Insomnia (The Night Walkers)

by Johansson, J. R.

  “I don’t know. It might have been a good idea to start with, but I’ve ruined any chance of it working. She doesn’t want to be anywhere near me, and for good reason.”

  “Well, we can’t have you croaking from lack of sleep. We’ll figure something out.”

  And that was it, right there.

  Warmth spread from my chest and down my arms. I never understood how badly I needed that. Someone else who knew I was dying and wanted to try and stop it from happening. That was what I’d longed for but couldn’t find. I wanted someone else to know … and care.

  I wanted someone I could say goodbye to.

  Clearing my throat, I shrugged and stood up. “If you say so.”

  It was the worst kind of lame but I wasn’t sure what else to say. Some sappy speech would only make both of us uncomfortable. Still, I wanted to say something to show my gratitude.

  Finn got up and threw his cup in the garbage. He pulled my keys out of his pocket and walked out the door. I caught up with him as we got to the car.

  “Hey, umm, thanks for believing me.”

  He grinned and punched my shoulder. “Hey, umm, thanks for not really being psycho.”

  thirteen

  This was a terrible idea. I paced in Finn’s kitchen, wiping my damp hands on the front of my jeans for what felt like the millionth time. I’d only resisted my darker urges for what, twenty-four hours now? Total fail. Even knowing this was Finn’s plan didn’t make me feel any better. I needed to stop making decisions based on what I needed and start making them based on what Mia needed—and right now, that was for me to stay as far away from her as possible. I never should’ve let him talk me into this, no matter how good his intentions.

  Finn slouched at the kitchen table. It looked like he was sleeping. He hadn’t moved a muscle in ages, but his baseball cap was pulled so low on his head it was hard to tell. I jumped when he sat forward.

  “Parker, you need to chill. You’re making me sweat and that’s really saying something since you left the door open and it’s practically snowing in here.”

  “Oh, sorry.” I walked over and kicked the bottom of the back door the rest of the way closed with my left foot. “When will she be here?”

  “I don’t know. Her truck has been breaking down lately, so Jeff is dropping her off.” Finn leaned back in his chair. “You freaking out isn’t going to make her get here any faster.”

  With a shrug, I plunked down in the chair beside him, rolling my head back and forth in a vain attempt to relax my tense muscles. I grabbed an orange from the bowl on the table and flexed my fingers around it. “I don’t know if I want her to get here at all.”

  “I’m telling you. This is going to work.” But he chewed on the end of a pencil as he glanced toward the front door.

  “You don’t know that.”

  “No, but were any of your ideas this good?”

  I swallowed hard and tapped the orange against the top of the table. My ideas sucked. My ideas had made everything infinitely worse—possibly unrecoverable.

  Finn tried to play it off, but he seemed almost as nervous as I felt. His hands were a dead giveaway. We were opposites: when he was happy, he couldn’t stay still. At the moment, his arms were crossed over his chest with each hand pinned under the opposite biceps. Keeping them motionless was the only thing he could control.

  Finn watched me, his expression frozen halfway between laughter and fear. His eyes were glued to my hand. Only when I looked down did I notice that I was still hitting the orange against the table—hard. Juice oozed out of cracks in the peel, dripping over my fingers and onto the table. I stood, threw the smashed orange into the garbage, and grabbed a napkin to clean up the mess. I had no idea what was going on with my hands these days. They almost had a mind of their own. I sat back down across from Finn.

  “Sorry. I wasn’t paying attention.”

  “No, really? If you wanted juice, you could’ve just asked.” Finn glanced over at the blob of orange peel in the garbage can and grimaced. “You all right, man?”

  “Yeah, fine.”

  That wasn’t the truth and we both knew it. This was it. If we couldn’t make this work, there wasn’t much point in trying anymore. I would leave Mia alone. She deserved that much after everything I’d put her through. It was the only option I would allow myself to consider. But I hoped I could find someone else like her before it was too late.

  I shook my head. That thought was so absurd it made me want to laugh. There was no one like her, no one who could do what she did.

