Sleeper

by MacKenzie Cadenhead

  “I am not letting you go until you calm down,” he hisses in my ear.

  “And I am not calming down until you stop being a total psycho!” I yell. “Jesus, you have to get off the Dexid. It’s making you a complete dick!”

  “How?” he asks. “By allowing me to do what I want, when I want to? It’s about time I got some control. I think a little id is good for the soul. Just because you can’t handle it doesn’t mean I have to go to rehab.”

  I kick back again, and this time, I catch part of his shin. He grunts, but my achievement is purely symbolic. His embrace tightens, and I lose my breath.

  My pulse quickens. Sweat breaks out across my flesh. I close my eyes and involuntarily imagine a Burner. I’m suddenly there—wrapped in the monster’s arms, being held so tightly that I believe my eyes will pop out, that my teeth will fall out, that my eardrums will burst. I feel the terror at knowing once this is over, I’ll still be trapped, imprisoned in my own body until some arbitrary clock deems me once again worthy to be the boss of my physical self. I recall all this so vividly that the panic I feel is as real as in my nightmares.

  But it’s not a nightmare. I’m not asleep. And this is not a Burner holding me but a boy. The boy who says he’s my everything yet is trying to squeeze me into nothing. I’m not afraid. I’m furious. It feels good.

  I still my body, slow my breathing. I stop fighting him, and as promised, the less I struggle, the looser Wes’s grip becomes until finally, he lets go of me.

  I can turn around now and smack him or spit in his face and run off. There’s an infinite number of ways the moment can go that will keep things between us. No one else needs to get involved. But I’ll never know. Because I don’t get the chance to make the next move.

  Jamie makes it for me.

  “Sarah?” my ex says as he emerges from his car. “Are you all right?”

  I jump at the growl in Jamie’s voice. This is not good. This fight is between Wes and me alone, and I must defuse this potentially nuclear situation now. All I can think to do is play it cool. So I walk straight over to Jamie and give him a hug.

  “Hey. Yeah, I’m great,” I say cheerfully. “How are you? Headed to the Alp?”

  Jamie says nothing, just stares at Wes.

  “Where are my manners?” I say. “I bet you two haven’t met.”

  “Nope,” Wes replies. He’s glaring too.

  “Sarah, I think you should come inside,” Jamie says. He holds out his hand to me but keeps his eyes locked on Wes.

  Crap.

  “Thanks, but we ate with Tessa already. In fact, I kind of need to get going. My mom wants me in early tonight.”

  “Good,” says Jamie. “I’ll drive you.”

  At this, Wes laughs. “Thanks, pal, but Sarah’s got a ride.”

  No one moves. My good guy ex and unhinged boyfriend stare each other down. The last thing I need is two testosterone-happy guys going at it right now. But I have no idea how to stop this showdown. I open my mouth to say something, anything, to just talk until I come up with a plan. But before a single sound escapes, Jamie takes my hand and pulls me toward the stairs of the Alp.

  Wes grabs my other arm and yanks me away from Jamie, shoving me behind him. Without the slightest pause, Jamie pivots and swings. The crack of knuckle hitting bone pops in the cool night air. Wes staggers sideways, landing on the hood of a car.

  He licks blood at the corner of his mouth and smiles. It’s not unlike the crooked smirk that I once found so enticingly playful. But now there’s menace in its curve. Jamie’s violence is exactly what Wes has been waiting for. The license to lose his shit. He doesn’t want to unleash it on me. He wants me. But in Jamie, all he sees, all he’s ever wanted to see, is the unnatural system he’s never fit into and is determined to take down. It doesn’t matter who Jamie really is—a jock who deserves a beating or a doctor who sees Wes as nothing more than a lab rat. Wes is giddy with self-deputized license.

  I throw myself between them.

  “Jamie, it’s time to go,” I say.

  “Yes, it is,” he agrees and turns toward the Alp.

