Bleed Through

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Bleed Through Page 5

by Arrington, Adriana


  Toes curled and leg muscles tensed, he fought the urge to laugh at the absurdity of her statement. His compass pointed as far from average as Mai’s, albeit in the opposite direction. Still, he wracked his brains for something “normal” to say.

  The computer monitor next to his workstation crashed to the ground, scattering both his thoughts and pieces of electronic equipment across the floor. A dishwater-blonde woman sat on the now-cleared desk with her hands clamped onto the back of a man who stripped off her clothes. She moaned with pleasure as she pulled at his jeans and wiggled them down.

  Liam jumped out of his seat and backed away. “Mind getting a room?” he yelled.

  And people thought he lacked self-control.

  “What’s wrong?” Mai asked. She scoured the space behind Liam, searching for the target of his scolding. “Who needs to get a room?”

  As abruptly as they’d materialized, the couple disappeared. Rooted to the floor, Liam searched the air for any trace of what he’d witnessed. Nothing remained but an awkward silence. Again.

  He dry washed his hands. “Nobody. I was messing around.”

  “No, you saw somebody. Like the other day.” She swung her leg over the chair and stepped close to him. “And by the sounds of it, that somebody engaged in some rather naughty behavior.” She flashed a wicked grin.

  “You’re gonna think I’m lying.” He meant it to sound lighthearted, but it came out raw and blistered.

  “No, I’m not. Try me.”

  No use in putting off the inevitable. Mai would judge him sooner or later.

  “A man and a woman were right next to us, having… relations.”

  “Right there?” Mai pointed to the empty desk.

  “Yep. In their ecstasy, they shoved the monitor crashing to the floor.”

  She sidestepped Liam and inspected the desk. Unlike all of the other workstations, no monitor lay on it. She knelt down and raked the floor with her hands.

  “Aha! Look what I found.” She held up a small metal shard. “Nifty little gift you’ve got there. It’s like free porno,” she muttered.

  His jaw dropped. Mai hadn’t even flinched at his revelation. She took what he said at face value. It’d been a while, a long while, since anybody had. And to top it off, she admired his “gift.”

  He ran his hand through his hair. He didn’t want to draw out Mai’s condemnation any longer. Rejection hurt more after any type of friendship emerged. “This is the first time I’ve seen that particular type of image. Usually they’re not as fun.”

  She grimaced. “Like the drowning at the beach?”

  “Along those lines.”

  “I’d prefer watching the make-out session as well. Much more enjoyable than death.” She peered around the library. “So―who’d you see in the image?”

  “I don’t know,” he said.

  But he did. Because the librarian walked by, her hands full of books ready to be returned to shelves. A few seconds earlier, they’d been full of something else entirely. He jerked his head toward her and fake coughed.

  “There she is,” he whispered.

  “What?!?” Mai giggled. “Way to go, Miss Librarian. I’m guessing after-hours in this place are a little more exciting than most people know.”

  He wagged his eyebrows. “Apparently.”

  “Well, you’re chock full of surprises, Mr. Murphy. I’m glad we’re in class together.” Mai slid her hand down the back pocket of her shorts and smiled.

  “Me, too.”

  he Hyundai hummed along as Liam drove to an all-day breakfast restaurant. Out of the corner of his eye, he shot a glance at Mai, still not believing she thought him trustworthy enough to get in his car. She’d insisted he owed her lunch “somewhere average” after all the excitement in the library caused her to skip class.

  She tapped on the cheap plastic console. “So, when did these visions of yours start?”

  “A couple of days ago.” These particular hallucinations were quite new.

  Popping open the glove compartment, she snooped through its contents and sighed when she found only paperwork. “What could be bringing them on? Stress in your life? New medication?”

  “I’m on some heavy-duty medication. But I’ve been on it for years.” Liam held his breath and waited for her to ask why he took it.

  She didn’t.

  “Sometimes our bodies acclimate to medication. Maybe this is how yours has adjusted to your prescription. It’s opened some avenue in your mind most people can’t reach.” She waved her hands in front of her like she consulted a crystal ball.

