Cole hesitated. “If he is trying to communicate with me, maybe it is best to listen.”
“If that's what you want. Come.” She started to her bedroom but Cole did not budge.
“The thing is, I've tried,” he said. “I can never get close to it. It feels like it's buried beneath a pile of voices.”
Meredith paused at the doorway. “I don't know what to say. This isn't something I have any experience with. ”
“I guess I'll just try again. One of these days, maybe I'll figure it out.”
They congregated in the bedroom and Cole turned inward, listening to the voices and losing himself within them. The sense of the presence, which Cole now knew was Travis, was always there, but the difficulty was finding it. It made no noise and in the sea of voices it was hard to focus. He swam through the sea of voices, all of his energy focused on the presence, trying to figure out a way to find it. He started moving aimlessly in many directions to see if anything would change, and after wandering for a bit, something happened. It was nearly impossible to describe, but the presence was definitely closer, as if some energy that it was emitting grew stronger, like the sun beating on his bare skin.
Cole continued in that direction, while the energy continued to grow in intensity. As he got closer than he had ever gotten before, excitement filled him and the distraction caused his mental image of Amy to slip. All of a sudden he had no idea where he was. He was lost in the sea of voices, with no idea where was up, back to the surface. He began to panic, and focused all his energy on refreshing his mental image. He moved furiously through the voices, breaking back through into consciousness.
He opened his eyes, his heart beating rapidly, and saw his mom and Amy looking worried. “That was close,” he said.
“I thought we were losing you,” Meredith said. “You started mumbling and you didn't respond when I called your name and shook you.”
“I got close to him but that distracted me and I almost got lost.”
“You must hold on to your mental image,” Meredith said. “ You must never lose that.”
“I know. It won't happen again.”
“So you didn't make contact?” Amy said.
“Unfortunately, no. But I'll keep trying,” and in response to his mother's expression added, “but I'll be very careful. For now, can we just hear the rest of your story?”
“I did promise that, didn't I?” Meredith gave a nervous laugh. “I'm not sure there's enough time before the Williams arrive.”
“Just go,” Cole said.
“All right, all right.”
Cole and Amy shifted closer.
* * *
“Seriously? Oh, no way,” Meredith said into the phone, laughing so hard she was having trouble breathing. “How did that happen?”
“Beats me,” Peter said. “But I'm glad it did. I never laughed so much in my entire life.”
“Thanks for that one. I'll have to tell Frank. He'll get a kick out of it.”
“Get a kick out of what?” Meredith's husband said, coming into the kitchen. “Is that Peter again?”
“Yeah, one sec,” Meredith said and then into the receiver, “I've gotta get going. Talk to you later?”
“Sounds good,” Peter said. “We're still on for tomorrow, right?”
“Wouldn't miss it for the world. Bye.”
“Bye.”
Meredith hung up. “You'll never believe what Peter just saw.”
“I don't like that guy,” Frank said, an angry tremor in his voice.
“What's wrong with you? He's a great guy.”
“He calls you all the time and the two of you see each other more than we do. I don't trust him.”
“You can't be serious,” Meredith said. “He has a wife and kid. He's loyal to them, I can assure you. I told you about our connection. That's why we're such good friends.”
“Friends. That's a loaded word, and a thin line too. How am I to believe that? I don't like you talking to him.”
“What are you, my mother? You're going to have to deal with it. Sorry, but this is your problem, not mine.” She stormed out of the kitchen, hands clenched at her side, her breath coming in short rasps.
“I don't want you to mention your ridiculous instructions either,” he called after her. “It just makes you sound crazy.”
Who does he think he is? After all that proof he still won't accept that the instructions are real?
Meredith pushed open the door to Cole's bedroom and tiptoed to his crib. He was fast asleep, his thumb stuck in his mouth. “At least he didn't wake you, my little honey buns,” she whispered, gently petting his thin hair. “What do I do? I love him but I can't deal with his stubbornness. How do I get him back on my side? I wish I were you right now. Not a trouble in the world.” She bent and kissed his forehead, then crept out of the room.
