by Abra Ebner
His face was filled with the delight of torturing me. “You’re cute when you’re angry.”
I laughed.
He smirked. “But you’re cuter when you’re happy.”
I wiped the smile off my face and shook my head, finding him, if anything, refreshingly different, not to mention mysterious. He was a man of few words, yet it didn’t make me think he lacked confidence. His outward body language and quick, witty comments had squashed that notion. But even with all that, it still wasn’t what I found so attractive about him—there was something else. I thought for a moment, feeling the way his very presence felt detached from the world, yet attached to me.
I saw my mother driving down the road then. I quit dwelling on details and made a move to stand, thinking that the best thing I could do for myself was stay away from him. He conjured a feeling inside me that I didn’t want to have toward someone like him. He stood as well.
“Well, it was nice to meet you, Max.” My hands fluttered nervously at my sides. I didn’t know whether I should try to shake his hand or not, so I shoved them into the pocket of my sweater instead. It was best to come across as someone that didn’t want trouble, or whatever he spelled-out, in my life.
“You, too, Jane. I look forward to seeing you tomorrow.” He rocked back on his heels, giving me one last smile before he turned and walked away, leaving me teeming with shock in his wake. I watched him—or rather gawked at him—taking in his long stride and slender back. Emily silhouetted his outline, her mouth agape.
I finally pulled my gaze away and stepped off the curb. My brows were sewn together in disbelief. I tilted my head, my mother driving up in front of me. I grasped the door handle and clicked it open.
Had I told him my name?
Emily:
I was tired of waiting for mother after school. Where was Wes? He was supposed to drive us, but he’d disappeared from the face of the Earth for the last few days.
I leaned back against the fence, my eyes fixed on an ant that was running through the grass. It was then that I felt my heart begin to burn with a familiar twang. My whole face contorted as voices began to whisper in my head—soft voices.
I finally looked up, knowing what had been triggering those particular whispers all week. As I suspected, he was there. My attention narrowed, inspecting this brother, the first one I had seen and the one that always seemed to be thinking of Jane.
The whispers that surrounded him were nothing like what I heard around the other new kid—much calmer, and a far cry from the shrill screaming that left me paralyzed every time the other walked by. Something was definitely different about this blue-eyed brother, but I couldn’t decide what. It didn’t make him any less terrifying, but at least it was bearable when he brushed past me in the halls.
He walked down the path from the school toward Jane, determination marking his every step. His thoughts grew louder as he approached, and they really were all about Jane.
I narrowed my eyes and analyzed him, feeling protective of my sister. I know it seemed as though I didn’t give a rat’s ass what happened to Jane, but in truth, I did. I wasn’t as cold-hearted as she thought, just distracted by the simple fact that I’d always heard her thoughts.
Since he was clearly unconcerned by me, I shamelessly took note of his every feature, sizing him up in case I’d have to explain him to the cops one day. He had blackish-brown hair, just like his brother, but something was a lot less sinister in the blue of his eyes.
No one had yet confirmed the fact that they were brothers at all, but I’d heard enough in the workings of their minds to suspect it. They were just so outwardly different from each other. This brother wore boring clothes, seeming to display the fact he came from a less than wealthy family, but then his alleged brother wore expensive designer duds. It didn’t add up.
Then there was the fact of their cars. As far as I knew, the other brother had no car at all. In fact, I had no idea how he got around, and it perplexed me. This brother, though, had a car. He drove a black Land Rover Defender 90. Now, this is where I really get hung up. I know for a fact that those cars are rather rare, and that they’re not exactly cheap, no matter how banged up they seem.
This is where I come up with my theory: Perhaps the one brother chose to spend his allowance on clothes, while this brother decided to blow it all on a hunk of steel.
I dropped my hands to my sides and clenched my fists. No matter what the difference between the two, I still didn’t trust him. There was something dark that surrounded them both, an air of violence and death. He sat next to Jane, and I tried as hard as I could to remain calm. Jane held a similar darkness, and her thoughts were always filled with pain, but that didn’t mean she should confide in this creep.
