The Amaryllis

by Alyssa Adamson

  If he thought I’d be put off by a few tender marks, he was dead wrong. Despite the nausea creeping into my stomach at the sights whizzing by, I couldn’t stop smiling. Zach would live. He was terrified of Gregory and yanking the phone out of the wall to throw at him the last I saw, but he would live. That was all that mattered.

  “Where are we going?” I inquired. In the silence, it occurred to me that perhaps he’d forgotten I was here at all. Surely he’d only brought me to distance himself from the risk of exposure, but this seemed like a suitable enough distance to dump me.

  “Wherever I deem fit, Eden. Is that agreeable?” he demanded, voice devoid of his usual monotone. He definitely didn’t sound like he’d care whether I found it agreeable or not. “We stayed at that accident for you, we came to the hospital for you, and now where are we? Running from possible world-wide exposure, that’s what you’ve brought down on us.”

  It only made me smile harder. There wasn’t a thing he could do to take away the giddiness flying like butterflies in my middle.

  The yellow walls of the lobby gave way to cool air and the grey haze of a cloudy day. Still, he strode further, rounding corners until he was out of sight of the entrance, either unknowing or uncaring of my fists beating against his back.

  I contained my laughter. Nothing would get me to give him such satisfaction. No matter how happy I was or how much I smiled, Phil’s regret pulsed through me like another stuttering heartbeat.

  “Put me down!” I pictured Zach so I wouldn’t have to dwell on those negative thoughts. For a moment, it worked. I didn’t feel him. I didn’t sense him. All was quiet.

  He put me on my feet, rounding on me with a face like fire and brimstone. My smile cracked and that beat of regret picked up in double-time, racing harder and harder until it threatened to drop me on my knees.

  “Could you stifle that remorse?” I hissed. Rubbing at my forehead, I tried in vain to soothe the pain away. “You’re giving me a migraine.”

  He flinched, eyes darting away from me. Maybe I would’ve felt a touch of his disgust for me if not for the other feelings screaming for dominance. “I know it can be painful. Usually, we ignore feelings that are distasteful—”

  “So what’s making all this regret, then?” I snarled, all happy thoughts that had grounded me in the hospital room long gone. “Regret that you helped me save Zach? Or regret that you saved me at all?”

  I didn’t know which I would’ve hated more.

  “Eden,” he breathed, heated eyes narrowed at the parking lot, rather than on me. “You have to know I wouldn’t regret—”

  “Don’t lie!” Regaining composure in the face of passing visitors, I whispered, “I can tell when you lie.”

  “I could never regret saving you! Even now, when I have every reason to. The thought of living in this world when you are not here is…unthinkable…”

  I cursed Phil all over again for making statements that should’ve made me happy even more incensing. “But you do regret. You regret me saving Zach, then?”

  “Of course not—”

  “You didn’t care when he was burning to death in that car…”

  “Eden, please just—”

  “So why would I expect you’d care if he died in that hospital bed?”

  “I care—”

  “Not if it means possibly exposing you and messing up whatever demented fishing expedition you’ve got going on here. Because that means so much more than his life. A life you took from him—!”

  “I regret walking into your store at all!” he bellowed with both hands—one gloved, one bare—suddenly fixed around my arms and shaking me. Violet eyes wide, he burned holes through my face.

  It took a moment for awareness to flicker to life in my brain. My jaw clenched.

  Phil regretted ever meeting me. Every moment in the store, when he’d drawn my rose. When I’d told him the different meanings of the flowers. Comforting me while Zach lay in the hospital.

  Kissing me in the planetarium.

  “I regret moving to this town. I regret every moment I’ve been unable to resist you that led us to this point,” he continued.

  “Stop.”

  I hadn’t expected him to oblige but he didn’t speak again.

  “Get your hands off me.”

  He cringed away, arms falling to his sides like he didn’t know how they got on me in the first place. The wrathful look on his face fell as he seemed to realize what he’d said had hurt. “Eden—”

  “Maybe it would’ve been better if you hadn’t met me,” I muttered. “It would’ve saved me a lot of trouble. Like rebuilding that greenhouse I shattered.”

