Chapter 4
I stared at the greasy stove, my back to the living room, clutching a bowl of Mac 'n' Cheese in one hand and a cup of water in the other. Once again I was numb, petrified by my thoughts and what lay behind me.
I wasn't sure I'd be able sit at the dining room table, let alone face the opposite direction. I had woken up out of my stupor two days ago and still I didn't believe that I would have been able to get back up if I took a good look at Brian's body. Not yet.
In a day, I thought to myself. Just give yourself this last day to recover and then you'll be ok and you can see him. And everything will be ok. . . . except for the fact that Alek was pissed at me andZane was probably preparing another attack and I had said the same exact thing yesterday.
"Paul's waiting for me," Amy chimed next to me, holding her portion of Mac 'n' cheese along with her boyfriends. I shook my body, pulling my gaze away from the burner and away from my thoughts. It was dangerous for me to be thinking too much. My limbs felt they were flaking into dust. Soon, I figured, I would be a pile of used glue.
"Will you be ok?" Amy asked worriedly. "We won't be long. We just have to, well, explain in person to our parents why we have been absent from school and such. Phone calls weren't enough."
I shrugged and mustered up a smile. But Amy didn't look convinced.
"Ya I'll be ok," I replied.
Then my mothers face appeared in my mind and I squirmed uneasily.
Amy set a gentle hand on my shoulder, holding onto me like I was about to lose balance. But both my feet were steadily on the ground.
"We'll talk to her for you," she said softly. "Alek, Paul, and I spent all night trying to figure out what to tell them. It should be convincing enough." What else had I missed last night?
"Maybe I should-"
"No. We'll do it," Amy interrupted firmly.
"My mom's not going to believe you Amy, even if she is fond of you. She'll think I died or that I'm lying to her."
"Well, we are lying to her."
"Not helping."
"Sorry."
She rubbed my shoulder for a moment and added, "Are you sure you want to be here by yourself?"
I raked my fingers through my grimy hair. God I needed a shower.
"Thanks for the concern, but I promise I'll be fine. Honestly, I should just be coming with you-"
"No. Stay here. Get some more rest and try to get your strength up."
Before someone else tried to kill me, I knew she was thinking.
I sighed, conscious that Amy wasn't going to let me win.
"Do what you can. But please, try to keep the emotional hurt to a minimal. I've screwed mom over enough with all this Mi stuff."
Amy nodded and gave me a light squeeze on my arm. "Will do."
I pretended I didn't notice her concerned eyes following me as she walked out the front door.
She glanced at me one last time before disappearing behind the wood, and then Brian and I were alone.
There was no way I was staying in that house any longer, so I kept my head stiffly in front of me as I walked, conscience of Brian's body on the couch. My eyes were focused on the open glass doors that led to a clean little balcony.
Tomorrow, I reminded myself. Officially take care of life tomorrow.
The vibrancy of the sun stole my attention as I took a step away from the penthouse. Relief eased into my veins at the feel of the warm rays on my skin. I took a deep breath of salty San Francisco air, letting it tangle in my uncombed hair.
I was grateful to be alone.
Ever since I woke up someone was by my side, hovering over me like I was a dam ready to crack and flood. The idea that everybody expected me to break convinced me that I was going to.
But now that everyone was gone, I felt a heavy release- a feeling of freedom- in my mind.
For the past two days I had been napping, mostly, with Amy and Paul catering to my every unasked for need. They were almost suffocating with their concern, but the more I protested the more they loomed around me.
I was done with sleeping and being babied.
The rest was obviously good for me, because my stomach was spotted with ghastly bruises instead of bullet gashes now, but I had done so much of it for a week that the urge to do something other than sit in the penthouse thrummed to life inside of me.
I was healing slowly for MI standards but healing non-the less.
I set my lunch down on a little glass table and settled on the creamy swing chair. The chair swayed carefully back and forward, soothing my simmering emotions. My fingers toyed unconsciously with the skin on my stomach.
