red rose lying on my pillow.

This isn’t real either.

I have to prove it to myself.

I press my finger against one of the thorns. To my surprise, it hurts. Two drops of blood run down my finger like teardrops. I just gaze at it.

Tears of the heart…

A nurse walks in to check on me. “Chloe, you’re bleeding,” she blurts out. “Do you need a bandage?” I don’t answer her, per the usual. She really hasn’t accepted the fact that I don’t want to talk and that I don’t intend to respond to her questions. “Oh my, this isn’t okay.” She pulls the rose from my pinched fingers. “Where did you get this?”

She sees it, too.

She walks out of my room with the one beautiful thing I’ve seen in such a very long time.

It’s okay, I’ll dream about it tonight.

But I don’t dream anymore.

Not even of Alex.

***

 I’m back in the common room. The Figment is in his corner in his red sweatshirt.

“Do you see that guy over there in the corner?” I ask the piano guy.

He says nothing.

“Thank you, sir.” He’s confirmed it for me.

I’m heading for the window to watch the freedom I can’t have. But I stop when the notes from Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata pour out of the piano. It’s so much more haunting this time than it was the last time I heard it. I turn to him again.

“This is for you, ma’am,” he says in a very low voice, “by request.” He looks toward the Figment.

He’s looking at me with nothing but sadness in his eyes. Did I cause that? My heart twinges for the first time in weeks.

I’m sorry, Alex.

What am I thinking? He isn’t real. He’s no more than a creation of my own imagination.

Isn’t he?

I approach him, our song ringing in my ears. “I don’t know if you are real or not,” I say. “But you aren’t good for me. I don’t want to see you anymore.” My eyes fill. “I’m sorry if this hurts you, but the thought of you not being real hurts me too much. And so I have to let you go. I don’t want to. I have to.” I close my eyes and draw in a long breath to calm myself. “I’m sorry. Good-bye.”

The pain is too much.

I turn toward the door. But he grabs my arm, and so many sensations explode through me. How many times has he touched me before—good and bad?

He reaches his hand into his back pocket, unclenching his fist to reveal a crumpled piece of paper. I take it from his hands carefully. I look up into his glossy eyes as I unfold it, knowing what it is, and what it means.

He's real

The drawing is real, too.

And it always has been.

I smile as I trace the crayon lines that make up the picture of Alex, Celia, and I, all smiling. I look back up as he smiles, too.

“You must have dropped this,” he says. I’m stunned to hear him speak here, in the real world. Dark and horrible as it is, it’s suddenly amazing. “Please promise me that you’ll never forget
Paris
and how much I love you.”

“I love Paris,” I cry.

Every emotion returns, all at one.

“I missed you,” he tells me.

I cry harder. “I thought I had never met you, that you never really existed. I’ve spent so much time questioning the reality of everything and everyone that I came to my own conclusion that nothing with us was ever real.”

“Even reality is nothing more than a dream,” he says. His beautiful crooked smile lights up his face. I’ve missed that more than anything. “Everything we’ve had and experienced is real. It just looks as if we may have taken a wrong turn somewhere…again.” He cups his hand around my cheek, and I press my face into it, inhaling his skin. “If I left here, would you come with me?” His eyes are full of light and hope.

I nod. “Yes.” I grip his arm. "I would go
anywhere
with you, Ale. Anywhere." I’m terribly confused about his state. “How did you break through? Last time I saw you here, you were still in the straitjacket.”

“I guess I’m having a good day.” He winks. “I found your drawing crumpled up in the hall, outside of your room. I opened it. It made me happy…that was enough to break through.” He looks around the room suspiciously. “I have a plan to get us out of here, but we have to act pretty quickly.” He takes my hand and leads me to the door. “Go put on something warm and meet me back here.”

“Alex, wait.” I smile. “I have to tell you something.”

“What is it?” he asks.

I run up to him, wrap my arms around his neck and rest my lips by his ear. “You are
everything
to me, and I don’t ever want to be away from you again. I can’t be away from you again. I need you forever,” I whisper. “I love you.”

