Nine

by Rachelle Dekker

  “You’re talking to yourself again, weirdo,” the little girl mocked.

  This is your mind. You’re in charge here. Focus on level one.

  I brushed the mean girl’s comments away and returned to the task at hand.

  Let’s talk through what usually happens next.

  “I follow the girl into the city, through the crowd.”

  “Hey,” the girl said. “Don’t talk about me like I’m not here.”

  Maybe don’t follow her then.

  “But she takes me to the box.”

  Have you tried going anywhere else?

  No, I always followed the girl. I glanced down to ask the child what else was here, and for the first time she wasn’t there. In her place was a wasp. Black and yellow striped, crawling along the wooden planks of the bench toward me. Faster than I could move, it was on my hand, crawling across my skin. I froze, watched it creep over the soft flesh that covered my fingers. I wanted to swat it away, but for some reason I thought better of it. Maybe it was supposed to be there.

  A moment passed as the wasp searched for something, and I remained perfectly still. Then as if I knew its thoughts, I knew it wanted to sting me, and I couldn’t have that. Faster than humanly possible, I lifted my opposite hand. The world slowed. I watched the wasp move its abdomen to sink its stinger deep in my skin, and I squashed it under my palm.

  The sound of flesh smacking flesh echoed, and I raised my eyes to see that all the people that had occupied both sides of this dream world were gone. I was completely alone.

  Except for the wasp, which I had just murdered. I lifted my palm, and the dead, crumpled wasp fell to the ground at my feet. I was suddenly overwhelmed with the sorrow of loss. I had no one now. I had killed the only other living thing.

  Lucy, what is happening? Your heart rate is spiking.

  “I killed it.”

  Killed what?

  “My friend.”

  You didn’t. This isn’t real. It’s just in your mind.

  “It feels real.”

  I know.

  “Now I’m alone.”

  The words triggered another change in the world. Everything vanished and was replaced by a cellar. A dark room that smelled damp and felt frozen. I was no longer sitting on a bench but rather a cold concrete floor that met molding stone walls. The ceiling was low; a tall man would scrape the top of his head against it. There was only one door, slightly ajar, across from where I was sitting.

  I stood, my head quite a distance from the ceiling because my body was small again. I was a child. I was remembering something from being a child. Someone spoke, a voice I didn’t know but recognized. I’d heard the person before but couldn’t remember their face or name.

  “Ninety-six hours. Failure isn’t an option,” the voice said.

  A small, trembling cry began. From inside me. I was the one crying. With that the door clanged shut and the world was completely black. I screamed as I rushed to the shut door, stumbled over my feet, and sprawled to the hard ground. My head collided with the concrete, and pain exploded down my neck and spine.

  I shook the pain loose, pushed to standing, and felt for the rough wood of the door. I began to bang on it, open palmed, screaming at the top of my lungs. “Don’t leave me here, please! I’m sorry, I’ll be better. Don’t leave me. I’m afraid. I’m afraid!”

  My small voice broke from the emotion, terror gripping my chest. A different kind than I remembered in the glass box. This terror came from being utterly alone.

  Lucy, you’re okay. You’re safe. Remember.

  “I’m not! I’m alone in the dark.”

  You’re not alone. I’m with you.

  “I’m alone. And I killed my only friend.”

  Lucy, take a deep breath. You’re not alone. I am with you.

  I cried in agony and tucked myself into a corner. I wanted to believe Zoe, but the terror and loneliness were so strong. I could hardly think past them as they began to swallow my mind.

  I’m here with you. I’m squeezing your hand. Can you feel it?

  I felt nothing.

  Imagine it, Lucy. Me holding your hand, my fingers intertwined with yours. Feel my palm. It’s touching yours. You are not alone.

  I brought my palm up in front of my face. I couldn’t see it through the dark, but I knew it was there. “I don’t feel it.”

  Focus on my touch. My voice. Use it to anchor you.

  I did as she said, and a slight tingle pulsed in the middle of my hand.