I watched her eyes move to his face, the pain she endured every moment she lived clearly reflected in them. Her suffering was because of the accident, and my somewhat unconventional attempts to make her get past it hadn’t worked. I could see what she did, and admittedly it was strange, but when compared with the fact that I could see them to begin with, made us both strange. I hadn’t bothered to tell her I knew. I didn’t want her knowing about me. I knew she worried enough as it was.
I thought back to the remark I’d made this morning in the car. I knew it was cruel to comment about our father’s death as though it hadn’t affected me, but I thought that if I made it seem like no big deal, she would snap out of this dreary trance and be happy. I narrowed my eyes, watching him as he spoke to her. Jane’s head was facing forward now, her eyes fixed on the ground. Her cheeks began to flush then, and she laughed.
The laughter echoed in my head like a far away and forgotten sound. I rarely saw her laugh, even with Wes. I stared at her beauty in that moment, and it was as though I was seeing her for the first time. My curiosity grew. Who was this stranger? And how was it he could make her laugh? The dark air around her seemed to change to a lighter shade of grey. Confused, I tried to decide whether to rush over there and scare him off, or wait here and allow the happiness in her to grow. God knows she deserved it.
I grumbled, finding myself torn. I looked away from them, seeing Mother’s car crest the hill. I pushed away from the fence, planning to storm up to Jane and pull her away. As I thought this, the boy stood, walking away from her before I even got the chance.
He walked in my direction but my eyes remained focused on Jane. Her face was filled with excitement, like a girl falling in love for the first time. I gawked at her, wondering why she would allow him to be in her company when she knew so little about him. Besides, I knew our mother would never approve, especially when it came to the tattoos.
He was close to me now, and just as he passed, I finally allowed myself to look. He glanced down at me, giving me a polite nod, followed by a confident yet friendly wink. I glared at him, my mouth pursed with anger. Was that supposed to make me trust him? Because it sure wasn’t working…
When he was safely out of earshot, I crouched low.
“Jane,” I hissed. My attention turned to her as she opened the car door. “What are you doing?”
She rolled her eyes at me. “What are you on, Em?” She demanded.
I was just trying to be nice, but she had to hit me with that. I clammed up.
Jane snorted. “You’re pathetic.”
I felt my jaw grind. I was just trying to protect her. “Nothing is more pathetic than you.” I spat bitterly, the words forming on my lips before I could stop them. “You’re hopeless. He just pities you. That’s the only reason he even talked to you in the first place.”
My mouth continued to spew things I didn’t want to say. I couldn’t help it. I didn’t want to hate her, but she didn’t understand what I went through, what I heard.
Nobody did.
Wes:
The light in her room flicked on, beaming through the blinds and onto the wall of my room. I sat up in bed, feeling better after lying in the dark for close to three hours. I looked at the clock, seeing it was just past midnight. I’d
been sneaking around for the past few days, hiding out of fear that someone would notice how sick I was. I left the house before the sun came up—retreating back to the woods where I simply slept in my car—and came home well after dark. My foster parents hadn’t cared, but seeing they were elderly, they weren’t really all there as it was.
I rolled over, looking across the room and through the blinds. I saw movement in Jane’s room. I sat up, squinting through the slender openings as Jane looked into a mirror on the back of her door.
I winced, trying to stretch my aching muscles. I grabbed the almost-empty bottle of Aspirin off the side table, wishing it were something stronger. I popped the top, rolling the last four from inside. There was a stale glass of water I’d gotten yesterday sitting beside it. I popped the remaining pills in my mouth, drinking the musty water with my nose plugged. I let out a contented sigh, placing the glass back on the side table as water dripped from my chin. I looked back toward Jane.
