Torn (3 page)

I dared the voice to manifest itself, only feeling braver now that the familiar log structure stood behind me, supporting me.

As I reached for the worn door handle that seemed so pathetic against the impressive door, Ethan stopped me. “Try not to worry about the voice. You should just go in, shower and rest. You look beat.”

I was sure he meant to say
you look like hell
, but I brushed it off. The mud on my face cracked as I forced a smile and told him, “I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine, Samantha.”

“Yes, I am. It’s just a voice, Ethan, and it’s not like this is the first time I’ve heard it.
And probably not the last.”

“Right, it’s just a voice.
A voice that follows you day and night.
A voice that comes out of nowhere and everywhere at once.
Look, just promise me you’ll get some rest and relax a bit before you collapse.”

“Fine,” I said, rolling my eyes. “I promise.” Lying always made me feel like crap and I tried not to squirm. But he was asking for the impossible. Well, it wasn’t
exactly
a lie anyway. I knew I would rest and relax if I could ever figure any of this out, but how did he expect me to tune out a noise when I wasn’t even sure of the source. And it wasn’t like I could just pop ear plugs in and pass out. “Okay? Can I go shower now?”

He looked as though he wanted to say something more but instead grabbed my hand and squeezed it tightly. I looked away, hoping he hadn’t seen the stupid smile on my face, and pulled the front door open.

We walked into the house and Ethan instantly released my hand. His brother, Lucas, stood in the kitchen waiting for us and eating a bowl of something. Knowing Lucas it was likely some sort of healthy granola crap. I suddenly craved sugar.
Lots and lots of sugar.

He was wearing nothing but a pair of old, ratty low-slung
jeans,
his slouching posture doing nothing to diminish his amazing abs. Apparently, the healthy granola crap was working. His favorite band blasted from the portable iPod dock on the counter.

He looked up as we entered the kitchen. “What’s up, guys?”

Ethan smiled at me then danced over to the iPod dock, turning up the volume
.
“
Yooooou...Your sex is on fire...
”

“Man, I love this song.”

“You would.
Perv.”
But, of course, my foot started tapping to the catchy beat.

“Aw, Sam.
You love me.”

“Shut up,
Ace
.” I loved using the nickname he would never allow anyone else to use just to piss him off. It was a subtle reference to the fact that, even though most people believe him to be a dumb jock, he still scored perfectly on his SAT’s. Lucas and I were the only ones that knew though, as he‘d refused to share that information with anyone except me. He seemed embarrassed to be smart, not just smart-ass smart, but smart-smart.

A familiar but uncomfortable warmth rose within me and my skin tingled as I realized I was staring at him like an idiot. His impromptu dance momentarily made me want to slip him a dollar. Needing to focus on something else, I averted my eyes, but not before Ethan noticed. His chiseled face broke into a knowing grin. I could swear he always knew what I was thinking. These feelings were totally off limits because even though Ethan wasn’t my brother, he might as well be.

As far back as I could remember
,
Lucas and Ethan had always been there. It was like they were the only people in my past
who’d
ever existed, especially after my dad died.
Ethan, as my best friend’s brother, was totally off limits to the funny stomach churning that arrived whenever I saw him. He has always been the I-wish-he-would-look-at-me-the-way-I-want-him-to guy.

Lucas, on the other hand, had tightened up a bit from his days of practical jokes and boisterous laughter. He flip-flopped sporadically between the old Lucas and the new moody, often-confusing-and-unusually-suspicious Lucas.

We’d been best friends since I could remember, but ever since my dad died he’d distanced himself from me. Every time I tried to talk to him about it, he’d change the subject or blow me off. My heart broke a little more whenever I pondered this slow, bizarre change in him, and I couldn’t help wondering if it was something I did. He was supposed to be my rock after my dad died but now that job fell to Ethan.

Lucas dropped his cereal bowl in the sink. Crossing his arms over his bare chest he said, “How’d she do?”

Ethan stripped off his shirt and used it to wipe the sweat from his face. “She did just fine. She’s getting faster. Right, Sam?”