  “I felt something,” I said through my tears. I sniffed them back. My heart slowed, and my mind expanded past the fear.

  Good. That’s me. With you.

  I felt the pulse deeper. Stronger. Somehow, in the dark and completely alone, I could feel her.

  Lucy, where are you? What do you see?

  “Nothing. It’s too dark.” I sniffed the last of my sorrow away and wiped the back of my hand across my nose. “I’m in a stone room. They locked me in for failing something.”

  Seeley says they called it the pit.

  My mind riffled through a flash of memories. We all feared the pit. A place where we went if we didn’t perform as expected. I was taken there after I couldn’t stop myself from being afraid of the water prison. The day the man in the red tie had come to watch. The leader of the free world. I was remembering more of that day.

  Suddenly I felt too tired to keep my eyes open. I dropped my hand and lay down against the cold floor.

  Lucy.

  “I think I’ll just sleep for a while.”

  Okay. You sleep.

  And I did, curled on the icy ground, Zoe’s voice warming my mind. I fell into a deep sleep.

  SEELEY WALKED INTO the living room of the main house. The fire was roaring, the stars outside peeking through the windows. His right hand held a cold beer, his other rested comfortably in his pocket. They’d made progress today.

  Another memory recovered. Lucy had tried to go back and discover more, but she kept coming to the same end. Whether she wanted to kill the wasp or not, she always did, and then the events that followed played out almost exactly as they had when they were fresh. She’d tried rushing after the little girl again, only to find the glass box was the same. Even with Zoe’s voice in her head, Lucy couldn’t overcome the fear.

  They’d progressed, but at a snail’s pace. Seeley knew they were running out of time. But he wouldn’t think about that right now. Instead he’d give himself the moment to focus on the wins. Using the connection between Zoe and Lucy had been a smart move. A win.

  Zoe and Gina sat in the living room. Gina stood, near-empty whiskey glass in hand, to take her leave. She paused by Zoe on the couch. “I’m surprised you helping was so successful. What gave you the idea?”

  “Like I said, I have some experience,” Zoe replied.

  “I’d like to hear about it someday,” Gina said.

  “I’m sure you would.”

  Even in the dim lighting of the room, Seeley could see the wedge of distrust that cut deeper between the women. Gina ignored it, leaned forward, clinked her glass against Zoe’s, and downed the rest of her drink. “Well, good work. Good night,” she said.

  Zoe watched the doctor leave as Seeley sat across from her in one of the plush green chairs and crossed his ankle over his opposite knee. He brought the bottle to his lips and took a deep chug of its contents, all while waiting for Gina to climb the stairs and shut her bedroom door.

  He let another beat pass. Then he nodded toward the stairs. “What’s going on with you two?”

  Zoe kept her eyes on the fire. “I just don’t trust people like her.”

  “Do you ever trust anyone?” he asked.

  She glanced at him, and her facial expression was answer enough.

  He huffed in amusement and took another swallow of beer. “You did good today.”

  “I didn’t really do anything.”

  “Yes you did. You held her hand. Kept her grounded. That’s more than any of us could
have done.”

  “No, just more than Gina could have done. I mean, with a last name like Loveless, what would you expect?” Zoe continued.

  Seeley chuckled and couldn’t deny her obvious point. “So how did you know that was going to work?”

  “I didn’t, I just hoped it would.”

  “Because of your own experience with RMT.”

  Zoe just stared into the fire.

  “If you want to talk about it—”

  “I don’t, and it’s no big deal.”

  Seeley dropped his leg and leaned forward. “Come on, Zoe—”

  “Back off, okay?” she snapped. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  Seeley was taken aback and pressed his lips firmly together. “Okay,” he said, leaning back into the chair once more.

  She was scratching her forearm hard and noticed him watching. She stopped and tucked her fingers into her lap. “Sorry, something about Gina just really gets under my skin. Besides, we don’t have to do this. It’s not like we’re ‘friends.’” She made air quotes with her fingers.

