by T B Gayle
All the Tricks of Their World
T.B. Gayle
Copyright © 2018 by T.B. Gayle
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review. For more information, address: [email protected]
FIRST EDITION
www.tbgayle.com
I
‘We may as well just switch off the lights and be done with it,’ said a voice. Maisie knew she should have opened her eyes and tried to see who it was, but her head was throbbing, and she wasn’t quite sure where she was or why she seemed to be sprawled upon the floor. She could remember not feeling the best, but that was pretty much all she could remember.
‘They’ve got to her, just like the others,’ said the voice.
‘We can still save her,’ said another. Maisie was sure the last voice sounded like someone she knew, but when she took a quick peek, all she saw, besides an assortment of five-minute noodles, yoghurt, and fruit lying all around her, was a girl huddled in the corner of the room near the kitchen. The girl was wearing torn clothes. She had wild hair and the most dark and disturbing eyes.
It was strange; Maisie felt like she hadn’t quite woken, like she was in this half asleep, half dreaming daze. That wasn’t the worst of it, either. Her shoulder ached, and she had the most awful thumping in her head; so awful that she could barely keep her thoughts together. She had no idea what was going on. All she knew was she didn’t want to spend any more time alone with the girl than she already had. There was just something about the girl, something that didn’t seem right. Maisie knew she had to get up, to try to get somewhere safe. When she tried, though, the whole room jittered and exploded like a wave of darkness crashing down upon her.
By the time Maisie’s head had had time to piece her scattered thoughts back together, she found herself looking up at the girl, who’d crept right in front of her. It was hard to know what to worry about more: the girl and her vacant stare, or the fact that Maisie couldn’t remember what had happened. All she knew was that the girl had the most terrifying eyes she’d ever seen.
II
Isobel couldn’t stop staring at her new friend, unable to believe what was happening. She’d been so sure nothing good would ever happen to her in this world, but then, somehow, she’d met Maisie; someone else trapped here just like her. ‘How’d they trick you into this?’ said Isobel. ‘It was the bridge, wasn’t it?’ That was the last thing she could remember: fighting with her strength failing her before a long bridge that she and Pascal had been so sure was going to lead them from the darkness.
She took Maisie’s hand and pulled her towards the door. All she could think about was finally finding a way out of the illusion of a world she’d been stuck in. But she should have known it was never going to be as easy as just rushing outside and having Maisie point out the way. A man and a woman stood waiting. Worse still, behind them was a whole landing full of people.
‘You two weren’t meant to meet,’ said the woman. That’s when Isobel knew who all the people were. This was their world.
Isobel squeezed Maisie’s hand, hoping to catch her eye so they could turn and leap together into the midst of their captors and make them pay for all they’d done; but Maisie wouldn’t look at her. It was like she couldn’t stop staring at all the glowing eyes. No, Isobel wanted to scream. With all the strength she could muster, she pulled Maisie back into the flat, and with a spin, tried to kick the door closed behind her.
‘You can’t trust them. They get into here,’ said Isobel, pointing to her head. ‘They make you think your thoughts are all wrong.’
‘What are you doing? Get out of my flat,’ said Maisie. That’s when Isobel realised she’d dragged her friend away too late. They were in Maisie’s head now, whispering their illusions, making her see what they wanted her to see.
‘You have to fight it,’ said Isobel. ‘You know who we are. You know what they’ve done to us.’ Isobel wasn’t sure Maisie did know, though. She was looking at Isobel like she’d never seen her before, like she would have preferred not to be seeing her now.
‘We fought shadows in the darkness,’ Isobel tried to explain, but it wasn’t something that was that easy to explain, especially to someone who had a whole world whispering to her that it had never happened.
‘Are you bonkers?’ said Maisie. She tried to push past Isobel towards the bedroom, but Isobel knew she couldn’t let Maisie lock herself away in there. They didn’t have much time; not if Isobel was to get Maisie remembering again before the world dug its claws too deep inside her.
Isobel grabbed Maisie, rather roughly, and made her look into her eyes. And as soon as Isobel started to see the same glimmer of awakening as before, she said, ‘How do we get out of here?’ But Maisie never got the chance to answer. She was torn from Isobel’s grasp like her jumper had got caught in a train hurtling by. The man from outside was holding her. As Maisie struggled, he lifted and threw her to the ground, causing her to crash amongst the bags of groceries and whack her head upon the floor.
After that, the woman and an endless procession of people began piling into the room. Some paused to check on Maisie, but most stood there staring at Isobel with their shining eyes. Your tricks won’t work with me, Isobel wanted to shout at them. She didn’t need to, though. She could tell by the concerned glances between each of them how worried they were about her.
‘You don’t need to keep doing this,’ said the woman. ‘We made this world so we could all be safe, even you, Isobel. You know that. You know all we’ve been doing is trying to help you.’
Isobel could feel how they were trying to help her; she could feel their thoughts in her head. It was like they wanted to show her this terrible picture of herself. But Isobel already knew that’s how everyone saw her. She knew that was why Maisie had hurried past her so fast when Isobel had been waiting outside.