  His stomach clenched. The idea had crossed his mind. He hated his medicine. Besides the weight he’d gained because of it, his pills also lowered his already pitiful internal motivation. To top it off, the medicine had damaged his eyesight. He also ran the risk of developing dyskinesia, which meant his mouth would contort involuntarily for the rest of his life. All in all, fun stuff.

  But his pills kept him sane. Or so he thought. Were his schizophrenia symptoms truly worse than seeing people murdered or dying? The make-out session made him uncomfortable but wasn’t so horrid. The ones where people died? Gut-wrenching. And what about all the ghostly projections he’d seen?

  “Could be,” he said.

  Mai lifted her left foot onto the seat and rested her elbow on her knee. “So what do all of your visions have in common?”

  “They were all intense. Like events you remember for the rest of your life.”

  “So they’re all forms of memories. Memories with incredibly high emotional values associated with them.” She stared ahead in deep concentration. “Can you think of any connection between you and these visions?”

  Other than my delusional mind?

  “No.”

  “I’ve got a theory, but it’s kind of wacky.” She snapped her fingers. “Wanna hear it?”

  “Of course.” He tamped down the butterflies in his stomach.

  She shifted in her seat to face him and held up both her hands in a stop-the-press motion. “What if you’re seeing ghosts?”

  He exhaled. “Not a bad idea. Except the librarian is still alive and kicking, and, as far as I can tell, the woman from the beach is, too.”

  “True.” She pursed her lips. “What else could it be?”

  “Got me. Wish I could figure it out―it’s not cool wondering whether I’ll see some new awful vision every time I go somewhere.”

  After quiet contemplation, she pulled on his arm. “I’ve got a plan.” Her touch lit his nerves on fire. “Turn right at the next light. We’re going to run a little test.”

  He obliged and turned onto a small road that led past dumpy homes with broken windows and sagging roofs. At the end of the street, a wrought iron gate swung out from red brick pillars. A painted wooden sign attached to each pillar announced they entered “Peaceful Meadows Cemetery.” As they rolled through the gates, a grassy field replaced the pavement. Car tracks led to a parking area.

  “We decided I don’t see ghosts.” Half doubting his earlier resolve, he wiped clammy hands on the steering wheel.

  “I know. But what if we’re looking at it all wrong? I think you see memories all right, but not memories from people. It’s the land’s memory.”

  “Say what?”

  “You heard me. What if they’re imprints of memories? Like if a location could remember events?”

  It sounded impossible to him, but then…

  “Wouldn’t the memories replay all day in that scenario?” He’d visited the yacht club multiple times, but he’d witnessed Cull beat a man to death only once.

  Mai scrunched her forehead. “Maybe the episodes are attached to time.”

  She had a point. It’d been around 4:30 when he’d seen the murder. His trip to the marina the following day had taken place earlier in the afternoon.

  “It’s possible.”

  “I knew it!” She punched the air with her fist. “Call me Sherlock Nguyen.”

  She patted herself
on the shoulder, prouder than even a peacock could manage. Somehow she pulled it off without being obnoxious. “This place has got to be full of traumatic memories. Don’t you think you’d remember the day you buried somebody you love?”

  Liam imagined he would. He hadn’t attended his father’s funeral because he’d been in the throes of a psychotic breakdown.

  “So what’s your plan? Walk through the cemetery until I see some grief-stricken images? You’re a bottle of fun, Mai.”

  “Okay, so it does sound kinda terrible. Still, it’ll help us figure out what’s going on in that ginger head of yours.” She pointed to a massive live oak tree draped with Spanish moss. “Park under there.”

  He shook his head in resignation and followed her orders. She waited for him to open her door and grasped his still clammy hand as she stepped out. Her warm palm steadied and inflamed his nerves all at once.

  Seemingly ancient trees stood guard throughout the cemetery. Spanish moss, which drooped from their thick branches, protected row after row of modest gray headstones from the pitiless Florida sun.

