Burn
Twenty-Two
Amnesiac
Beep…beep…beep.
I'm lying in my bed, listening to a truck back up in the cul-de-sac. Our neighbors are moving away, and I haven't slept at all today.
Lauren is already gone, hurrying to work as fast as she can. She left at three AM and hasn't even called to check in on me to make sure I haven't jumped off the roof or swallowed an entire bottle of pills.
"You know," Royce says conversationally from his corner, where he watches me hungrily, "you should probably get up. Make an appearance in the window or something, so the neighbors don't think you're dead." He's scrubbing at the scars rippling down his face with one hand, tracing the length of the scar tissue.
"Why?" I ask, looking out the window to watch a girl climb out of the U-Haul truck and head up my neighbor's driveway. Her skin is smooth and freckled, like mine used to be before the Accident.
If I close my eyes, I can still hear the fire alarm going off, the whoosh of the flames as they climbed higher and higher, the horrible stench of my skin burning.
"So they don't call the cops." He pushes off the wall and swims into view. "You're pretty stupid."
Since we got back, he's been pretty tame, no episodes of face melting or hysterical screeching and wandering hands while I sleep. He keeps watching me eagerly, his eyes big and glossy like black stones, like he's waiting for something to happen. Sometimes, when I wake up at night, he's not there and he quivers like static when he appears, looking ashy and dull-eyed.
"Why would they call the cops?" I push myself upright and push some hair away from my face.
"Because they'll think you're dead," he spits, suddenly beyond livid, his bloodshot eyes focused entirely on me but it's like he's staring through me, like I'm transparent.
My heart stutters once, twice, and then there's a hand squeezing it, tighter and tighter. I gasp, choking on my breath, and I kick my blankets away.
Stars dance in my eyes as the hand stops squeezing my heart and moves onto my lungs, using a vice-like grip that makes me gasp and pant for breath.
"R-Ro—" I plea but my breath is cut off, words choked out of me by the hand.
There's a blinding light when I wake up, shining right into my eyes.
The air is wet and cold; it stinks like fresh cut grass that's been sitting under the sun for a long while.
I'm freezing, my arms and legs stinging, and my stomach rolls when I crawl onto all fours. Sweat runs into my eyes as I wait for stomach to stop pushing bile up my throat; every inch of my t-shirt and shorts are soaked with wet dampness and I smell urine. Did I pee? I crawl like an animal to a nearby tree—why are there trees? Am I in the woods? —and cling to it with both arms, using it as leverage so I can stand on unsteady feet.
There's big, fat pine trees all around, pine needles ticking to my legs, which are covered in scratches, and there's sap under my nails, which are ragged like they've been ripped off.
I'm breathing through my nose as I slowly look around, head pounding as I do so. My throat burns as I swallow a gritty mouthful of saliva, only tasting blood.
I look up to see a huge moon looming above me, casting silver light everywhere and turning the trees black, throwing the burns on my skin into high definition, reminding me of the Accident. The scratches on my arms are bright and puffy, inflamed; the ones on my legs still bleed. There's crunching footsteps and the trees shake.
I press my cheek into the rough bark and breathe deeply until I can stand on my legs without the tree.
"Chloe?" the masculine voice asks.
I turn and stare at the unfamiliar man, taking in the wavy hair pulled up into a ponytail and a scruffy beard.
His eyes are staring at me in a wide fashion, like he's surprised at seeing me, out of everyone. There's a dark sweat stain around the collar of his t-shirt that draws attention to a puffy scar around his throat.
"Chloe?" he repeats, creeping closer with his hands up.
Maybe he thinks I'm a cornered animal that will strike out.
I look down at my body, taking in my missing socks and unlaced shoes that are crammed onto my feet. There's blood under my nails, ragged cuticles with dried blood over the tears in the skin. I can't imagine how wild and tangled my hair is or how dirty my face is.
"Are you okay?" He unwraps a windbreaker from his shoulders and holds it out to me.
I take a few steps towards him and slide my arms through the sleeves. "What happened?" I whisper, my voice nothing more than a hushed whisper; my throat is scratchy like I've been howling all night.
"I found her!" he yells over his shoulder. A beam of light cuts across his shoulders, spilling over the sides of his head, shining straight into my eyes. His eyes have big pupils.
"What happened?" he repeats incredulously. "Chloe, you disappeared. Doctor Fellows came home at about three and there weren't any clues at all, no note, no witnesses, nothing."
He holds my arm tight enough to bruise me as he leads me forward, holding me up when I trip over roots.
"Rae's getting that revenge!" Royce screams in my ear and I jerk out of the man's grasp, tumbling flat on my back; I'm gasping for the breath hat had been knocked out of me.
"You won't even realize when it happens. People will think you're crazy. No one will be able to understand why little Chloe is disappearing, making everyone worry like a bad girl." He's smiling, teeth on display as the man takes me by the arm, helping me up.
We break through the trees.
I see the red and blue lights of a police car, Lauren's knobby, too tall frame silhouetted against the flashing lights.
"Chloe!" she screams.
Why does she always scream at me?