That night, Meredith slid under the covers of her bed next to her husband who was reading a book. She took a deep breath, summoning the courage to begin the conversation she dreaded. “Frank?”
He lifted his eyes from the page but did not look directly at her. “What is it?”
“You're my husband and I love you and I need you to understand my life. I've tried so many times to show you proof but you still don't believe me. What do I have to do to change your mind? What will make you believe?”
Frank placed the book on the nightstand and rubbed his eyes. “When will you accept that it's in your head and get help? Until you do that, there's nothing I can do for you.” He clicked off the bedside lamp and rolled onto his side away from her.
Meredith brushed away the tears that began to stream down her cheeks. She covered her mouth to stifle a whimper but a sniffle escaped. If Frank heard her, he did not respond. She lay awake for hours, staring at the ceiling, and finally cried herself to sleep.
She awoke the next morning to find Frank's side of the bed cold. It was common for him to awaken before her, especially since she had fallen asleep so late the night before. Yet, for some reason, a cold hand gripped her, and she could not shake a sinking feeling. She reached the empty kitchen to find a note on the kitchen table that said simply, “I had to go. I'm sorry. You're better off without me.”
Meredith collapsed into a chair and covered her face, her sobs turning into screams of despair.
12
Meredith had to bite her lip to keep the old feeling from resurfacing into new tears. Cole and Amy did not speak, both uncomfortable with her unusual vulnerability. Meredith gradually pulled herself away from the story, back to reality. As soon as she had somewhat recovered, she turned red from the looks Cole and Amy were giving her.
“This is so embarrassing,” she said, blinking her wet eyes and sniffling. “That was the first time I ever told that story. I shouldn't have told you that. It's not how...” Her voice choked up and she had to stop. “You'll have to excuse me.” She stood and walked into the bathroom, closing the door behind her.
Cole and Amy faced each other, in too much shock to speak. Amy finally broke the silence. “Maybe we shouldn't have asked her to tell us.”
Cole's chin dropped to his chest. “That was the first time she ever mentioned my dad. And now that's all I know about him.” He closed his eyes, and a moment later felt Amy's reassuring touch on his shoulder. He did not move as she embraced him, but he appreciated the gesture.
“What's going on in here?”
Cole lifted his head to see Beth in the doorway. Amy and he separated quickly.
“Aren't you two just adorable?” she said mockingly. “Where's your mother?”
“She's in the bathroom. Why?”
“Phone call. I'll tell them to call back.” She left to return to the kitchen.
Cole watched her go, and followed with Amy a moment later. He reached the kitchen as she hung up the phone. “Hey, Aunt Beth?”
“Yeah, what is it?” She turned on the faucet to resume washing dishes.
“Did you know my dad?”
“Of course. He
was a jerk,” she said as she washed.
“He couldn't have just been a jerk if my mom married him. Can you tell me about him?”
Beth turned off the faucet to look at him. “Why don't you ask your mother?”
“It upsets her too much. She's in the bathroom crying right now.”
Beth rubbed a wet hand over her face. “Why do you want to know?”
“I just do. Please.”
She sighed. “I guess I could.” The sound of the bathroom door reached them in the kitchen. “Another time.” She resumed washing as Meredith entered.
“I'm so sorry about that,” she said. “I don't know what happened.”
“Don't worry about it, Mom,” Cole said. “How about we stick to Peter? What happened with him? What did you find out from talking to him?”
“You're right, I didn't mention that. I got sidetracked with something completely unrelated.” She took a seat at the kitchen table, gesturing for Cole and Amy to do the same. “I'm afraid this part of the story is a bit disappointing. Simply enough, we both had instructions. We didn't learn all that much and I didn't know him long before there was an unfortunate accident and he passed away.”