His lips find mine and kiss me intensely. “I told you, you wouldn’t have to try to fall in love with me,” he says with a wink. That makes me cry even more. “I love you just as much…which is why I need you to move fast, right now. We have to get out of here.” He nudges me to leave.

I nod and step out of the room, coming face-to-face with the serial-killer-looking girl.

“Found.” She smiles.

“Yes…found. Thank you.” I give her skeletal figure a careful hug.

I’m in the hall, and I see an older man walking toward me in slow motion. The glare of his eyes looks somewhat familiar. He comes closer and closer. I begin to recognize him. He should have messy black hair but it’s slicked back, his face is shaven, and his usual frown seems to have been replaced with a smug smile.

He walks past me.

Is he a figment?

I reach my room and walk through the door. There are four loud clicks from the pair of shoes that have followed me.

A firm hand clamps down a little too hard around my arm. I turn and find the man gripping me…holding me. Tightly.

This can’t be real…

“Hello, Chloe,” he says. His smile is unsettling now.

It’s him. I know for certain now.

“Tomas?” I force the lump in my throat down. “You know me? What are you doing here?”

Of course I know you, Chloe.” He grins. “Your uncle Franco knows a lot about you.”

P
REVIEW
OF

FISSURED FREE

(SCHASM SERIES)

Content subject to change in editing

PREFACE

THROUGHOUT MY LIFE,
it has always seemed necessary to reach various landmarks in order to continue on whichever path I have chosen to take. Sometimes the milestones are places, sometimes they’re achieving particular goals, and sometimes it means getting a little beat down before getting back up.

I’m standing here clutching my stomach with one hand, waiting for a wave of sickness to pass, while my other hand is gripped around the cause of apprehension.

The past two years have brought us closer to this moment, and now watching him off in the distance, I can’t help but to recall a time when we had no idea of what our future would hold. Everything was new, surreal, and fit nicely inside of a little dream. If we had known what was to come, would we have continued running toward the unknown, or would we have hightailed it into a safer direction? It's hard to tell.

Our lives began to unfold shortly after we both left the institution, when we were hopeful for a new life, no matter what that would mean. Although, we learned quickly that a new life isn’t as great as it may seem.

CHAPTER ONE

A NEW LIFE

CLASSICAL MUSIC SETS THE MOOD
in this dim lit, tiny restaurant we often find ourselves at. Since we don't have a kitchen to use, we’ve gotten to know the local eateries pretty well.

Regardless of our living situation, I still feel like a princess who has been rescued from a prison tower. I never imagined having the opportunity to escape my imprisoned life. Sometimes I have to remind myself how lucky I am to be away from it. When things change quickly, it's easy to forget about what was left behind.

I twirl the last piece of spaghetti around my fork, and look up at the love emanating from Alex's crystal blue eyes. The look never changes. It's as if he can't get enough of me. On the other hand, it could be that he’s trying to take every part of me in now while he can. I'm not sure which, but it makes me feel loved.

I smile at him as I place the last bite in my mouth. Without a second passing after I've swallowed my food, Alex shoots his hand up in the air, waiving over the waiter.

He finished his meal ten minutes ago, and he's been impatiently waiting for me to finish. His fingers are drumming against the table and his foot is heavily tapping against the floor.

"Are you okay?" I ask, reaching my hand out to him.

He slides his fingers in between mine and grips my hand. "Just ready to get out of here." He waves his hand at the waiter again.

The waiter notices Alex and runs over to the counter, fumbling around and ripping the top piece of paper off of his order pad.

Alex places a handful of Euro over the bill and pushes his chair out with an assertive thrust. “Ready to go?” he asks.

 I nod. “I’m not sure I'm in the same rush you are," I say. I can’t help but laugh at his odd behavior. "What palace will we be heading to tonight?” I nudge my shoulder into his side.

“It’s a surprise,” he says. “I think you’ll like where we’re going tonight.” He gives me an offbeat grin and pushes the restaurant door open, motioning me to hurry up.