  “Shall we?” She gestured at the footpath beaten into the grass ahead of them.

  A large crow swooped by his head and landed on the Hyundai’s red roof. It cocked its head to the side and stared straight at Liam. When the bird opened its mouth and cawed, a blast of frigid air hurtled toward his face. An unnatural chill smacked his cheeks, snaked down his neck, and wrapped around his heart.

  He sneaked a glance at Mai. Either she didn’t see the bird, or it didn’t exist. Smart money bet on the latter option.

  Nice try, asshole. But I’m keeping my crazy bottled up today.

  “After you,” he said.

  Mai led him to a small mausoleum long-ago overtaken by mildew. An angel sat atop the structure, one hand uplifted to the heavens while the other wiped away a frozen tear. A hot breeze clanged the mausoleum’s rusted iron gate against the stained marble. “Hazel Johnson” was engraved above its entrance.

  Mai bit her lip. “This one bothers me. At some point, this mausoleum stood grand and dignified. Now it’s as sad and lonely as the meanest gravestone. Maybe even more so. Time doesn’t take pity on any of us. Even those loved greatly during life.”

  “Who says anybody loved Hazel Johnson?”

  Mai considered his question. “Nobody. I assumed so because of her impressive resting place. The mausoleum must’ve cost a pretty penny back in its day.”

  “So whoever buried her had money. Doesn’t mean they loved her.” His cheeks tightened, and he wrinkled his nose.

  She stayed speechless, analyzing his face like she could read his frown lines the way a palm reader divines hands.

  “Sorry, I don’t mean to be argumentative.” He looked away and waited for her to release his hand.

  She didn’t.

  “No, you’re right. I made an assumption based on some wobbly preconceptions. Let’s keep moving,” she said.

  The pair walked on, their feet whispering through the grass. The sun blazed a brilliant orange, slicing through the shade and no doubt scorching Liam’s fair skin, particularly prone to burning because of his medicine.

  Then, like Mai predicted, it happened.

  shrill keening pierced through the early afternoon breeze, so loud Liam dropped Mai’s hand and covered his ears.

  “Are you hearing an imprint?” She winced at the expression on his face.

  He nodded. To his right, a small child rocked next to a headstone. She clutched the hem of her pink dress, stained brown by newly tossed soil.

  “Daddy!” she screamed. She pawed at the headstone as if she could raise her father back to life if she tried hard enough.

  A middle-aged woman grasped the girl in her arms and held her tight. She said, “Let it all out, baby. It’s okay to cry. I miss him, too.” Large tears welled in the woman’s hazel eyes and glittered down her face.

  “Do you see them?” Liam wrung his hands together before pointing to the bereaved child and parent.

  “No.” Mai’s tone had cooled, and all playfulness had disappeared from her voice. “You were right. This is a terrible idea. I can’t believe I asked you to do this.”

  Sick to his stomach, he dropped his arms to his side. “Let’s go.”

  She slipped her hand in his again, holding it just tight enough to keep him tethered to reality.

  He had the audacity to believe they’d make it back to his car in peace, and he’d witnessed the worst of it.

  As usual, he was wrong.

  A wail to his right joined the little girl’s sobbing, followed by screams from the graveyard’s entrance, like a delayed refrain from Hell’s choir. And then the quiet cries of hundreds of people poured into the afternoon air, merging together until their sobs of despair more closely resembled the thunder of a waterfall than human voices lifted in grief. Liam stumbled and fell to the ground, pressing his hands hard over his ears.

  “No!” he yelled.

  Distantly, he felt Mai pulling at his arms, trying to drag him to the car. He waved her off and rolled into a fetal position. The cries continued.

  Clawing at any chance to make the wailing stop, he hummed a tune. The effort made the grieving voices grow louder. Long spools of clear spittle dribbled down his face and seeped into the cemetery’s grounds.

  He reached deep inside his memories to a time when he’d been happy. To the time when he and his father threw footballs in their backyard. Maybe, just maybe, a happy memory would override these sorrowful ones.