  It takes him a couple of steps before he realizes that I’m not coming with him. He turns back to look at me, and his expression makes my stomach ache. I’ve known Jamie since we were twelve years old. He was my first love and a true friend. I’ve known him happy and sad, but I’ve never seen him look this defeated.

  I meet his eyes, but only for a second. Shifting my focus to the shoulder of his letterman jacket, I will myself not to cry. He shoves his hands in his pockets, turns, and walks up the stairs into the Alp. He doesn’t look back.

  I feel Wes’s arms slide around my waist in machismo triumph, and he rests his chin on my shoulder. He squeezes me softly as he breathes in my hair. He needs me, needs us.

  But I do not.

  “We’re done,” I say.

  He stops breathing.

  “We’re done when we’re done,” he replies. “And there’s still so much for us to do.” He slides his hand under my shirt and runs his finger up my side, but I ignore it.

  “I’m not taking the Dexid tonight,” I say.

  “Yes, you are. You need it,” he whispers. His fingers trace the underwire of my bra.

  “I’d rather be held down by straps than under your thumb,” I reply.

  “You seem to like my thumb right now.” His fingers switch direction, traveling down my body. I want to shiver, but I don’t move a muscle.

  “You’re a grenade,” I say.

  “And you’re the pin. You wouldn’t leave me to my own devices, would you? Who knows what I might do without you.” He turns me around to face him. “Make no mistake. I won’t let anyone come between us. Not even you.”

  My breath catches in my throat. I finally, truly understand that he’s meant every word he’s ever said to me.

  And I’m so not cool with that.

  Suddenly, everything comes back to me from Mrs. Burke’s self-defense lesson. I place my palms on Wes’s shoulders. Shift my weight to my back leg. Thrust my front knee up into his groin.

  Hard.

  In the moment of pained confusion that overwhelms him, I pull myself free and run.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  I run home through side alleys and backyards, taking a route that no one who isn’t a local would ever dream up. When I arrive at my house, I lock the door and run to my room. I skip the Dexid and have my mom strap me to the bed. I close my eyes and wait for sleep.

  It doesn’t come.

  I lay awake for hours, going over everything that’s happened in the past week. Attempted manslaughter, losing my friends, finding my dream guy, inhabiting other people’s dreams, inhabiting other people, hurting those people. How have things gotten so out of hand? Is it the extra Dexid we’ve taken that’s messing with our judgment? Should I lay all the blame on Wes and the meds? Can I excuse his behavior because of that little gold pill? Or are Wes and I alone more responsible than I care to admit?

  I think Wes is an addict. And so am I. But I’m not sure which new vice in my life I’m the most addicted to. I breathe deep and tell myself to let it all go. Take the night off. I’ll deal with that one addiction, Wes, in the morning. He can’t get to me without the Dexid in my system. I’m alone. I’m safe. At least for tonight.

  I finally begin to nod off around 1:00 a.m. Drifting then dozing, I’m on my way to an uninhabitable sleep when the sound of my window opening jolts me awake. I freeze as the shadow of an imposing male figure crawls from the thick branches of the old oak outside my window into my room. I’m about to scream when said figure waves.

  “Jamie, what are you doing?” I whisper furiously. “My mother’s down the hall. You almost gave me a heart attack!”

  He moves to the edge of my bed. “I had to come check on you,” he says. “After the parking lot and that j
ackass. I needed to know you were all right.”

  “Okay, fine,” I say. “But first, a little help please?” I jiggle my wrists and ankles against my restraints. Jamie unbuckles each one then sits opposite me on my bed.

  “I’m all right,” I say finally. “Tonight was not so good. Things with me and Wes are…” I pause, searching for the right word.

  “Complicated?” he asks.

  I snort. “You could say that. We just had a fight about some stuff we’re not really seeing eye to eye on right now.”

  His jaw clenches, and a muscle pulses in the hollow of his cheek. “You going to break up with him?”

  I sigh. “If only it were that simple. Honestly? I don’t know what to do. He really freaked me out tonight but we have a…connection. I don’t think I can just walk away.”

  “Sure you can,” Jamie says. “You put one foot in front of the other and leave. Plenty of others have done it before.”