  I’d managed to alienate and terrify the only girl who could help me. Classic.

  A car pulled into the driveway and I jumped up from my chair. The doorbell rang. I heard Addie bound down the stairs in the front room to answer the door. She hadn’t said a word to me since I’d come to apologize to Finn the night before. But somehow, after I dropped him off, he’d convinced her to invite Mia over today while I was here. I had no idea what kind of dirt he had on Addie to make her do it, but it must’ve been really good. On top of that, Finn must’ve begged me half a dozen times today, “Don’t be a freak.”

  Yeah, because that’s an option.

  If Addie would give me a chance, I’d show her I was still the same guy I used to be. I would not let myself hurt Mia again. I couldn’t.

  My heart pounded in my ears and I nearly bolted out the back door. It was so strange; my feet were rooted to the spot but my flight instinct pushed me like a freight train.

  “Casual, remember?” Finn whispered, pushing me back down into the chair and grabbing a pack of Uno cards from the kitchen counter. I took them from his hand, needing something, anything, else to focus on.

  I heard Addie open the door as I slid the cards out of the box and onto the kitchen table, hanging on every word, every breath, every creak of the floor.

  “Hey!” Addie said, but then her voice hushed and she spoke with quiet concern. “What happened now?”

  I froze, my hands hovering in the air, the Uno cards quick-

  ly forgotten. I’d carefully avoided Mia all day. It couldn’t be about me this time.

  “I—I don’t know what to do.” Mia’s voice sounded so small and scared. Even though I couldn’t have caused it, I was still crushed by a wave of guilt. It might not be me this time, but I was certain I’d made her feel this way before.

  The sound of the door closing echoed in the still house, and I feared Addie had taken Mia outside until I heard her speak again.

  “After school today—I got an e-mail.” Her voice shook with every word.

  I glanced at Finn and saw a look of confusion on his face that must’ve mirrored my own. He tilted his head to one side and pointed at me with his eyebrows raised. I shook my head. I didn’t even have her e-mail address.

  “From who?” Addie’s voice sounded tight. I knew she was probably thinking of me. After my behavior, who else would she assume sent Mia something that upset her so much? I held my breath, silently praying Mia would clear my name.

  “It’s pretty obvious, but I can’t be sure. He didn’t exactly sign it.” Mia’s voice sounded muffled, like she had her hands over her face. Bitterness and fear dripped from her words. Guilt felt like a weight balanced on the dull side of a blade and each time she spoke it plunged deeper into my chest. “He said things—terrible things. He w-wants to hurt me.”

  My breath came out in a gush, refusing to let me hold it any longer. I heard a gasp in the other room, and Finn stared at me like I was an idiot. I felt like an idiot.

  Mia was off the couch and in the kitchen in a heartbeat. When her searching eyes met mine, I couldn’t suppress a shudder. Her skin paled but she didn’t look away. Dark smudges made paths down her cheeks where her tears had fallen. Addie came to stand behind her, shaking her head and glaring back and forth between Finn and me.

  My mind whirled
through what had happened and I could think of only one thing I could focus on. I had to help her, to prove to her it wasn’t me this time. “Mia, let me see the e-mail.”

  Her eyes widened and her face contorted with anger before she spoke. “You’re really messed up, you know that? What’s wrong with you?” She raised her hand and rubbed the back of her head, and my mind pulsed with the vision of the blossoming blood last night. The twisted satisfaction that filled a dark place within me made my stomach turn. I’d seen her eyes, and the darkness within me was satisfied.

  What had I become?

  “How is your head?” I kept my voice as calm as I could.

  Mia’s face contorted with anger and fear. “I d-didn’t need stitches. Sorry to disappoint.”

  Addie placed a hand on Mia’s shoulder but the moment she touched her, Mia whirled.

  “You knew he was here?” The expression of betrayal on Mia’s face was heart-wrenching, and Addie flinched.

  “No—I mean, yes. It was a mistake. I’m sorry.” Addie glared at me, and I couldn’t meet her eyes.