  It didn’t.

  He steeled himself and opened his eyes. If the images demanded to be seen, he’d see them.

  People packed the graveyard. All intent in their own misery and grief, none of them looked at him.

  Nearby, an elderly lady patted the crest of a tombstone, stoic in her grief. If only the rest of the mourners acted more like her, and less like the twenty-something man who screamed while beating his black-suited chest. A young woman next to him sobbed quietly, burying her face in petite, trembling hands.

  Liam blinked ten times.

  The physical manifestations of broken hearts disappeared, and silence kissed his ears. Empty now save for its slowly rotting occupants, the graveyard seemed to breathe a sigh of relief along with him.

  He rose to his feet and staggered to the car. His hand fumbled with the driver’s side door before opening it, and he collapsed into the seat.

  Mai hovered over him. “How may I help you?” she asked.

  “Give me a sec.” He closed his eyes and held up a limp hand.

  His mind couldn’t handle the graveyard’s memories. Mai’s simple act of treating him like a normal person, an average person, had ballooned his ego to such an extent he thought he could handle testing his psyche. He should’ve known better.

  Humiliated she’d seen him drooling, he wiped his chin on his shirt and practiced the meditation breathing he’d learned in counseling.

  When his heart rate returned to normal, he opened his eyes. She sat in the passenger seat, gloriously beautiful. Her eyelashes fluttered the bottom of her bangs as she looked back at him.

  “I’m a jerk,” she said.

  “Not even remotely. We should’ve thought our plan through a bit more, is all.”

  She fiddled with the seatbelt buckle. “It’s not a game for you, is it? I hadn’t realized how hard it would be to see the visions you do.”

  Relief coursed through his body as he lowered his head to the steering wheel. Mai sympathized with him. For the last ten years, nobody but his father had attempted to understand him or his world. And since his father had died, his world had become a very, very lonely place.

  After allowing him several minutes of recovery, she placed a feather light hand on his shoulder. His heart stuttered.

  “I could go for a little coffee,” he said.

  “I could go for a lot,” she said.

  He laughed. “Then let’s get out of here.”

  he restaurant was dead except
for a retiree who sat a few tables away. He wore a baseball cap embossed with “Vietnam Vet” in gold letters and a button-down, short-sleeved white shirt. He held up a newspaper and scanned the day’s events from bespectacled eyes set deep on a wrinkled face.

  Mai dropped the sticky plastic menu and waved her hands at him. “You’ve stared at that old man since we sat down. You got a thing for geezers?”

  He shook his head. “I feel bad for him. He’s lonely.”

  “Now I’m going to be the argumentative one. How do you know he’s lonely? Just because he’s by himself doesn’t make him so.”

  No, but the vision attached to him did. Wrapped in a white halo, a woman in her early twenties sat next to the veteran. She chatted soundlessly with berry-red lips, and her dark-brown eyes sparkled. Her platinum-blonde hair, parted in the middle, swung over a psychedelic floral print shirt.

  While Liam didn’t blame the man for living in the past-he’d done more than his fair share of the same-his recent friendship with Mai proved the present could be wonderful, too. “Excuse me,” he said.

  Mai’s eyes widened as he stood and made his way over to the old man.

  “I’m sorry to bother you, sir,” he began, fighting the urge to run back to his table and avoid speaking with a stranger, “but I wanted to thank you for your service. My dad was a vet also, so I know the sacrifices you made.”

  The old man lowered his paper and smiled at Liam, eyes crinkling with delight. He said, “Thank you, son. You can’t know how much your gratitude means.” The apparition next to him faded.

  “It’s the least I can do. Have a nice afternoon,” said Liam. He dipped his head before returning to his table.

  Mai’s lips parted slightly. “Wow. I’ve never seen someone do that before. Is that a common occurrence for you?”

  “Not really.” Out of the corner of his eye he saw the older man still smiling. “I think it’s a habit I’m going to pick up, though.”

 

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