  His fisted knuckles palpitate, and his voice burns like acid. Jamie may be a friend, but he’s a former boyfriend too—and probably not the best choice for a heart to heart about Wes. Time to change the subject.

  “Listen,” I say. “I appreciate you checking on me. Truly. But I’m okay. And you have to go. Remember the last time my mom caught you in my bedroom?” I smile, recalling the time we got busted during a PG-13 headed for R-rated hookup.

  The memory makes me blush. But when I look back at Jamie, he’s frowning.

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “I shouldn’t have brought up when we were together.”

  “Want to know the truth?” He puts his hand on my naked thigh just below where my pajama shorts cut off. “I wish you’d think about those times more often.”

  I stare at Jamie. I’m shocked by his boldness but, if I’m being honest, not all that surprised. Seeing me with Wes can’t be easy for him, and in some ways, it’s not easy for me. It isn’t like I stopped liking Jamie when we broke up. I dumped him because I was trying to protect him. And maybe because I told myself he was too good for me. Jamie is the stable guy, the one who’s always been there.

  “But I’m with…”

  He puts his finger to my lips and leans forward.

  When Jamie looks at me, he sees the normal girl who I used to so desperately want to be. The me I should probably get back to. And maybe I can with him by my side, balancing my crazy—unlike Wes, who exponentially multiplies it. What if Jamie is my cure? He’s strong, kind, and he still wants me.

  I don’t move as he replaces his finger with his mouth. And when his lips part, I plunge, searching for the past, the familiar, for a homing beacon to guide me back to the real Sarah and away from the Bonnie I’ve become to Wes’s Clyde.

  But the kiss is the opposite of comfort. It cuts any ties I have left to normalcy. It’s awkward, strange, foreign, wrong. It’s the furthest thing from the sweet, romantic kisses Jamie once gave me.

  Because the person I’m kissing isn’t Jamie. It’s Wes.

  I ricochet backward, slamming against the headboard. I wipe my mouth violently with the back of my hand.

  “Psycho,” I hiss.

  “Slut,” Wes says from within Jamie.

  “Get out of him,” I demand. “Get out of him right now.”

  “Or what?” he asks. He places Jamie’s hands behind his head and leans casually against them. “Though I hate to admit it, your ex here is quite the specimen, Sarah. I can see why you want him.”

  “I don’t want him!” I scream-whisper. “You just showed up at the right time. I’m about fifty-two cards short of a full deck right now, and your mind games aren’t helping.”

  Jamie’s face is cold, stony. Wes says nothing.

  “What?” I demand. “Do you want me to say I’m sorry? To apologize for turning to Jamie after what you pulled in Amber’s dream and your schizo reality break at the Alp? I might not be employee of the month in the girlfriend department, but you’re batting a thousand at the psychopath games. Honestly, Wes, this is no way to have a relationship.”

  “I warned you there would be consequences,” he says.

  “Oh, right,” I snarl, rolling my eyes. “Well, you’ve exposed me for the unfaithful slut I am by throwing me into the arms of someone else. Well done! Congrats!”

  Wes’s crooked smile warps Jamie’s face. “That’s not the consequence, Sarah. That was just the setup.”

  I look at him, incredulous and, at first, not understanding.

  Then my eyes widen in panic. “Wes, how much Dexid did you take?” No reply. “Oh God, please,” I plead, the fury and the fight totally gone. “This has nothing to do with Jamie. Don’t do anything stupid.”

  Wes jumps to Jamie’s feet. “Oh, I think I can do just about anything I want to. I mean, isn’t that the beauty of this whole thing? I am in complete control of this body, and I can do whatever I want with or to it. It’s up to me. Not him, not you—me.”

  His body is tense, humming. He paces the room like a captive tiger patrolling the perimeter of his cage. “What if I drink lover boy blind and then go for a drive? That’d be interesting. Or maybe I’ll just grab a hammer and smash his throwing hand.”