Our rooms were across the alley from each other, and since we were little, we would write notes and tape them to the window. It had been a while since she’d left me anything, and I attributed it to the dent in our now failing friendship—or whatever it was. I watched her eyes, seeing her look through the mirror toward my window, but she couldn’t see me through the blinds. I often observed her, feeling drawn to her every move.
In this part of Glenwood Springs, each townhouse was lined close to the other, trees and plants engulfing most of the yards. The neighborhood was meant to house recreational skiers during the winter months, but being that Jane and I didn’t come from wealthy families, we lived here too. The upside was that during summer, no one was around except those that also liked to hike and explore the steam caves.
I slowly moved out of bed, hearing as every joint in my body cracked. The owl outside chortled, the same owl I’d heard for the past week. I shuddered. Owls were an omen of death, and I couldn’t help but think it was warning me.
The shirt I was wearing fit tighter than it ever had. I tried to pull the hem over the length of my stomach, but it wouldn’t go. My body was growing at an alarming rate, like a second growth spurt, though I really didn’t need one.
I looked sideways at myself in the mirror that was tilted against the wall. Despite what was happening, I enjoyed the way I was changing. I’d always been the runt throughout middle school, though it was handy when it came to wrestling. Being short had given me a bulked up advantage, as well as speed.
I stood as tall as my muscles would allow. I had to be close to six feet now. I ducked to see my height in the mirror. My stomach grumbled as I did. I was starving again, like I hadn’t eaten in days though it seemed like it was all I was doing.
I shuffled closer to the window, grabbing the chair from my desk. I pulled it toward me and sat, hooking my fist under my chin.
Jane pulled her long brown hair from her face, her skin pale and her eyes drawn. She looked tired, like she’d slept about as well as I had. She moved and sat on her bed, staring into her hands. I watched as her chest rose and fell, breathing steadily. I groaned with pain as another wave of soreness pulsed through my muscles. I rubbed my arm, massaging the bruised tissue beneath.
I looked down at a particularly tender spot near my elbow, seeing the mauve of the bruise peaking through the skin. Whatever was happening to me was getting worse. My foster mother thought I was just growing, but at this point, I began to wonder if it wasn’t something chronic, something I’d gotten from my parents that I wouldn’t know about. I was due to see the doctor next week, but I was beginning to question if I’d even make it that long.
I saw Jane once again move from the corner of my eye. I diverted my attention back to her, squinting through the blinds. She grabbed something off the floor and brought it into her lap. It was her drawing book. She had books and books of drawings that she hid under her bed. Only I knew because I watched her. She pushed herself against the headboard and began to sketch. Her brows were fraught, her energy seeping through her hands and onto the page.
I wanted to know what it was that she drew, and what it was she saw. Though we were best friends, it was something she’d never shared with me. It hurt to know that, but I respected her privacy.
At least sometimes.
Jane:
The nightmare—I had to get it out. I sat up in bed and turned on the light. I looked out my window and across the alley toward Wes’s room. The blinds were shut. I slid from under the covers, my feet touching the cold wood floor. I inspected my skin out of habit. The blood I’d seen coating my face in the dream was now gone. I relished the breath in my lungs, my heart racing to force oxygen to my limbs.
I was alive.
It was just a dream.
I leaned my weight onto my feet and stood as my sleep shirt fell around me. I walked to the mirror, inspecting my hollow reflection. Max had been in the dream tonight. I’d never seen him there before, but for some reason, having him there made the horror of the whole scene easier to digest. I attributed his presence to the fact that my mind was still buzzing from earlier, his blue eyes like a beacon guiding me home.
I looked in the mirror and back at Wes’s window. Sometimes at night he would notice my light on and we’d pass notes for a while until I could fall asleep. But we hadn’t done that in a long time. I wanted desperately to talk to someone, but perhaps Wes wasn’t the right person anymore. I shut my eyes, regretting the choices I’d made. I had no one. All that could console me now was my drawing.