“Whoa, hold on,” Cole said. “You never said what happened with your and his parents. Why did your mom not want you two talking? And what did his parents say when he talked to them?”
“I don't know what his mom said and I didn't speak to my mother much after that. Our relationship was strained.”
“You must've found out something.”
“I think they just... didn't get along and didn't want me to bring back the bad blood.”
“You weren't competing? And that never changed?”
“Nope,” she said too quickly.
Amy raised an eyebrow at Cole but he had enough respect for his mother not to push her. He would have to find out another time, and possibly from another person.
“What was the accident?” Cole said.
“He was at work and something heavy fell on him. Came as a big shock. I went to the funeral and that was the last time I saw Travis and his mom.”
Another dead end. Why is she being like this? She told me about her divorce but can't tell me about this?
He knew from the look on Amy's face that she felt the same way. There was an awkward silence, during which Beth finished washing the dishes and sat the table.
“Story time, huh?” Beth said. “Sounds fun. Say, Mere, I'm going to the store to get some things. Need anything?”
“No, thank you. Oh, maybe a box of spaghetti for tomorrow night. That would be great.”
“You got it. I'll be back in a bit. Hold the fort.” She left and as she opened the front door they heard her exclaim, “Whoa, you scared me.” There was a response too quiet for them to hear and then Beth said, “Be quicker with the bell next time. Yeah, she's here. Amy! Your foster mom!” There was the resounding sound of footsteps on the porch as she continued down the porch.
“Let's go say hi to Sarah,” Meredith said.
The three of them greeted her at the front door. Mrs. Williams, smiling as usual, wore a bright green blouse and white pants. “Did you have fun, Amy?” she said.
“Of course.”
“Great. I think you're going to just looove dinner tonight. I hope so. Thank you so much for your hospitality, Meredith.”
“Anytime,” Meredith said. “From personal experience, I can tell you, you're lucky to have her.”
“I can see that already. Ready to go?”
“See ya tomorrow then,” Amy said, catching Cole's eye and giving him a suggestive look.
“See ya, Amy,” Cole said, always sad to have Amy leave his side.
After they had gone, Meredith checked her watch. “Oh my. I'm going to be late. We need to eat right away. I wish Beth hadn't left. Guess we'll have to eat without her.”
“What do you mean late? For what?”
“I'm working the night shift tonight. That's why I was able to be here when you got home.”
“Ah, that sucks.”
“Not too bad. At least it's less crowded.”
“Well I mean it sucks that I'll be alone with Aunt Beth tonight.”
Meredith smiled. “I thought you two were getting along now.”
“We are, but I felt I had to say it. For old time's sake.”
After dinner, Cole spent the night reading in the library and was left undisturbed by Beth. He was asleep before his mother got home, and was awakened by the front door in the middle of the night. He was too tired to move, though, and flopped his head on his pillow, sure he would slip right back into unconsciousness.
Kill Darryl or your mom will die next Monday night.
Cole's eyes snapped open, his heart pounding so loud it hurt. No! He plunged into his mind, reaching towards the voice that had spoken. He grasped it, wrapped his consciousness around it, held it tight. In his mind, he had the sensation it was struggling to get away, but he would not allow it.
Why do you want me to kill Darryl? he asked the voice.
There was no reply and Cole felt growing despair, sure this was a pointless endeavor. Yet, he held on. He would not give in this easily.
It is important, the voice said.
It was not a helpful response, but the fact that he received any response at all was encouraging. Why would you kill my mom if I don't?
This time the response came more readily. An incentive.
What do you mean, an incentive? I'm already screwed up from Dr. Stern. I'm not killing anyone else. Don't you dare hurt my mom or I will find a way to hurt you, whatever you are.
At his anger, the voice renewed its struggling and broke free, hurtling off into the sea of voices within his subconscious.