  Wes stops and looks at me. Then he pounces on the bed. I scramble backward, but he pins me down as his body straddles mine. “Or maybe I’ll have him do the things to you that you’re so clearly itching for.”

  He puts his hand on my throat and tightens just enough to let me know things can still get much worse. “Sarah,” he says wistfully. “We could have been so great together. I mean, you’d have thought we were destined, right? That we belonged together, two halves of a single whole.” He lowers his voice as if telling me a secret. “You know, I’d always sensed a part of me was missing. I thought I’d found it when I met you.” With a snarl of disgust, he releases his grip and pushes himself off me. “Oops, my bad.”

  Standing, he walks toward the window. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to see what it’s really like to be Captain America. Remember, whatever happens to Jamie is your fault.”

  Panic cyclones through my body. I have to stop him from hurting Jamie, but how? Reasoning with him isn’t an option, and fighting him is clearly out. Physically, Wes is a formidable enough foe in his own body, but in Jamie’s, I don’t stand a chance. Which is why he doesn’t expect an attack.

  I move on desperate instinct. Reaching behind my mattress, I yank the plug from the wall, grab my bedside lamp, and run full force at my possessed ex. Before he can react, I smash the lamp over his head.

  Jamie collapses on the floor, unconscious but Wes-free. I try to drag him to my bed, to tie him up with my restraints before Wes has the chance to invade his body again, but there’s no way I can move two hundred pounds of dead weight. So I do the only thing that comes to mind. I race to my bathroom and throw open the medicine cabinet. I grab a Dexid, swallow it dry, and pray for sleep.

  Within moments, my eyelids…

  shut…

  and…

  I am in the station’s lower tunnels. I run through the maze of halls and arches like I’m following a map, until I come to a ramp that leads to an idling train—and any number of doors that Wes could have gone through.

  Which dream is Jamie’s? How do I find him?

  I have no idea, no sense of where he could be. I feel lost again, alone. I may see the station, but I might as well be in the dark, groping around blind. Like my first night on Dexid when I fell out of the train. When I was falling in the void, plummeting into nothingness.

  Until I thought of Tessa.

  My heart skips. I thought of Tessa, and I found her. And when we dosed Gigi and Amber and Kiara, I was able to find them too.

  And Wes.

  I think of his words, of what he said. That he was alone until I found him.

  Okay, Lover Boy, I think. Show yourself.

  I close my
eyes and imagine him. His anger and manipulations, his superior attitude, and his hatred of Jamie.

  I open my eyes. Nothing. Nothing has changed except for how thoroughly pissed off I am. I shake it off and try again.

  This time, I picture Wes as I first saw him in the station. I see his eyes, bright and alive, anxious but excited. I see his half-cocked grin inviting me to play. I feel his hand, firm and sure, guiding me. His embrace protecting me. His breath reviving me.

  My body lightens… My feet skim the ground… The hum of the idling train fades into a white noise lullaby… I open my eyes, and the colors of the train have muted, save for one door that glows brighter than all the rest.

  Bingo.

  I go to it.

  And step inside.

  Jamie’s dreamscape is simple. A cavernous room with vaulted ceilings, polished wood floors, nothing but old pews lining the outer walls. And two guys facing off in its center. Jamie wobbles where he stands, his head in his hands as though coming to with a wicked hangover after an eventful night he’ll never remember. Wes is on all fours a few yards away, struggling to his feet after his violent expulsion from Jamie. He’s dazed but coming around quickly. I don’t have much time to stop him, but I think I’ve got a chance.

  Until…

  A low growl rumbles behind me.

  A Burner looms in the doorway.

  I am not as quick on my feet as I need to be, and the beast comes up faster than I can take off. I’m sure I am toast. But then it sidesteps me and continues on.

  It’s not after me. It wants to stop Wes.

  But Wes doesn’t even realize the Burner’s there. He’s completely focused on Jamie, and he’s closer to the dreamer than anyone. As the Burner charges, Wes tries to leap the last few yards to jump into Jamie’s body, but he trips over his own feet and wipes out just as the Burner reaches them.