heavy breathing speaks volumes.
“Josh? Please tell me. You owe me that much.”
He clears his throat before whispering “A couple of years.”
“Years?” I choke on my anger. “You never said anything! What the hell, Josh?”
“What was I supposed to say? ‘Guess what, sis? We’re in hiding.’” Josh blinks slowly and shakes his head. “I overheard them speaking about WITSEC. They didn’t know I was listening.”
“Two years ago? The argument?” I pause and replay the night Josh left: the yelling-match with our parents, the door slamming as Josh stormed out. “You left because of this?”
“Yeah. I . . . I didn’t handle the news well.”
“I remember!” Memories of that night pull forward. I thought Josh was such a jerk, getting mad for his own mistakes, running out instead of dealing with the truth. “You talk about me being a brat.”
“I never said I didn’t understand what you’re going through.”
The banter with Josh normalizes the situation somehow; if fleeing to a safe house the day after assassins have chased you and you mentally witnessed the death of someone you used to know could ever be considered normal.
“Josh?”
“Yeah?”
“We’re going to be okay, right?”
“Everything will be fine. We’ll find the others before anything can happen to them. Mom and Dad will be waiting for us, I’m certain of it. Then we can all start over. Move on.”
I smile, instinctively reaching into my pocket and fingering the warm metal chain from David’s locket. Josh never liked David. He told me I deserved someone better.
He was right.
We reach the airport faster than I expect. Josh pulls the tickets and fake IDs from his backpack. We pass through security to the gate and to the plane with no problems. As we make our way through the crowd, their thoughts fill mine; their fears join my own. The noise increases as the moments click past. I try to block the sound out, ignore the constant onslaught of questions and pleas. But the chatter won’t abate. We take our seats in the mid-section of the plane, my ears filled with the endless sounds of those around me. I grab my head and close my eyes, wishing for a peace that refuses to obey.
Josh takes my hand. “What’s wrong?” he whispers.
At first I think his words are just another thought filling my mind, until he asks again and squeezes the life from my fingers.
“Dang Josh,” I bark at him as I pull back my hand. My brows knit into a line across my forehead.
“Sorry, I needed to get your attention. You were grabbing you head and rocking back and forth like you were in pain.”
“I was!” I take a slow breath. “How do you make it stop?” I whisper.
“What?” Josh asks, clueless.
“The noise?”
Josh looks around, noting every passenger. “You can hear their thoughts?”
“Yes. They’re screaming at me. I have to make it stop.”
“Good luck with that.” A sarcastic smile creeps through his expression as he closes his eyes.
I punch him in the arm. The cacophony continues and I grab my head again. I rock back and forth, trying to find something, one thing, to focus my attention toward. Mari’s voice rises to the surface.
Remember , she whispers over and over. Be honest with yourself.
I focus on the words, allowing her presence to wipe everything else away. Within a few moments there is no sound but her voice, no images but the picture of her flaming red hair and deep set green eyes telling me to not to forget who I am. I examine the minute details of her skin, nearly translucent and marred only by a deep scar extending from her nose to her lip.
The image fades as my thoughts clear, replaced by sleep . . .
The dream starts quickly, images of lab coats and a house tucked away in a thick forest of pine and maple trees, flanked by a narrow lake. The trees are painted in bursts of yellow and gold. Five children dance and play in an underground room. A familiar boy walks over to me, smiling. Black hair cut
“Josh? Please tell me. You owe me that much.”
He clears his throat before whispering “A couple of years.”
“Years?” I choke on my anger. “You never said anything! What the hell, Josh?”
“What was I supposed to say? ‘Guess what, sis? We’re in hiding.’” Josh blinks slowly and shakes his head. “I overheard them speaking about WITSEC. They didn’t know I was listening.”
“Two years ago? The argument?” I pause and replay the night Josh left: the yelling-match with our parents, the door slamming as Josh stormed out. “You left because of this?”
“Yeah. I . . . I didn’t handle the news well.”
“I remember!” Memories of that night pull forward. I thought Josh was such a jerk, getting mad for his own mistakes, running out instead of dealing with the truth. “You talk about me being a brat.”
“I never said I didn’t understand what you’re going through.”
The banter with Josh normalizes the situation somehow; if fleeing to a safe house the day after assassins have chased you and you mentally witnessed the death of someone you used to know could ever be considered normal.
“Josh?”
“Yeah?”
“We’re going to be okay, right?”
“Everything will be fine. We’ll find the others before anything can happen to them. Mom and Dad will be waiting for us, I’m certain of it. Then we can all start over. Move on.”
I smile, instinctively reaching into my pocket and fingering the warm metal chain from David’s locket. Josh never liked David. He told me I deserved someone better.
He was right.
We reach the airport faster than I expect. Josh pulls the tickets and fake IDs from his backpack. We pass through security to the gate and to the plane with no problems. As we make our way through the crowd, their thoughts fill mine; their fears join my own. The noise increases as the moments click past. I try to block the sound out, ignore the constant onslaught of questions and pleas. But the chatter won’t abate. We take our seats in the mid-section of the plane, my ears filled with the endless sounds of those around me. I grab my head and close my eyes, wishing for a peace that refuses to obey.
Josh takes my hand. “What’s wrong?” he whispers.
At first I think his words are just another thought filling my mind, until he asks again and squeezes the life from my fingers.
“Dang Josh,” I bark at him as I pull back my hand. My brows knit into a line across my forehead.
“Sorry, I needed to get your attention. You were grabbing you head and rocking back and forth like you were in pain.”
“I was!” I take a slow breath. “How do you make it stop?” I whisper.
“What?” Josh asks, clueless.
“The noise?”
Josh looks around, noting every passenger. “You can hear their thoughts?”
“Yes. They’re screaming at me. I have to make it stop.”
“Good luck with that.” A sarcastic smile creeps through his expression as he closes his eyes.
I punch him in the arm. The cacophony continues and I grab my head again. I rock back and forth, trying to find something, one thing, to focus my attention toward. Mari’s voice rises to the surface.
Remember , she whispers over and over. Be honest with yourself.
I focus on the words, allowing her presence to wipe everything else away. Within a few moments there is no sound but her voice, no images but the picture of her flaming red hair and deep set green eyes telling me to not to forget who I am. I examine the minute details of her skin, nearly translucent and marred only by a deep scar extending from her nose to her lip.
The image fades as my thoughts clear, replaced by sleep . . .
The dream starts quickly, images of lab coats and a house tucked away in a thick forest of pine and maple trees, flanked by a narrow lake. The trees are painted in bursts of yellow and gold. Five children dance and play in an underground room. A familiar boy walks over to me, smiling. Black hair cut
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