  His face burned. “I didn’t—”

  “Like befriending a man who can’t make up his mind.”

  Phil didn’t try to reply. He stood stock still, as a prisoner awaiting punishment would.

  “So go. You don’t want to know me. I don’t want to know you.”

  He chewed on his lip. The soft material of a glove met my cheek only fleetingly before I stepped away, keeping him out of arm’s reach.

  “And do me a favor, Phil.”

  He nodded. “Anything.”

  “Don’t come back. If I’m sad, or lonely, or burning, consider it no longer your business.”

  13. Alone

  Zach made the papers. And the news. And the advertisements on every website I looked at for the next week. Word of his miraculous recovery had spread not only through the US but world-wide as well. Sitting in the library, I’d replayed the reel from Channel 5 on the school computer six times and, still, barely managed a smile.

  Phil sat across the room. The binding of Romeo and Juliet hid his face, but I knew it had to be a front. Even if I didn’t possess the ability to detect his longing and his sadness, I still had eyes. He looked over the book to watch me again and again, shackled by my demand that he leave me alone. Apparently, that jurisdiction only lasted about thirty feet. He’d followed me in here every day.

  Just like any other time, I looked up to scowl at him and he shifted his gaze expertly back to the text, leaving me to wonder if I’d seen him looking at all. Then he’d shift back up and our dance would begin anew.

  The shriek of applauding masses echoed through my earphones, forcing me to look back at the screen. Churches in four states had blown up a still-shot of an interview Zach had done onto huge posters, hanging them from crosses over the statues of Jesus Christ.

  If I’d been in better spirits, it would’ve made me laugh. Zach was about as religious as a pint of pistachio ice cream. But at least he could find this whole thing amusing. Forgetting I was at school, he’d call my new pre-paid phone every other hour to laugh, tone escalating with each new church that revered him as the second coming.

  I was too thrilled that it was his name lighting up my phone to complain. Every time the shrill cry of my ring tone echoed through the room, I’d insist it was my mother to my teachers. They’d all seen the rubble of my once-beloved store. No one argued, looking on me with pity while I went to console my despairing ‘mother.’

  I lived for those calls. They were the only minor joys that got me through the day. My only distraction from that familiar feeling of being well and truly alone. In the halls, Gregory would harass me with talk of ‘little sister’ and unwanted embraces. The rest of the day, my skin prickled with the feel of Phil’s eyes, even when the man himself wasn’t around.

  I’d become attuned to him. No matter how far away he was in the small expanse of this campus, no matter how heavily I engrossed myself in English or Spanish or History, I could sense his presence as easily as if he stood next to me. I knew what he was feeling.

  More often than not, he felt…sad.

  Of course he shifted between the sadness and small, numbing episodes—tuning out lectures, I’d wager. I was just as guilty. From time to time, I found I thought of nothing. But every time he regained focus, it would click to life within me like the snap of a lighter. And then I would feel sad,
too.

  Which wasn’t entirely Phil’s fault. There were plenty of reasons to be sad, not one of which I was ready to admit stemmed from him. It would be as if we’d never met, I assured myself. If that was what he wanted, then I’d be only too happy to give it to him.

  Lily Bronwyn didn’t speak to me. That was one regret I chalked up to my new breed. Maybe I’d hurt her the other day when I’d attempted to suck on her, too.

  Whether because I’d done her damage or because she was as disgusted by my change as Phil, she stared out the window like any other day. As a test, just that morning, I’d pushed my pencil on the floor to see if she would offer it to me, but she hadn’t moved. She hadn’t noticed.

  That was a shame. If I had to pick any Bronwyn to talk to about these new powers, it would’ve been her.