That wasn’t how it went, Isobel reminded herself. Maisie had recognised her, their souls both lost to the same fate. But as the thoughts of the world grew louder, it was like it had never happened, like she’d just followed Maisie into her flat. And that was the most ridiculous thing. Why would I do that? Isobel wanted to shout at them.
‘You’ve suffered enough,’ said the woman. ‘You don’t need to suffer here.’ Then, almost if to show Isobel she meant what she’d said, the woman motioned with her hand, and all the people began disappearing from the room. ‘Appreciate the time you have,’ said the woman. She gave Isobel a long, concerned look. Then, after checking on Maisie and whispering something to the man, she left with him.
Isobel knew she was in trouble. She knew this wasn’t going to be the last she saw of them, but all she could really think about was her friend lying there on the floor.
I didn’t do that to her, Isobel tried to tell whoever would listen. The trouble was, the only ones listening were the ones wanting her to think that she had. And it was so hard not to listen to the thoughts they’d put inside her head, not to think what they were telling her to think. Then there was Maisie, looking up at her with such fear and dread. I didn’t, Isobel wanted to tell her. And there were so many other things she wanted to say as well, like it was all going to be okay, that they could still make it out, that they still had each other. But when Isobel reached down to touch Maisie’s bruised face, she knew none of that was true; there was this look of horror upon it.
Why did you do this to her? Isobel wanted to shout. She should have been the one they’d been after. She should have been the one on the floor. She didn’t understand it. But then Isobel heard footsteps outside on the landing, and it all started to make more sense. S
he knew who was out there even before she ran to the door to check. It was the same illusion of her friend they always used when they wanted Isobel to think that her thoughts of making it out were nothing but her rubbish mind not working right.
She took a deep breath. There was one thing they hadn’t planned for, though: all Isobel had to do was glance at Maisie and see how awful she was looking to realise she couldn’t let them do the same to her. So, before their pretend Pascal could turn up and do his worst, Isobel ran for the bedroom, slamming the door behind her.
III
The light was on in the far flat, the one next to Pascal’s, and the door was wide open like someone was about to step out. Oh great, thought Pascal. He almost felt like turning around, and he probably would have if he’d had anywhere else to go. It wasn’t that he didn’t like his neighbour; they were just different. He was quiet, and she was one of those party girl types. She hadn’t actually had any parties since she’d moved in, but Pascal knew it was just a matter of time. That’s probably what she’s up to, thought Pascal. He could imagine her in there, getting the food and the drinks all sorted and picking the songs that were going to be keeping him awake all night. That was the thing: he didn’t mind her having a good time, it was just he had to get up early for work, and that was hard enough without being kept awake by some party going on all night next door.
If she comes out, all you have to do is nod, Pascal told himself. They didn’t need to have some deep conversation and pretend they were friends or anything like that. Pascal hurried the last few metres towards his door, thinking he might luck it out and make it inside without the need for any nodding or awkward pretending that they were glad to see each other. Just as he was reaching for his door, though, his neighbour rushed out, and wrapped Pascal in her arms.
I got that a bit wrong, he thought. Not that he was complaining; being hugged by his neighbour was a lot nicer than thinking she couldn’t stand him. She’d looked kind of disappointed when they’d first met, like she’d been hoping he was going to be some cool guy that she could have hung out with and had some fun. But maybe she’d just been nervous too, thought Pascal. That was the thing, it wasn’t like she could’ve been that disappointed in him; hugs weren’t something girls gave to just anyone. It had almost seemed like she’d been there waiting for him, like she’d been planning it all afternoon.
Should I say something? wondered Pascal. He was worried that if he said something it might break the spell and she’d realise he wasn’t that great a guy and that she probably should have chosen someone better to wait all afternoon to hug.
Pascal wasn’t sure what to do. Was he meant to kiss her like in one of those movies? Or was she maybe expecting him to tell her he loved her or something like that? He knew that he liked her, and he liked how she felt pressed against him, but he wasn’t sure telling her he liked her was quite what she was wanting to hear. The truth was, he would’ve told her anything if it meant that she’d take him inside, throw him down on her bed, and start making him feel a whole lot better about things. And he did like her. He’d liked her from the moment he’d first saw her wearing that cute flowery dress, her neck and her shoulders almost seeming like they were glowing beneath it.
It was all a bit of a surprise really, especially considering how bad Pascal had been feeling about things. He’d kind of convinced himself there wasn’t much for anyone to really like about him. It’s just easy to get down about stuff like that, Pascal told himself.
He put his hand to his neighbour’s head and brushed back her hair, wanting to see just how lucky he’d got, when he noticed the red lump on her head. ‘You don’t look great. I mean, you look great but not well, you know,’ he said. Luckily, she wasn’t really listening. She had her eyes closed and looked like she was about to fall. So Pascal let her lean against him and then he gently helped her back into her flat, lowering her onto the couch.
