Read Online Those That Wake 02: What We Become by Jesse Karp - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jesse Karp
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do you really think shutting me out is the best idea?”
“You’re part of what’s going on with me. I’m in this relationship because it’s filling in for something that I’m . . .”
“What?”
“Missing.”
He stared hard at her. Goddamn him, there was no anger in those eyes, just desperation, longing.
“Josh . . .” She put a hand on his shoulder, though she’d promised herself she wasn’t going to touch him. “You are kind and smart and funny and compassionate. You’re a lovely, lovely person. But you’re not for me.”
He stared longer, his eyes going shiny.
“Who is?”
“No, Josh, it’s not like that. There’s no one else.”
“I know that. Not right now. But if I’m not for you, someone else is. Who?”
She stared back at him, and all she could feel right now was his pain. The moment she saw Mark undressing and Ari standing back, preparing for his little diversion, she made a decision, one she could only fully understand in retrospect, that when confronted by boys who hurt her, she would not shed a tear. She would be strong, because if you let them do that to you, control your heart that way, then you were never your own person. But it didn’t work so well when the boy in question wasn’t sick, wasn’t a monster, did it?
She was crying. Crying for him.
“I’m sorry, Josh.” Her hand was on his face. “This isn’t fair at all. But this is what has to happen to . . .” She swallowed. “To make me whole. Or something. I’m sorry.”
She moved to stand, but before her fingers had completely left his cheek, he had her by the hand, and he looked up hard into her eyes.
“Don’t do this, Laura.” His voice was low, filled with concern. “For you, as well as me. These last few days, it’s like you want to walk away from your life. You don’t have to be afraid.”
She took her hand away, looked down at him, the tears suddenly drying on her cheeks.
“I’m sorry, Josh. I’m not afraid. For the first time in a long time, I’m not afraid.”
She turned and walked away. From behind her, there was no call, no sound of his voice at all, as though he had simply ceased to exist. She did not turn around.
With that behind her, the urgency, the immediacy of figuring out what to do next began to gnaw at Laura. By the time she was back in her room, it was practically eating her alive. She locked her door—her roommate was in class, wouldn’t return for hours. She went to her cell, snatched it up. Instead of dialing her mother’s number as she intended, she hurled the thing at the wall as hard as she could, where it rebounded invincibly, falling into the bed’s soft welcome, its high-impact plastic construction able to withstand far worse then she could conjure.
“What do you want?” she said to the room, her vision still swimming in black. “Ask me to my face. I don’t understand the note. I don’t understand who the Librarian is supposed to be.”
“God
damn
it,” she said, focusing on nothing in particular. She picked up her cell, dropped it on the floor, and stomped on it hard. The large single plastic eye of its screen glared back at her, invulnerable in its judgment.
She looked around the room, spinning crazily, trying to find something, spot something, not knowing what. She jammed her fists into her eyes and held them, doing deep-breathing yoga exercises that should, theoretically, slowly melt her muscles and calm her nervous system until all her tension was gone. But they were useless, worse than useless. They felt like a child’s tool now, an affront to this impossible and inexplicable fear and rage welling up in her.
She stormed out of the room, downstairs, across the campus to the library. She walked into it, only barely able to keep herself in a proper state of quiet. She marched through the stacks, tracking each librarian on duty, keeping herself in the shadows as best she could so as not to be seen in return.
Follow the librarian. See where he
“You’re part of what’s going on with me. I’m in this relationship because it’s filling in for something that I’m . . .”
“What?”
“Missing.”
He stared hard at her. Goddamn him, there was no anger in those eyes, just desperation, longing.
“Josh . . .” She put a hand on his shoulder, though she’d promised herself she wasn’t going to touch him. “You are kind and smart and funny and compassionate. You’re a lovely, lovely person. But you’re not for me.”
He stared longer, his eyes going shiny.
“Who is?”
“No, Josh, it’s not like that. There’s no one else.”
“I know that. Not right now. But if I’m not for you, someone else is. Who?”
She stared back at him, and all she could feel right now was his pain. The moment she saw Mark undressing and Ari standing back, preparing for his little diversion, she made a decision, one she could only fully understand in retrospect, that when confronted by boys who hurt her, she would not shed a tear. She would be strong, because if you let them do that to you, control your heart that way, then you were never your own person. But it didn’t work so well when the boy in question wasn’t sick, wasn’t a monster, did it?
She was crying. Crying for him.
“I’m sorry, Josh.” Her hand was on his face. “This isn’t fair at all. But this is what has to happen to . . .” She swallowed. “To make me whole. Or something. I’m sorry.”
She moved to stand, but before her fingers had completely left his cheek, he had her by the hand, and he looked up hard into her eyes.
“Don’t do this, Laura.” His voice was low, filled with concern. “For you, as well as me. These last few days, it’s like you want to walk away from your life. You don’t have to be afraid.”
She took her hand away, looked down at him, the tears suddenly drying on her cheeks.
“I’m sorry, Josh. I’m not afraid. For the first time in a long time, I’m not afraid.”
She turned and walked away. From behind her, there was no call, no sound of his voice at all, as though he had simply ceased to exist. She did not turn around.
With that behind her, the urgency, the immediacy of figuring out what to do next began to gnaw at Laura. By the time she was back in her room, it was practically eating her alive. She locked her door—her roommate was in class, wouldn’t return for hours. She went to her cell, snatched it up. Instead of dialing her mother’s number as she intended, she hurled the thing at the wall as hard as she could, where it rebounded invincibly, falling into the bed’s soft welcome, its high-impact plastic construction able to withstand far worse then she could conjure.
“What do you want?” she said to the room, her vision still swimming in black. “Ask me to my face. I don’t understand the note. I don’t understand who the Librarian is supposed to be.”
“God
damn
it,” she said, focusing on nothing in particular. She picked up her cell, dropped it on the floor, and stomped on it hard. The large single plastic eye of its screen glared back at her, invulnerable in its judgment.
She looked around the room, spinning crazily, trying to find something, spot something, not knowing what. She jammed her fists into her eyes and held them, doing deep-breathing yoga exercises that should, theoretically, slowly melt her muscles and calm her nervous system until all her tension was gone. But they were useless, worse than useless. They felt like a child’s tool now, an affront to this impossible and inexplicable fear and rage welling up in her.
She stormed out of the room, downstairs, across the campus to the library. She walked into it, only barely able to keep herself in a proper state of quiet. She marched through the stacks, tracking each librarian on duty, keeping herself in the shadows as best she could so as not to be seen in return.
Follow the librarian. See where he
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