  I had to stop thinking. These days, I was liable to drive myself to madness with all the needless worry and the brooding. Zach was fine. I was fine; better than fine, actually. Insurance had been called and repairs would begin on the greenhouse within the month. My best friend was itching to come back to school. I’d gotten everything I could’ve wanted out of this, except…

  My eyes slid to Phil of their own accord to find him looking back. I didn’t have the energy to scowl so I dropped it and found no joy in the computer screen.

  If not for the threat of reporters and news vans, I would’ve gone to visit Zach, held hostage as he was by testing and observation. Sometimes, I wondered why I hadn’t so far. I stopped myself from glancing at Phil before it could get me in trouble. It was pointless to lie to myself; I knew why I hadn’t gone.

  Because of him.

  Because as much as I was currently devoted to detesting him, I always heard his words in the back of my head. Exposure. If it meant so much to him, I supposed I could save him the worry over at least that much. If only in a farewell gesture.

  The bell rang, shaking me to the core. Thankfully, my books were already packed away to help with situations such as this, where Phil made his movements particularly slow, stare betraying that he was considering ignoring my wishes and crossing the room. I made the decision for him with bag slung over my shoulder and feet moving with purpose toward the exit.

  “Little sister! I’ve been wondering where you went off to.”

  I ducked, narrowly avoiding the arm that would’ve landed across my shoulders. I was getting pretty good at knowing when Gregory was readying to pounce. I’d become quite attuned to him as well, though to a much smaller degree than Phil, and I thanked God for that. Where Phil’s presence sat in the back of my mind like a flickering candle, warm and bright and, at times—as begrudging as I was to admit it—comforting, Gregory’s pierced like a needle in my skull. Every time he fed, a sick sense of glee would pulse through me and whoever sat closest to me would look a hell of a lot more appealing.

  Restraint proved…difficult.

  “Aw, and here I thought we were getting pretty close.”

  “What do you want, Greg?”

  “Just checking in on my favorite newborn,” he grinned, attention shifting to a group of girls that passed on his other side. He reached out for one, letting his knuckles brush against hers. She giggled and whispered to her friends so they all chittered around her.

  I could see why someone that lived forever, like Gregory, would want to spend his existence in a high school. Easy pickings.

  Even when I didn’t intend to feed, my hand would touch someone in the hall, or I’d bump into a teammate in gym, and I’d feel their life course through me like water. I’d since stopped participating while I practiced.

  If I could still speak to Phil, I would’ve gone to him. But that was now out of the question.

  Which left…Gregory. And it hadn’t taken long to convince me that Gregory saw no such need to hold back from mortals. Until Lily decided to come out of whatever mood she was in, that meant I was on my own.

  I sensed Phil’s eyes on my back all the way to Calculus, never coming any closer, never fading away. It was a feeling becoming so painfully familiar that, for once, it didn’t take my breath away. Was it really too much to ask that I could go a day without the reminder of Phil? Sometimes, it felt like I thought of nothing else.

  And I could hardly tell him to beat it; we walked to the same class.

  Ducking into math, I found my seat and immediately set to work at staring down at my desk. That way, when Phil walked in, I didn’t notice him other than the tap of his shoes across the floor. He hesitated before he made it to his chair.

  “Is there a problem, Bronwyn?” McKinnon asked. I chanced a look up to find him glaring over his textbook at Phil, which made me glance over at the Bronwyn in question and a renewed shock of regret hit me. Still staring at me. Shamelessly.

  I should’ve looked away at once but, even after everything, he held a power over me. Every look that passed over his face possessed me. These new powers should’ve made me an expert on the different tastes of the different feelings that wafted off him, but there came times, like right now, that I couldn’t tell what it was that hit me in the unmistakable timbre of his thoughts. It hurt hard. Strong. Sure.

  Whatever it was.

  McKinnon cleared his throat, breaking the trance. “Bronwyn! Eyes up. Butt down.”

  I forced myself to look at the tabletop, wishing he would just sit and save me from McKinnon’s attention. Even after he obliged, I never once doubted that his eyes remained on me.