I went back to my bed and sat down, staring for a moment before reaching for my drawing book and pencil. I pulled it out from under the bed and sat back, pulling my legs to my chest. I drew Max’s face as it remained in my mind like a shadow, every feature clear as day, and every silver fleck of his eyes as sharp as they were when we were sitting on the curb.
I drew the death around us, the bodies and the blood. The only thing that brought me any comfort within that world was his face—his undead face.
These were things I should not see, but for whatever reason, I did.
Max:
I saw Jane through the trees in the forest of her dream. She wore a blue spring dress that contrasted sharply with the blood on her hands. My gaze fell to the nape of her neck, following the gentle arch of her back and down the long luxurious locks of her perfectly tousled brown hair. I felt a tightening in my chest at the sight, every inch of my being aching to be near her.
Though I’d always remained in the shadows, I wanted her to see me. I wanted her to know who I was. She needed to understand that she wasn’t alone—that she never had been. I walked into the clearing, exposing myself for the first time. I placed one foot before the other, my hands clasped behind my back and my wings hidden. She saw me immediately, stunned to see another living face.
At first her brown eyes glittered with fear, but after a while the fear began to subside. The freckles on her cheek stood out against the pale rose of her skin, and it was here that I noticed how much she resembled her father. I stopped, watching her casually, the gentlest smile touching my lips. She watched me in return, her features relaxing as time passed. The bodies lay around us, the bodies of lost souls she didn’t know. They were not dead as she expected, but rather dying, as they would here for all eternity—lost in the in-between.
I knew that when I saved her, I’d made a mistake. She was stuck on Earth, but her heart was here in the in-between. I cheated the rules of death to save her, but if she had gone, I would have never seen her again. I couldn’t risk losing what I’d longed to find. After all, I was stuck in the in-between, and now she was too.
She stepped toward me, and I stood tall. The grass in the field filled the air with a soft rustle. She drew close, drawn by curiosity and her own insatiable need to be near me. Now standing a foot apart, she stopped. I tilted my head slightly, my eyes scanning her face. She reached up to touch my cheek, but her hand halted as she saw her fingers drip with blood. Looking away from me, I saw the sting of sham
e in her eyes. I tried to grab her hand before she began to disappear, but there was little I could do to stop her from running.
I’d lost her.
Emily:
I lay awake in the dark. A light came on outside my window, the light from my sister’s room. I stood, walking to the window, looking at the light as it hit Wes’s house across the alley. I drew in a slow breath, sensing Jane. She was as restless as I was.
I bit my lip, the burden of my secret weighing on my shoulders. I wanted to tell her about the things I’d heard today, but I couldn’t. I never told Jane anything. I saw movement behind Wes’s blinds. He was watching her, like he always did. He thought no one could see him—that no one knew how in love he was. But I could—I could hear him.
I sighed. I liked Wes, and it pained me to see Jane treat him the way she did when his thoughts were so full of love for her. The truth was that I was angry. I was jealous that she had people look upon her with adoration the way they did. People respected Jane, but she seemed oblivious to their affections, instead thinking that the whole world was against her.
I crept away from the window and fished through my coat pocket from earlier today, finding the bottle of pills I’d gotten from yet another willing senior. I went back to bed, climbing under the covers where I dug a book from beneath. I opened to a page that was blank and stared at it. They were all blank.
The book was old, a family heirloom I’d found in the attic long ago. I wanted to use it as a journal, but when a pen was placed on the page, it wouldn’t allow it to write. The book was magick, I was convinced of that. How it got here was a whole other question.
I hugged the book to my chest. I was afraid of the things I saw when I fell asleep, this world of life, destruction, and the creatures there. This book linked me to it somehow, but I could never figure out why. I shut it, pushing it back under my pillow. I knew I was different, but I was afraid no one would believe me. They’d tell me I’m schizophrenic and put me in a hospital, drug me as I’d already done on my own.