  “Mia.” Finn stood, trying to somehow fix this mess.

  “Don’t talk to me. You’re sick by association if nothing else.”

  Finn’s face fell, and he slouched back down at the table with a sigh. His plan had failed spectacularly.

  “It wasn’t me,” I said softly. For the first time, Mia app-eared to actually be listening. I wanted everyone to stop staring at me like I was a monster. And even more, I wanted to believe that they weren’t right. That I wasn’t slowly becoming everything they thought I was. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  Mia looked like a statue as she watched me. Only her hands moved, and they shook so much I was surprised it didn’t jolt her whole frame. I had the sudden impression that I was watching a time bomb about to go off.

  I wanted to grab her hands, to stop them from shaking, but I knew that would be a huge mistake. Her gaze was too guarded to tell if she believed what I said or not. And if she didn’t, grabbing her wouldn’t exactly go over well.

  A bit of anger and resentment filled me. I was trying so hard not to be the bad guy. If someone wanted to hurt or scare Mia, I wanted to help. I needed to help—it was the only way I could prove everyone wrong.

  I knew it would be stupid to touch her, but I walked into the living room and retrieved her backpack. Using slow, deliberate movements, I walked back into the kitchen and placed it on the table. The others looked more like portraits than real people. Only their eyes seemed alive, following my every move.

  “Please, let me help you.” I reached for the zipper, hoping she might’ve printed a copy of the e-mail to show Addie.

  Before I could get it even halfway open, Mia snatched it from my hands.

  Her whole body shook with rage and fear, but she stood her ground and glared up at me. Her eyes locked with mine and the fury in them looked ready to boil over. When she finally spoke, her gritted teeth twisted her voice into a low growl. “Stay. Away. From. Me.”

  Then she ran out the front door.

  In the stillness that followed, every muscle in my body retreated in on itself. I surrendered, crumpling into the chair and laying my head on the table. I didn’t even move when Addie thwacked me on the back of the head.

  “What is wrong with you? Don’t you see what you’re doing to her?”

  “He isn’t doing it, Addie.” The sadness in Finn’s voice mimicked mine.

  Addie sighed. “I don’t want to believe he sent the e-mail either, but he certainly isn’t innocent here.”

  I didn’t lift my head, but when I heard her turn to leave I spoke. “I need to see the e-mail. I want to help.”

  Addie froze in the doorway, or at least it sounded like it, and when I heard her speak again she sounded on the verge of tears. “Parker, I never imagined saying this to you, but please do us all a favor. Stay away from Mia—and our family—until you get some help.”

  For a few minutes after she left I couldn’t bring myself to move. Every hope, every dream that life could be better had been sucked out of my body. It was over. Why try so hard for a life that couldn’t last much longer and would only be filled with exhaustion and pain for everyone I ever cared about?

  I didn’t know which hurt worse—Addie’s lost faith in me or Finn’s continued hope. They were two of my favorite people in the world and one of them had to be wrong. If Addie was wrong, did it matter? My life was done anyway. If Finn was wrong, then the best I could hope for was a quick death, the only way I could stop myself from hurting anyone else on my way out.

  It was so quiet I would’ve thought I was completely alone if Finn hadn’t shifted his weight in his chair every once in a while. I groaned. How was it possible that even when we were trying to make this better, it still got worse?

  When I sat up, I was surprised to see that Finn had his sunglasses on. I didn’t have the energy to ask why so I just raised my eyebrows.

  “Yeah. I wear my sunglasses at night. I’m that cool.”

  “What are you doing?”

  Finn shrugged. “You need to see her dreams tonight.”

  I shook my head and reached for his glasses, but he dodged aside.

  “I won’t let you give up—especially not now.”

  Frustration seeped through my veins, and I couldn’t keep my voice level anymore. “Why not? We tried, and look where it got us. Giving up seems infinitely better right about now.”

  “Because you can’t give up.” Finn shrugged and stood up. “At least watch them tonight. Maybe her dreams will give you a clue about who really sent that e-mail.”