  The hour passed under the thumb of his stifling disappointment. I took that as a sign that he’d given up on trying to get me to look back, but he never forgot. It gave me the feeling that he did it on purpose, if such a thing were possible. From the beginning of class to the end, I resisted the urge to kick the back of his chair.

  I got the point: he missed me.

  That didn’t matter now. As far as I was concerned, we’d never met.

  As bad as Calculus was, though, Astronomy was worse. I never felt any assurance that Phil looked somewhere other than my back because he didn’t have to. He sat behind me. While I tried to pay diligent attention to Dr. Penn as he scrawled out formulas on the board, I found myself continuously drawn to the presence behind me.

  His stare pricked like fingers on my neck, tugging lightly on my hair and trailing patterns into my skin. Time after time, I resisted looking back to prove it was merely eyes and not his touch making me itch.

  It wasn’t fair. Phil had been the one to wish we’d never met so it should’ve been easy for him to forget me. And then I could stop thinking of him. If he could get his feelings in check, I wouldn’t have to ponder if it was me that was disappointing him. Upsetting him. Occupying his mind.

  He was torturing me.

  I couldn’t take it anymore. I refused to give in to Phil, but I couldn’t—wouldn’t—take one more day of the staring and the emotional bombardment. The moment the bell rang, I took off, away from Astronomy, away from the gym, and away from Phil, throwing up a wall to save me the slap of his surprise. And then, of course, the anguish. He thought I was avoiding him.

  I was.

  Whatever punishment would befall me for skipping gym, I didn’t care. I’d face it later. It wouldn’t be as bad as the detention served for skipping to go to the hospital. Or the look of disappointment on my parents’ faces when they found out it should’ve been a suspension. I wagered it was Zach’s miraculous recovery that had saved me from house arrest.

  Besides, at this point, everyone had so much else on their mind. Like cleaning up glass. And wondering if the second coming of Jesus would be gracing our school with his presence. I doubted anyone would even notice if I didn’t show.

  I took a deep breath before I entered the office. I didn’t want to regret distancing myself from Phil and I told myself any and all feelings of the sort were indigestion. With time, whatever fascination he had for me would fade.

  And that left me with no such feelings of distaste.

  Shoving the door open, I met the sight of whe
at hair falling just short of the collar of her scrubs. Zach’s mother stood at the counter, speaking in hushed tones to the lady behind the computer.

  “Edy!”

  I very nearly jumped out of my skin, struck out of nowhere by a projectile ball of ginger hair and skinny jeans. A foreign shrieking grated against my ear, irritating even myself before I realized it came from me. Zach’s arms wound all the way around my waist, crushing us together. I held him just as tight, breathing him in, relishing in the feel of his face on mine.

  Feeling…tired.

  I jerked away. Skin-on-skin contact had to be off limits while my friend was still recovering. Putting as much space as I could between us in the small corner, I took inventory. He looked fantastic. More than he’d looked in the hospital bed when I’d breathed literal life back into him. His blue eyes glittered with joy, marred only slightly by a splotch of red. My smile wavered.

  “I missed you!” he cheered, reaching out to hug me again.

  I narrowly sidestepped him, leaning against the wall. My head ached, demanding more sustenance and I could see it in him. If I let him hug me now, there was no way he’d come out unscathed.

  “I missed you, too.” I didn’t have to fake the grin from ear to ear. “You look so great! What’s your secret?”

  “I have no idea! But I’m not complaining. Somebody up there must really love me. I don’t even have a headache!”

  “That’s great.” The glint of red in his eye caught my attention again. Could he…

  Maybe. And if he was, he’d already started feeding, unless it was my essence sustaining him.

  “What’s up with the eye?”

  He didn’t seem to register what I meant, at first. But, with time, came the realization. “Oh, it’s a burst blood vessel. Doctors say it’s a miracle, but it probably came out of the head trauma. It’s better than what I should’ve got, anyway.”

  Anyone else would’ve winced. Not Zach.

  “They said I should’ve died. Best case scenario, I should be a vegetable.” He leaned in close, hissing in my ear, “Did you see the news this morning? People pray to me!”