I wasn't used to this, all of this emotion. Sure I was a teenage girl but even high school didn't require so many diverse and powerful feelings. All I had to focus on was passing chemistry, getting a date for Friday nights, and not losing my hundred-dollar calculator. Now . . . now I had to worry about not hurting everyone I love, about surviving another day, about defeating the order and keeping my head together, about keeping my mom oblivious, about assuring everyone I was ok. . About Alek and Brian.
I picked my fork up, embracing the cool that spread through my fingers, but the concept of eating seemed useless all of sudden. I tapped the metal against the bowl with a shrill clinking. I kept my focus centered on the noise, trying to find consistency in my life. It seemed to be the only constant, stable thing in my existence at the moment.
The sudden urge to crawl into my mom's arms and cry like a baby overwhelmed me. I wanted her comfort, her reassurance; I wanted to be told that everything was ok. I wiped at my eyes in frustration, feeling the tears begin to swell.
But instead of letting it all go, I glued the dam back together to hold my emotions in check.
How long would I be forced to shove away these tears and muster up strength? I wasn't sure how much longer I could keep pushing these emotions down. Soon enough my internal bucket was going to overflow and when it did, I knew I wasn't going to be able to control myself even in the worst of situations.
I was like a battery destined to be tossed into the dank abyss of a trashcan, all because I kept using my emergency power instead of giving myself time to recharge.
I didn't want to be thrown into a trashcan.
I frowned.
Was I going to have to fight for my life until I died by the hand of exhaustion, of natural cause, of another person? Was I capable enough to be the Uniter? How many people would have to die for me until I was killed or finally safe? How many people would I let down if I simply disappeared and ran away? Did I want to run away?
I tossed my fork into the bowl with a frustrated clang. God, When did I become so pessimistic? The feeling kept me on edge.
I hugged my knees to my chest as if I could protect myself from myself. And Zane. And the world. When did I gain so many enemies?
I took a steadying breath and rolled my shoulders a couple of times. I knew I was stronger than this. Sure a lot of crap had happened in the past few days and an endless list of questions was piling up unanswered, but I was Chloe King. I was capable of getting over the worst of life so I could keep moving forward.
Hope flickered in my mind and I closed my eyes, embracing the world that surrounded me.
I welcomed meditation; it sounded like the perfect remedy.
Car motors thrummed across the streets below me, exhaust filled the air with invisible pollution, music traveled through the wind . . .
I pictured an array of people hurrying to their next destination, worrying about the next solvable problem.
Little did they know that there was a word beyond their mundane one: my world.
The air felt sweeter as birds whistled nearby. The breeze felt like a fresh spray of water on my skin. The rhythm of the chair's swaying soothed me like my mothers voice.
Life was suddenly conquerable.
My jeans pocket vibrated.
Then again relaxation and confidence never lasted very long even when I believed I was human.
I dug Valentina's phone out of my pants; since mine was destroyed Alek insisted on letting me use it just in case something happened while people were running errands. That was all the contact we really had for two days.
The quaked violently in my hand as the word "Amy" glowing brightly on the screen.
I couldn't avoid this call, though the thought was tempting.
"Hello Amy."
"Chloe! Hey!"
"Is something wrong?"
"What? No way, I was just calling to check up on you." I could hear her VW rumbling in the background. Amy must have been driving to her house still.
"You left five minutes ago."
"Seven actually."
"Well I'm fine, thanks for calling! Bye-"
"Wait!" I slumped in my seat.
"Yes?"
"Did you eat your lunch yet?"
I glanced at my untouched Mac 'n' Cheese. "Yes," I said carefully.
"Chloe you need to eat!"
"How did you know I was lying?"
"I'm your best friend. Now eat."
"Yes mother."
"I'm not kidding."
"I know."
"Good."
"good."
"I won't be long."
"Ok."
"Ok."
"By mom."
"Bye by sweetie."
I hung up the phone.
God I loved her, even if she was causing a layer of annoyance to hover on my skin.
I leaned against the swing chair with a sigh, tapping my foot against the ground to rock it back and forward.
I let my eyelids fall closed again.
Hopefully Amy wouldn't call for another thirty minutes.