  “You heard her. She wants me to leave her alone. It’s none of my business.” My voice sounded cold, even to me. As much as I didn’t want to let my bad instincts win, it was hard to argue with the only person who believed me.

  “After everything else you put her through, don’t you at least owe it to her to make sure this guy isn’t a real threat?” Finn opened the back door and pushed me out of it. I knew he was manipulating me, but he had a point. I did owe Mia at least that much.

  Before I could say anything else, he spoke again. “Tell me what you find out tomorrow. Addie won’t forgive me if we let anything happen to Mia after this. And since you’re the prime suspect at this point, you’d probably end up in jail. Which I hear sucks.” He closed the door and I barely heard his muffled “Good night” as it locked.

  fourteen

  Mia’s dream jolted me to the core the instant it began. Gone were the peaceful scenes and ease of entry. Her dream layers vibrated around me so hard it felt like she’d hit me with them. The impact jarred me until my teeth ached.

  I tried to orient myself in the madness. The nightmare swirled around me in chaos. Mia and I were wearing all black, dressed in shadow. She hugged her knees on the ground beside me, sobbing and rocking back and forth. All around us swirled other levels of the dream—bits of visions, nightmares, and memories in a twisted soup of confusion. Every noise reverberated a thousand times over.

  My mind recoiled from the barrage on my senses, unwilling to accept the nightmare that had overtaken my sanctuary. Mia’s dreams weren’t like this. There was nothing peaceful or beautiful here. I knelt to the ground beside her, shoving my fists against my ears in an effort to regain some sanity. I wasn’t causing this … was I?

  The noises quieted until I could hear only a faint crackling. The smell of something burning filled my nostrils. I was relieved until Mia’s sobs intensified and I was hit with her emotions. They were twin trains of misery and fear, leaving me wide-eyed and panting. My brain couldn’t think under the mad pain of it. What was going on?

  The swirling halted, leaving us in a grassy front yard. The other levels must have separated for the moment. The house before us was dark, but I watched as fire quickly spread to each window. In what felt like seconds, it was
engulfed in flames.

  That’s when I heard the screaming.

  I thought it was Mia, but then realized it came from the top floor of the house. Mia rolled to her side, wrapping both arms around her head. Her misery flowed into me as it escalated. Ending it was all that mattered. Unable to close her eyes or truly block out the sound, she thrashed about, trying to turn away.

  The screaming in the house got louder, and I forced myself to face the blaze. If Mia had to witness it, so would I.

  There were figures moving inside. I saw faces in the upstairs window—a man and a woman, both older. The woman had long brown hair, and the man haunting dark blue eyes. They had to be her parents. I watched them pound on the window. The man fumbled with the latch, trying to open it.

  Smoke clouded the view and I couldn’t see. Then both figures were highlighted as the flames surrounded them. With their arms wrapped around each other, they melted into the fire, and within seconds, all was quiet.

  Mia’s gasping breaths filled the stillness, and I crouched down beside her. My gut twisted. I knew my tears matched the ones that drenched her face. So much agony. I hoped to God this wasn’t a memory, but deep down I knew it was. The clarity of the sky, the stars, the vividness of the heat, the smell—it was too well defined to be just a dream. This was real. No simple nightmare was this solid—this terrible.

  Mia had watched her parents burn.

  Sitting beside her, I buried my head in my hands, knowing how much I’d added to her problems. No wonder she never answered any of my questions about her past. I’d never in a million years imagined she could’ve witnessed something so horrifying.

  I knew I couldn’t touch Mia in a dream, but this was too much. I couldn’t just watch her, not alone in so much pain. I reached out and wrapped both arms around her shaking shoulders. I gasped when I felt the soft fabric of her shirt with my hands and she relaxed against me, sobbing into my chest. Then she wrapped her arms around me and clutched me so tight I had to work to breathe. I could feel her pain as it eased. It was so strange and it made no sense at all, but somehow, I was helping her through the nightmare. Somehow my touch didn’t pass right through her.