“Uh, umm—” I stammered. Ethan’s sweaty, naked chest was distracting me, and I was a little embarrassed at the thoughts going through my head. “I did ok. I was almost able to jump the creek today. I get closer with each training session but I always fall short. Then we went at it with a little hand to hand, and I was winning, too, until the voice interrupted.”

Concerned, Lucas asked, “Again with the voice? Then what happened?”

I laughed nervously. “What happened? He proceeded to tackle me face first into the mud, as you can see. That’s what happened. It’s great, actually. I have my very own spa facial in the woods. I’m sure I could bottle it and run Clearasil out of business. But thanks for asking.”

Great, I was sounding like a brat again. With a huff, I walked into the living room and fell onto the couch, not caring that it would have to be steam cleaned to get the dirt off or that I would be the one doing it. I smeared a little into the cushion with my palm for good measure as I tried to shrink further into myself.

“
I’ll
practice with you tomorrow, Sam. I’ll show you how to avoid getting tackled.”

“But Lucas, I’m sure she doesn’t mind—”

“Shut up, Ethan!

Ethan ignored his brother.
“Aw, Sam.
It just takes practice. We’ve only been training for five months. You’ll get the hang of it. You just have to remember how—”

“It isn’t about being tackled. Don’t you get that?” I retorted as anger bubbled up from nowhere. “When are we going to quit wasting time with training and actually deal with the real problems? What am I even training for? Who am I supposed to be fighting? Why can’t anyone find Sebastian? Is it his voice I keep hearing?

“It’s been six months since my dad died, for Christ’s sake! And what makes you think Sebastian will come after me? And if he does, what makes you believe I’ll ever be strong enough to fight him off?”

I sighed. So many questions, yet not one of them had an answer. It was the same fight over and over again and I was tired of it. From their slumped shoulders and glazed expressions, I wasn’t the only one, either. So many times I wished I could just go home.
Back to my senior year of high school, back to my house, back to the peaceful days before my dad died.
But Lucas and Ethan always danced around that topic. With them, it was always training, training, and more training.

“...as you know. We are doing this for your own good...

I closed my eyes, barely listening as Lucas rattled off the same line he always gave me. God, I was so tired.

CHAPTER 3

March, six months earlier, Pensacola, Florida
:

I walked into the house and tossed my backpack, as per usual, on the couch.
Should I get a head start on that report of
Slaughterhouse Five
that’s due for English class or should I just go for
a swim
? It was an unusually warm day.
Decisions, decisions.
I honestly didn’t feel like doing much of anything. Deciding to make myself a little snack while I contemplate my options, I popped in my ear buds and sauntered into the kitchen.

Jamming to my newest playlist, I vaguely heard the doorbell ring. Irritated at the interruption to my potentially life altering decision-making process, I spun around and stalked to the front door.

Opening the door, I found no one there. It wasn’t until I stepped out onto the porch that I almost stumbled over it—a package with my name on it. No address, just my name in flowing gold letters. I scanned the street looking for evidence of who would have left it. Bending down to pick it up, I realized I would definitely need two hands. It wasn’t very big but surprisingly heavy. I hefted it into the house, closed the door with my foot, and screamed.

“Jesus Christ, Ethan. You scared the crap out of me!”

Doubled over as if in pain, Ethan laughed.
“You should’ve seen your face.
Priceless!”

“Ha, ha.
I’m so glad you find my personal terror so hilarious.” I then noticed he was wearing the new swimming trunks we’d bought at the mall the other day. Decision made.
Later, Vonnegut
.

Walking into the dining room, I said, “Let me put this down and I’ll go put on my bathing suit.”

I hurried upstairs and threw on my new blue Roxy bikini. After a quick leg rub to check for stubble, I sniffed my pits and twisted my hair into a knot. Ethan had once mentioned he liked it that way.

Stop it, Sam. He doesn’t like you
that
way.
I rolled my eyes, convinced my subconscious is trying to bully me into thinking there’s no chance with him, but can’t blame a girl for trying.