  Seeley playfully grabbed for his heart and scrunched his face in offense. “That one cuts me deep.”

  She rolled her eyes, and a slight grin pulled at her lips. Lips he found himself staring at far too much.

  “Please, I don’t know anything about you,” she said.

  “Well, what do you want to know?” he asked.

  “I didn’t mean—”

  “No, ask me anything you want.”

  She stared at him, half of her face lit by the firelight, the other side covered in shadows. She was thinking, her eyes daring her lips to say what her mind was wondering. It made his heart skip.

  A smile played across her mouth as she asked, “What’s your favorite color?”

  He laughed out loud. The first real laugh he could remember in a long time.

  She chuckled at her own cleverness. “You can tell a lot about a person from their favorite color,” she teased. She was flirting openly now.

  “Black,” he said.

  “Like your soul. How fitting.”

  “Takes one to know one,” he tossed back.

  Zoe gave an authentic laugh, and it made his cheeks warm. She threw him, and that was dangerous, but he didn’t want it to stop.

  “Ask me a real question,” he tempted.

  “How did you get mixed up in all this?” she asked.

  “It’s complicated. And it wasn’t what I thought it was going to be. I was told we were changing the world, making it a safer place for our kids.”

  “Do you have kids?”

  This was where he should lie, run, pull a reverse move, but he didn’t. Maybe against his better judgment he didn’t. “Yes, I have a daughter.”

  She looked stunned, surprise flashing across her eyes. She hadn’t expected that answer.

  His sweet girl danced through his brain, and he dropped Zoe’s intense stare. “Her name is Cami and she’ll be eleven next month.” He let a beat of silence linger as his blonde beauty lingered in his memory. “She wants a pink camo bike for her birthday. I have no idea where to get something like that.” He returned Zoe’s gaze. “Speechless? Is this a first?”

  “Sorry, I’m just—”

  “Surprised,” he finished. “Black being my favorite color and all.” He drank from his beer bottle.

  “And her mother?” Zoe asked.

  He’d worked up a backstory that he knew would hit close to home. Use a little truth and twist the facts enough to make Zoe’s heart race. All good lies were sprinkled with truth.

  “Dead,” he replied. Partly true. She was dead to him.

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t be. She chose it.” Seeley could tell from her curious expression that more would be required. “She fell for a religious extremist’s fairy tales, locked herself in a church, and set it on fire from the inside. Thirty-seven total fried alive.”

  Lies, but good ones, and closer to the truth than was comfortable. His wife had fallen for her pastor, and the two had justified their affair by “the calling of God.” Then they’d set his entire life on fire, took his daughter, left him with nothing. Imagining Steph’s body as charred was easier than seeing her flourish in the home of another man.

  “Apparently, their sacrifice secured their heavenly inheritance,” he finished.

  Understanding flashed across Zoe’s face, paired with terror and shock. He knew his personal story connected with her because of her scarred past. But she didn’t know he knew. Not yet.

  “Religion is a cruel mistress,” Zoe said, hardly above a whisper.

  “That’s an unusual response,” Seeley said. “Usually people are too shocked to say anything. Some even stare at me in disbelief. What kind of skeletons do you have in your closet?”

  She cleared her throat and tried to appear normal. She was clearly afraid of giving too much away.

  They sat in silence for a long moment. Then Seeley leaned forward, set his beer on the table before him, and spoke. “My turn.”

  She looked up at him, puzzled.

  “You got to ask me a question. Fair trade.”

  She looked slightly panicked but tried to mask it.

  “Does Lucy know you weren’t born with the name Zoe Johnson?”

  Her face paled, and her lips fell ajar.

  “From that expression I’m going to say no.”

  “How—”

  “I work in government. It’s my job to know things most people don’t,” Seeley said. “Zoe, I don’t care about who you were. We all have darkness we’re trying to outrun. All I care about is whether you have Lucy’s best at heart. You’re lying about who you are, which makes me suspicious of your intentions, and I don’t want to be. Because believe it or not—trust me or not—all I want is to see that Lucy lives through this. I owe her at least that. She trusts you wholeheartedly. You’re connected. We saw that today.” He made sure he was looking her in the eye. “Can I trust you? Can she trust you?”