I haven’t objected to where we’ve been any night, and I haven’t minded that we’ve been staying on floors and couches at various hostels for the past couple of months. The people at all of the locations have been so generous and hospitable. I can’t complain. Anything is better than the life I came from. I’m free from my parents, and I'm not being drugged into a permanent state of consciousness. Life is perfect as far as I know.

Alex seems quieter than usual too. His lack of conversation, shoving food down his throat as if he hadn't eaten in days, and now speed walking down the street is making me question what he's up to.

I slide my hand out of his grip and latch my arm around his, pulling him in closer. I lean my cheek up against his shoulder. “I give up,” I say. “What are we doing? Are we going somewhere?” I tug on his arm. “You've been acting strange all night. If you're trying to hide something from me, you're
really
bad at it.” I snicker.

He purses his lips into a tight smile and kisses the top of my head. “Shh! I told you, it’s a surprise. You have to be patient.”

I roll my eyes and let out a sarcastic sigh. “How much further is this
surprise
?”

“Okay Miss Impatient, we’re only a couple of blocks away,” he says.

The anticipation is building. I can’t imagine what we could be doing or where we could be going. We enter into a tiny narrow side street surrounded by half a dozen towering brick buildings. It looks like a community of apartments. My mind is wondering off in different directions. I can’t imagine who we would be visiting. We don’t know anyone here.

Alex leads me over to a large metal door adjacent to one of the buildings. He pulls it open, and ushers me in. It looks like an old basement. It smells musky and feels damp. I’m not sure I like this.

We whisk around a few cement corners, and enter a stairwell. Multiple flights of stairs later, we reach an exit door. Alex double-checks the floor number, seeming unsure of himself. He pushes the door open and pulls me into a corridor.

Red carpeting and golden chevron striped wallpaper surrounds us, and the scent of potpourri aromatizes the air. It looks old, but beautiful.

Alex stops us in front of a wooden door at the end of the hall. The bronze plaque in the center has the number twenty-seven engraved on it. I look at him for clarification. He doesn’t look back.

“Are we visiting someone?”

He nods. His expression is uneasy and flustered. He shoves his hand into his pocket and retrieves a key.

A key?

He pushes the door open, and pulls me into a room with no lights. I can’t see a thing. I grapple my hand around his sleeve. He places his hand around my back and tugs his sleeve out of my tight grip as a soft chuckle escapes his mouth.

“What’s so funny? What is this place?” I ask, wishing I could see in this unlit location.

He laughs again and flips a switch. Light illuminates the room surrounding us. I see four empty white walls, aged hardwood floors, and three large French windows. Shock encompasses me. I scan my eyes around the space, taking inventory for clues: a short hallway with two doors, a chandelier hanging over nothing, and a small kitchen partially blocked by a breakfast bar. An empty apartment. That’s what this is.

I turn back to him, seeking an explanation. “Are we in someone’s apartment?”

He wraps his fingers around my arm and pulls me in closer. His hand is trembling around my elbow and his breaths are short and quick. “Chloe,” he says. “This is our new place.” His eyes seek approval. “I’ve been nervous that you might not like it, but I couldn’t stand dragging you around to sleep in strange places every night.”

“Our place?” I tried to hide my smile to give him a hard time. I don’t think I can conceal my excitement though.

He twirls his finger around a loose strand of my hair. “Do you like it?” A smile inches across his lips.

My eyes widen and my hands clap over my mouth. “Are you serious?" I ask.

He laughs and relief fills his face. “I'm serious,” he says. “You're not mad?" He places his hands over my shoulders and runs them up and down my arms. His eyes soften, but they’re still filled with worry.

"Mad?” I slap his arm. “It’s perfect.” I wrap my arms around him and fling my legs around his waist. “It’s a dream come true. Our own little place in the city.” I giggle. “Why would I ever be mad about this?” I trail my lips around his face, careful not to miss a spot. He locks his arms around my back and rests his head on my shoulder. “Big relief.” He sighs.

I pull my head back. “You’re crazy if you thought I wouldn’t.”

An apartment in Paris with the love of my life? Or a guarded room at a mental institution? Tough choice.