Read Online The Bodies We Wear by Jeyn Roberts - Free Book Online Page A

hear dead air. I press some of the buttons but nothing happens. I seem to be stuck between floors.
    I have no idea how I got here. The last thing I remember is my heart trying to beat its way out of my chest and the man who gave me the liquid that tasted like strawberries. He gave me Heam. I know this. I may be young but I’m not stupid. I’ve heard my mother talking about it and I know my father went to jail because of it. You’re supposed to see Heaven. I heard about Heaven from stories my grandmother told me.
    “Don’t tell her that,” my mother used to say. “You’re filling her head with nonsense. There’s no such thing. I’m not raising her to believe in that crap.”
    “She has a free will and mind,” my grandmother would respond. “She can think for herself. Look at her life. A bit of goodness won’t hurt her.”
    “There is no God,” my mother would say.
    “The world is full of opinions. That is yours. I have mine. Let her reach hers on her own.”
    They would argue this back and forth and eventually my mother would throw up her arms in disgust and go somewhere. The bar. The store. The kitchen to finish the dishes. Anywhere but near her mother, who was too old-fashioned to tolerate. Grandmother would pick me up and I’d curl into a ball in her lap and listen to her stories.
    Heaven was supposed to be a place where angels floated on clouds and played harps. There was no sadness and everyone was peaceful and happy. I always figured it would have lots of ice cream and every bed would be warm and soft.
    I look around but I don’t see any angels. Maybe this elevator will take me up to the clouds. But it’s not moving. Why isn’t it moving?
    And why am I so cold?
    I try calling out, my voice tiny and hollow, the feeble sound bouncing around the confines of my cell. I call out Christian’s name. My mother’s. I hear something and immediately shut my mouth to listen.
    The noise starts small. A scratch. Faint. Then again. Louder this time.
    I press my ear up against the smooth doors.
    I listen.
    Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.
    A whisper.
    Pound. Pound. Pound.
    Something smashes against the door, denting the metal. I scream and back up against the opposite wall, my back pressed against the chrome railing. The walls are made of mirrored glass and I can suddenly see my own horrified expression staring back at me a thousand times.
    A sharp spike breaks through the metal with incredible speed. I dodge the rod and it breaks through the mirror, sending bits of silver glass raining down around me. Another pole slices through; the sound of metal scraping against metal fills my ears and I scream again. There is something on the other side of those doors and it screams back at me, denting the metal with its claws. My heart slams against my chest, threatening to rip itself out of my body.
    Pound. Pound. Pound.
    I’m so cold. Icy water flows down my back, my spine. My fingers are so frosty I can’t feel them. My feet have frozen to the floor; they won’t move. My entire body won’t move. I can’t breathe. There’s no air inside of me. The room grows hot and the metal turns red and begins to sweat in front of my eyes. But I still can’t move and my hands are shaking so badly I’m positive icicles are going to form on my fingertips and break off, smashing to the floor.
    Another pole. This one strikes me, piercing my wrist and hand. I drop to my knees, reaching for my wound with my good arm, trying to pull myself free. The pain is enormous. It fills my body; I can’t think or even see properly. Everything around me turns bright red. I want to scream but I can’t. I am beyond words. Beyond breath.
    And then the shadows come.
    They crawl up along the walls, their eyes reflecting in the bits of broken mirror that surround me. Long and black, they have no form, but I can see the claws on their fingertips and the tails that trail behind them. They laugh and whisper obscenities. When I open my mouth to scream again, one