  Zoe didn’t back down from his stare. Her eyes were glossy, emotions threatening to give her away, but she held his look steadily. “Yes.”

  Seeley nodded. “Okay.”

  “Okay.”

  “Now you’ve seen my darkness and I’ve seen yours,” Seeley said. “We never have to speak of it again.”

  She nodded, acknowledging what had just passed between them. She stood. “We should get some sleep.”

  She started toward the stairs past him, and he reached out and grabbed her hand gently as she reached his chair. She paused and looked down at the place where his fingers touched the back of her hand.

  “Friends?” he asked, looking up at her earnestly.

  She smiled and shrugged. “Acquaintances.” She gently lifted her hand free of his touch, gave him a final smile, and left.

  He sat there for a while after her steps had left the stairs and her bedroom door had squeaked closed. The feel of her hand lingered on his fingers, and the excitement of her buzzed inside his chest.

  He had lied to get her to trust him. And he was afraid it was working. He downed the rest of his beer and tried to chase off the guilt he wasn’t used to feeling. What was it about these two girls that made his heart ache?

  For the first time since Steph had set his life on fire, the light he barely recognized, the light of love, was returning. And with it he was second-guessing his darkness, which he couldn’t afford to do. His love for a woman had nearly killed him once.

  He couldn’t let it take him down twice.

  TWENTY-TWO

  I WAS BACK in the glass box. The scene was growing, changing, as if someone were slowly making the room brighter and my vision was being stretched. More details of the room were coming into focus. And with each new tidbit of information, I recalled a different memory.

  Small ones, but mine. And each time I discovered something I had forgotten, I felt closer to who I was. It gave me the sense that at any moment the right memory would unlock them all
. Like I was slowly digging through the dense terrain, and eventually I’d find a hidden cavern and fall right through the earth.

  Stay focused, Luce. Remember you are in control.

  Zoe had given me the pet name. I liked it. Made me feel more connected to her, which I needed to withstand the panic. To get to the next scene I needed to survive this one. Get to the brink of drowning without losing control. This was my fourth attempt today. I was getting closer.

  We pieced together that I had lost control when it mattered most, and I’d paid for it with time in the pit. But here in my memories it was all about leveling up so I could access more. According to the bratty unicorn girl, that was key.

  Dr. Loveless had suggested that maybe the unicorn girl was my younger self trying to help guide me through my subconscious. If that was true, I hated my younger self.

  The water was rising, the cold still a shock even though I’d experienced it a hundred times. It was up to my knees. I’d controlled my reaction as far as my forehead. But fighting off the body’s natural instincts to survive was difficult.

  Doing good, Luce. Keep your focus on reality. The water isn’t real.

  Her encouragement along the way seemed to help me endure longer. The water was at my waist as my eyes carefully surveyed the room. Anything new could be the linchpin.

  What’s happening? Zoe’s voice sounded panicked.

  “The water is rising, nothing new—”

  Lucy, you have to come back.

  “What?” The water was rising up over my chest. “Zoe, what’s going on?”

  There was only silence in response as the water continued to pour in. A long moment passed, and then Zoe’s voice cut back in.

  Lucy, come back! Come back now!

  I’d never heard her so panicked. I didn’t know how to come back. The room started to dim as my terror sucked back the light.

  “Zoe!” I cried. “Zoe, are you there?”

  There was no answer. She always answered. Something was happening. The water now lapped at my chin. I had to get out of here but didn’t know how. I turned in a circle, treading the water as it continued up toward my face.

  Lucy, Lucy, please come back! We’re under attack!

  Attack. I couldn’t respond because I was fully submerged now. I crouched in the water and opened my eyes to peer through the glass. Just darkness remained. All that had been there each time before was gone.