ashamed. She’s proud.
“You shouldn’t be,” I assure her weakly. “It’s your heritage. It’s fascinating.”
She’s satisfied by that, by the idea that I’m not looking down at her for who she is.
Her dark eyes tell a story, and to me, they tell me that she knows more than I do. That she might even know more about me than I do.
It’s crazy, I know.
But apparently, I’m crazy now.
Sabine guides me to a velvet chair and pushes me gently into it. She glances at Dare.
“Leave us,” she tells him softly. “I’ve got her now. She’ll be fine.”
He’s hesitant and he looks at me, and I nod.
I’ll be fine.
I think.
He slips away.
Sabine rustles about and as she does, I look around. On the table next to me, tarot cards are splayed out, formed in an odd formation, as though I’d interrupted a fortune telling.
I gulp because something hangs in the air here.
Something mystical.
After a minute, Sabine shoves a cup into my hands.
“Drink. It’s lemon balm and chamomile. It’ll settle your stomach and calm you down.”
I don’t bother to ask how she knew I was upset. It must’ve been written all over my face.
I sip at the brew and after a second, she glances at me.
“Better?”
I nod. “Thank you.”
She smiles and her teeth are scary. I look away, and she roots through a cabinet. She extracts her prize and hands me a box.
“Take this at night. It’ll help you sleep.” I glance at her questioningly, and she adds, “Dare told me.”
I take the box, which is unmarked, and she nods. “Your mama used to have trouble sleeping. And she had bouts of nerves, too.”
Sabine has no way of knowing that my ‘bout of nerves’ included hallucinations and hearing voices, so I just smile and thank her.
I glance at her table again. “Are you a fortune-teller, Sabine?” It feels odd to say those words in a serious manner, but the old woman doesn’t miss a beat.
“I read the cards,” she nods. “Someday, I’ll read yours.”
I don’t know if I want to know what they’ll say.
“Have you read Dare’s?” I ask impulsively, and I don’t know why. Sabine glances at me, her black eyes knowing.
“That boy doesn’t need his fortune told. He writes his own.”
I have no idea what that means, but I nod like I do.
“You’ll be ok now,” she tells me, her expression wise and I find myself believing her. She’s got a calming nature, something that settles the air around her. I hadn’t noticed that before.
“My mother never mentioned you,” I murmur as I get to my feet. “I find that odd, since she must’ve loved you.”
Sabine looks away. “Your mother doesn’t have happy memories from here,” she says quietly. “But I know her heart.”
“Ok,” I say uncertainly, as I hover over the threshold. Sabine lays her hand on my shoulder.
“If you need me again, you know where to find me.”
I nod, and then I walk away. I feel Sabine staring at me as I do, but I resist the urge to turn around.
Instead, I focus on how much better Sabine made me feel, how much calmer.
Maybe the tea had valium in it.
As I walk into my room, I’ve decided that I must’ve imagined the whole thing. I haven’t been sleeping well. My mind was playing tricks on me, as minds are prone to do when they’re sleep deprived.
Obviously.
That’s the explanation.
I raise my hand to tuck my hair behind my ear, and that’s when I freeze.
My fingers smell like carnations and stargazers.
Chapter 11
R opes bind me , holding me down, restraining me, biting into me.
I twist and turn, but there’s no getting away from them.
My mind spirals, splinters, fractures, bursting into a million confused pieces.
Light gets in, illuminating, but there’s no truth here. There is only nonsense and puzzles.
I can’t understand,
And
I’m
Not
Sure
I
Want
To.
“Help!” I call out. But my voice echoes down hallways and corridors and rooms. No one is here but me, and I’m alone, and that’s my worst
“You shouldn’t be,” I assure her weakly. “It’s your heritage. It’s fascinating.”
She’s satisfied by that, by the idea that I’m not looking down at her for who she is.
Her dark eyes tell a story, and to me, they tell me that she knows more than I do. That she might even know more about me than I do.
It’s crazy, I know.
But apparently, I’m crazy now.
Sabine guides me to a velvet chair and pushes me gently into it. She glances at Dare.
“Leave us,” she tells him softly. “I’ve got her now. She’ll be fine.”
He’s hesitant and he looks at me, and I nod.
I’ll be fine.
I think.
He slips away.
Sabine rustles about and as she does, I look around. On the table next to me, tarot cards are splayed out, formed in an odd formation, as though I’d interrupted a fortune telling.
I gulp because something hangs in the air here.
Something mystical.
After a minute, Sabine shoves a cup into my hands.
“Drink. It’s lemon balm and chamomile. It’ll settle your stomach and calm you down.”
I don’t bother to ask how she knew I was upset. It must’ve been written all over my face.
I sip at the brew and after a second, she glances at me.
“Better?”
I nod. “Thank you.”
She smiles and her teeth are scary. I look away, and she roots through a cabinet. She extracts her prize and hands me a box.
“Take this at night. It’ll help you sleep.” I glance at her questioningly, and she adds, “Dare told me.”
I take the box, which is unmarked, and she nods. “Your mama used to have trouble sleeping. And she had bouts of nerves, too.”
Sabine has no way of knowing that my ‘bout of nerves’ included hallucinations and hearing voices, so I just smile and thank her.
I glance at her table again. “Are you a fortune-teller, Sabine?” It feels odd to say those words in a serious manner, but the old woman doesn’t miss a beat.
“I read the cards,” she nods. “Someday, I’ll read yours.”
I don’t know if I want to know what they’ll say.
“Have you read Dare’s?” I ask impulsively, and I don’t know why. Sabine glances at me, her black eyes knowing.
“That boy doesn’t need his fortune told. He writes his own.”
I have no idea what that means, but I nod like I do.
“You’ll be ok now,” she tells me, her expression wise and I find myself believing her. She’s got a calming nature, something that settles the air around her. I hadn’t noticed that before.
“My mother never mentioned you,” I murmur as I get to my feet. “I find that odd, since she must’ve loved you.”
Sabine looks away. “Your mother doesn’t have happy memories from here,” she says quietly. “But I know her heart.”
“Ok,” I say uncertainly, as I hover over the threshold. Sabine lays her hand on my shoulder.
“If you need me again, you know where to find me.”
I nod, and then I walk away. I feel Sabine staring at me as I do, but I resist the urge to turn around.
Instead, I focus on how much better Sabine made me feel, how much calmer.
Maybe the tea had valium in it.
As I walk into my room, I’ve decided that I must’ve imagined the whole thing. I haven’t been sleeping well. My mind was playing tricks on me, as minds are prone to do when they’re sleep deprived.
Obviously.
That’s the explanation.
I raise my hand to tuck my hair behind my ear, and that’s when I freeze.
My fingers smell like carnations and stargazers.
Chapter 11
R opes bind me , holding me down, restraining me, biting into me.
I twist and turn, but there’s no getting away from them.
My mind spirals, splinters, fractures, bursting into a million confused pieces.
Light gets in, illuminating, but there’s no truth here. There is only nonsense and puzzles.
I can’t understand,
And
I’m
Not
Sure
I
Want
To.
“Help!” I call out. But my voice echoes down hallways and corridors and rooms. No one is here but me, and I’m alone, and that’s my worst
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