No! Cole sprang after it. He would not lose it, not without better answers. He had to convince it to change the agreement. Maybe he could negotiate, could convince the voice to let him make Darryl stay away, or even move away. There had to be some alternative. He raced after it, with no regard for anything but catching it, and forcing it to obey him. Despite his best efforts, though, it was soon lost amongst the voices, and so was he.
Cole had never traveled this deep into his own mind, and he had not conjured a mental image to find his way out. A new panic set in, as he searched for an exit, feeling nothing but voices around him. In desperation, he latched onto the nearest voice, shook it, pressed it for help. It slipped away so he grabbed another one, but he was so terrified he couldn't think straight. He let go and moved in a random direction, praying it was out. When the voices didn't thin he latched onto another of them.
Up! he shouted. This voice was smaller and weaker than the others and he had it enveloped completely. It wiggled in his grasp, and when it didn't break free, he felt an emotion within it that bordered on fear. Where's out? Cole asked of it. Where's my consciousness?
There was a long pause of nothing and then Cole thought he felt a slight inclination to the right. He let go and bolted in that direction, traveling for what seemed an eternity. As he was giving up, convinced he had been deceived, he was himself again.
He was outside in an area he did not recognize, standing in front of a house equally unknown. He turned his head, trying to absorb his surroundings and figure out what happened. His heart was pounding, his muscles tense. He flexed his hands and realized he was wearing his winter gloves. There was a lump against his leg and when he reached his hand into his pocket he pulled out a switchblade. He exhaled sharply, the blade slipping from his hand and clattering to the ground.
Still in too much shock to think clearly, he sprinted away from the house in the opposite direction that he had been facing, glancing at street signs for a clue about where he was. Eventually he discovered a major street that he recognized, and followed it to his neighborhood. By the time he reached his house, his train of thought had figured out little more than he was now terrified of the voices in his head. He was sure that without a little bit of luck, he would have been trapped inside his
own mind forever.
What did they do while I was in there? They took over my body, had me put a switchblade in my pocket and walk to who knows where! What do they want with me? Where was I heading?
The front door was wide open as he snuck onto the porch. He closed the front door silently behind him, listening for any noises in the house. Thankfully, he heard nothing and crept into the library to go to sleep. Sleep, however, did not come easy. Now that he was safely back in the house, his mind drifted back to the instructions that had triggered this whole night. Why do they want me to kill that poor kid? I can't! Dr. Stern's gaping lifeless face appeared in his mind's eye. I'm so sorry Dr. Stern. What should I do? If only I could ask you.
He rolled off his covers and sat in the chair facing the window that looked over the front yard, remembering the time he saw Travis' car idling on the sidewalk. I'm too young for all this shit. I'm not a killer. I can't do it again. But this is my mom we're talking about. I would never let anything happen to her. What else can I do? I'm going to murder those damn voices, is what I'm gonna do. If only I could... He hung his head and closed his eyes, wishing for nothing more than to disappear.
13
He sat in the chair the remainder of the night, drifting into and out of a troubled sleep. A number of times he attempted to make contact with the voices without entering his mind, but there was never an answer to his feeble threats or pleas.
By morning, he had reached a depressed resolve. After school, he would begin to figure out how he would do it, and then the weekend should present an opportunity to carry it out. Perhaps there was a nonviolent way he could do it, one that would not require him to witness the crime. Poison was a possibility. Before he could worry about that, however, he must learn about his victim in order to figure out a course of action. He had to be careful, and this time he would not have his mother's help. He was determined to do it himself, partly for fear of telling his mother about the agreement, and partly for fear of what she might want to do. He also could not turn to the voices for help. He did not trust their obvious malicious intent, and anything he did would be his own conscious choice. He was terrified of giving away even a fraction of his free will and accidentally slip into the void, losing himself forever. He had resolved to block out the voices completely. Anything that needed doing, he could get through it on his own.
Shadows Within (The Dark Mind Trilogy Book 2) Page 9
