I could still see it, lithe and bristling like some kind of animal. There were no raised haunches or bared teeth. It didn’t growl or groan or say my name. But it knew me. It wanted me.
Roman had told me to run but then I’d blinked. I’d blinked and I was dry and I was alone. And Roman was still back there.
I sat up in bed and for a minute I just stayed there. I could feel the light pouring in from the window. I could hear the warble of water from a faucet, the clinking of drawer handles as my mom shuffled around the kitchen. I heard my grandmother flipping the channels on the TV. A car driving by outside. Doors opening and falling closed. The real world so loud that I couldn’t think.
Because Roman could be hurt. He could be…Stop it. Stop.
The dream-state is safe, it’s always been safe. Because it’s made of my memories, of me.
I took a deep breath. One more. I looked down at my wrist, threaded with another string of rosemary. It was shriveled and stiff and I ripped it free.
Useless.
My door pushed open, my mom carrying an armful of clean laundry. When she saw me sitting up she dropped it onto the floor.
“Oh Bryn, you’re awake.” She reached for me. “How are you feeling?” My mouth was pinned shut. “Are you hungry? You feel a little warm. Let’s get you some ice water.”
I followed her into the kitchen, wordless, anxious.
My grandmother was standing in front of the microwave, eyes inches from the metallic lining of the small window. She was about to say something but then she looked up at me, face softening the way it had the night she’d come to my room.
“Was it long?” I glanced at the calendar, counting for myself. Eleven days.
“How…did you sleep?” my grandmother said as she came around to the table.
I avoided her eyes, confused. I wasn’t sure why she was so concerned with how I was sleeping lately but exposing the cracks in my psyche was the last thing I needed to do, especially with my mom in the room.
“Fine,” I said, not looking at her. I noticed a stack of papers on the table with the Emory seal in the top right corner. “What are those?”
My mom was quiet. Unusually quiet.
I sat down across from her. “Is this about the campus visit? You made the arrangements, right?”
“I did…”
“We’re still going?”
She finally looked at me. “They’re getting more frequent, Bryn.”
“Mom.” My voice slipped into that annoying desperate whine reserved for those few moments I liked to pretend I was still a kid. That I could still get my way. “You promised. You said—”
“I know what I said but…they’re…they’re happening more often, Bryn. We just have to be careful. You have to be careful.”
“I am careful. I’m always careful. Just don’t cancel the trip. Please. Let’s just go. Let me have that at least. We’ll decide when we get back. Just, please.”
Her face softened.
“Let the girl go,” my grandmother said. “It might be her one chance to set foot on a college campus.” Again there was that strange lilt to her voice, a softness that made me feel afraid rather than comforted. She must have noticed the strange looks my mom and I were giving her because she immediately hardened her voice as she added, mid-chew, “Let her get it out of her system and then you can force her back here to rot.”
“Fine,” my mom sighed.
I leaned over, kissing her on the cheek. She made a face.
“Bathroom. Toothbrush. Now.”
The Girl In Between (The Girl In Between Series Book 1) Page 25