The place looked just the same as his: a living room – in bad need of a paint job – with a small kitchen off to the side, the bedroom and bathroom out the back. It was a fair bit tidier than his, though. He’d been worried there might have been empty wine bottles or whatever scattered everywhere, but all there was were some groceries all over the floor. They’re always a pain to put away, thought Pascal. It made him feel a bit better about the hug; it wouldn’t have been the same if he’d found out she’d been falling down drunk when she’d given it to him. That falling down part would have at least explained the lump on her head. Maybe, she’s just clumsy, thought Pascal. That wasn’t a deal breaker or anything. He’d put up with her running into a few cupboards here and there if it meant he could get hugs like this whenever he came home feeling all miserable.
IV
‘We both look like we’ve had pretty rough days,’ said Pascal. Maisie opened her eyes and found herself lying on the couch, her neighbour leaning over her. He looked nervous, like he was just as worried as Maisie that the girl that had done this to her might burst from the bedroom and do even worse.
Maisie could barely remember what had happened. The girl had been outside her neighbour’s flat, and then for some reason, as Maisie walked by, she’d started following her. It was almost like the girl had known Pascal, that she’d been waiting for him, that she hadn’t liked finding out who’d moved in next door to him.
Were they going out? Maisie wondered. Her head was aching too much to want to think about that. She wasn’t sure which of them she would have felt sorrier for.
‘Pascal, I need to talk to you about something,’ said Maisie. When she was about to begin telling him how crazy the girl had been acting and ask if he knew her, the colour drained from his face almost like he knew what she was about to tell him. That made Maisie pause and wonder if she wasn’t the first neighbour of his to have had a run-in with the girl. The truth was, no-one had bothered to tell her what had happened to whoever had been in the flat before her. She couldn’t help imagining the girl with a knife in her hand and person after person looking up surprised, Pascal popping his head in, sighing, and putting the ‘for lease’ sign back up on the window. That didn’t exactly help her feel a whole lot better. She felt terrible. It was like something had gone haywire inside her. She had this loud buzzing in one of her ears and she was sure she wasn’t seeing things the way she was meant to be seeing them. There had to be something really wrong with her; people didn’t just black out and hear voices for no reason. It had to be something awful. The more she sat there listening to the buzzing and feeling the awful thumping in her head, the more sure she was that she had something really wrong with her. She was about to ask Pascal if he thought she looked like someone who should be seeing a doctor when she heard a bang and a crash coming from the bedroom.
V
Is there someone in there? wondered Pascal. He stared at the bedroom door, thinking it quite odd that it was closed in the first place. It didn’t make much sense, not when Maisie was living alone and the place was barely big enough to stretch her arms in as it was. But maybe that’s it, maybe she hasn’t been here alone, thought Pascal. Maybe she hadn’t whacked her head on some cupboard, either. That wasn’t the greatest of thoughts. He didn’t want to think about her here alone with some guy, especially not one that had done something bad enough to send her running outside needing to be held or whatever.
He couldn’t help feeling a bit disappointed by it all. He’d got his hopes up after the hug, and now finding out how she spent her days didn’t leave him exactly feeling the best. As bad as it sounded, he didn’t feel like getting snapped in half trying to protect her from some guy she’d liked well enough to have wound up alone in her flat with, no matter what had happened after.
What if she’s just got some cat in there? he asked himself. It sure would have been a bit weird to be mad at her when the bang had just been some cat knocking something over. The trouble was, the only way to tell was to open the door. He could’ve asked her about it, he supposed, but how was he meant to ask her if she was hiding
some guy in her bedroom without it coming across like he thought she was the kind of girl that hid guys in her bedroom.
Maisie was holding her head and staring into the distance like she was trying to think of some way to explain it all. Let’s get it over with, Pascal told himself. He opened the door, half-heartedly covering his face like some awkward, gangly boxer stepping into the ring who was only just realising he probably should have trained for this.
‘No, wait,’ said Maisie. Pascal wasn’t sure what she’d got so worked up about. The room was empty. There was no-one in there. All Pascal saw was an open window with a curtain flailing and a lamp lying on the floor.
‘There’s the culprit,’ said Pascal.
Maisie swept past him, looked about, then headed into the bathroom. She came straight back out looking relieved, which was odd seeing as she hadn’t done any relieving in there as far as he could tell. Everyone has their quirks, Pascal reminded himself. He knew Maisie probably would have thought he was a bit odd too if she’d known he’d been imagining some half-naked guy lying on her bed and all that.
Pascal was about to take a deep breath and relax when he realised that the bedroom being empty meant that she really had run out and hugged him because she’d liked him and had been thinking about him all day. There was no other reason for it now. It was a nice thing to realise, but it kind of jangled with his nerves. He knew she was probably wondering why he hadn’t said anything, why he hadn’t tried to make a move, but the whole crash in the bedroom had thrown him. Besides, Maisie wasn’t exactly looking that well. He was pretty sure picking her up and throwing her on the bed when she had a lump on her head and could barely keep her eyes open was going to be one of those things that was going to get him into all sorts of trouble later. She looked half asleep. Do people hug people when they’re sleepwalking? he wondered.