Slathering on my SPF 30, I grabbed my towel and headed back downstairs. I paused at the bottom step when I suddenly heard two murmuring voices coming from the kitchen. I smiled when I realized Lucas was there. All conversations stopped, however, when I walked into the room and found just about every snack in the pantry strewn across the countertop. I noticed the box has been moved from the dining room table to the kitchen counter.

“What’s up, guys?” I really hated it when people stop talking just as I walked into a room.

With an approving eye, Ethan answered, “Nothing much, Sam. Nice bathing suit. Really shows off your ears.”

Feeling uncomfortably flushed, I wracked my brain for something clever to say but all I managed to squeak out was, “Err, uh. Thanks.
You, too.”

Ethan just laughed and I wanted to punch him. He always got me tongue-tied and he knew it. How was it that I could just be myself around Lucas but whenever his brother was around I literally lost the ability to act like a human being?

“Hey Sam,” Lucas said. His casual tone sounded forced. “What’s in the box?”

“I don’t know. It just showed up on the doorstep. I was bringing it in when Ethan decided to play ‘let’s scare the hell out of Sam’.” I stuck my tongue out at Ethan before turning back to Lucas. “I don’t even know who it’s from.”

Ethan piped in, “Aren’t you curious? No return address, just your name on some brown paper package?
Looks like someone’s got a secret admirer.”

“Ha.
Funny.
As a matter of fact, I was going to open it.” I ran my fingers over the paper wrapping. “The handwriting is pretty, isn’t it? I like how it looks as though my name just floats above it. The flowery script reminds me of something, but I can’t place it.” Mesmerized by its simplicity, I stared a beat too long at the package before I shook a load of cobwebs from my head.

“Earth to Sam.”
Snapping his fingers in my face, Ethan pulled me back to reality.

“Uh, let me get something to open this. I don’t want to damage the paper.”

Lucas and Ethan exchanged a glance that I couldn’t quite read as I grabbed a knife from the drawer and delicately sliced through the tape. Once the paper was off, I folded it so my name won’t be wrinkled. Maybe I could put it in my scrapbook later. It was just so pretty.

Under the paper was a cardboard box. In the same ethereal script were weird symbols I didn’t recognize. “What does that—
”

“Hope,” Lucas answered before I finished my question.

“Hope? As in, uh, just hope?” Sometimes I couldn’t control the brainiac inside.

Ethan looked over, his blue eyes strangely dark. “It’s the Greek word for Hope.”

“How on earth would you know? You barely passed Spanish.”

“I’m smarter than the average bear,” Ethan said with a wink. “Open the box.”

“That’s odd. Why would someone send me a package that says hope on it?”

“Just open the box, Sam,” Lucas whispered impatiently.

Lucas was never impatient.
Moody, yes.
Impatient, no.
I stared at him for a moment, confused. Was I seeing the beginning of a whole new side to him? I wasn’t sure I liked it. With his fingers tapping on the countertop and eyes glued to the box, he looked edgy, a bit worried.

Ethan, on the other hand, was calmly leaning against the counter, his arms crossed. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was disinterested but he wasn’t. I could see it. Both of them were white-knuckled and tense.

“Fine,” I whispered back, trying to keep the unexpected and sudden dread from growing in my voice.

Using the same knife I used to cut the paper, I carefully cut the tape holding the cardboard box closed, again trying not to mar the beautiful script that suddenly, like the words on the paper, began to float. Peeking inside, I found an ornately carved wooden box about half the size of a shoebox. Knife still in hand, I gently lifted it from its packaging and set it on the counter.

“Ouch! Shit!” The knife nicked the palm of my hand and blood dripped onto the lid, flowing into the intricately cut design.

Lucas moved around the counter so fast, I couldn’t comprehend how he was suddenly next to me. As Lucas bandaged my hand with a bizarre rainbow colored scarf that he pulled out of nowhere, Ethan picked up the box and carried it in front of him like a bomb to the dining room table. Everything began to slow down and I felt disoriented. Ethan turned back to me from across the room, searching for something.