Torn (5 page)

“Sam. Calm down. Everything will be okay.”

“Please. Please don’t let it be true, Lucas. Please tell me he isn’t here to tell me my dream came true.”

“Sit over here.” He steered me towards the couch. “Let me handle this.”

As he crossed the room to talk to Mac, Ethan sat down next to me, wiping my face with a warm, damp cloth. He folded my hand into his and rubbed my back as I continued to sob.

“Sam, honey.”
Mac knelt in front of me. “I am so sorry. Your father was killed transporting medical supplies between villages. They believe it was a gang of men known to roam the area. They killed everyone in the van. I am so sorry...”

His words disappeared as if someone had hit the mute button. I saw his lips moving, I saw tears well up in his eyes, but I heard nothing. I saw him reach out for my hand but I couldn’t feel him. There wasn’t anything I could say to him. There wasn’t anything I could say to anyone. As my world crashed around me the only thing I was conscious of was Ethan holding my hand, and I held on to his for dear life.

CHAPTER 4

April, Pensacola, Florida:

Dad!”
I screamed in terror. Tangled up in my sheets and sweaty from my restless memory, I screamed, “Daddy!”

Lucas came running like the world was on fire and was at my side, shaky with concern, before I could bellow another syllable. Instead I just cried giant, breathless tears that had no end. He held me and rocked me until I gained some semblance of composure. Every muscle in my body ached from some otherworldly fight. Still uncertain, I opened my eyes and allowed them to adjust to the quiet darkness. It was then I noticed Ethan on the other side of the bed holding my hand, head bowed and murmuring something I couldn’t understand. With every word he uttered, my terror eased and I became, for lack of a better word, hopeful.
Calm.
As if he could sense my ease, Lucas loosened his grip and began to stroke my hair.

“Are you alright, Sam? We’re here. Nothing is going to happen to you. We’re here.”

We’re here
. For reasons beyond my understanding those words both comforted and frightened me.

“I had that dream again. It was terrible and beautiful.” My voice hitched. “I saw my dad again.”

Ethan stopped his whispers for a moment to inquire, “Was it the same as the last time you saw him?”

“Kind of.
It was that whole ‘my turn’ dream again. He was telling me it was my turn now. But there was more to it, this time. There was more clarity. More caution.”

The box.
The box that had been haunting my dreams since my father died.
The box that called out to me.
I had no idea what it meant. All I knew was it just showed up one day in my dreams, like an omen.
Warning me of my father’s death.
Warning of some impending doom that I was now supposed to get ready for.
It all seemed so real.

I’d done everything I could think of to forget about the damn box but it wouldn’t let me. All I wanted was a moment to mourn my dad. I wanted to miss him for just a little while without some weird vision interrupting me.

Yet, I knew I needed to see it again. I was sure I was supposed to have it.

“What do you remember? Sam, tell me everything,” Lucas said, his voice demanding.

“I’m just repeating myself. Every day you tell me to tell you what I remember. It’s the same, just, I don’t know,
more
.”

Ethan’s tone was easy, “I know, Sam. We just have to be sure.”

“Be sure of what?”

“We don’t know yet.”

Everyday for the past two weeks it was the same “we don’t know yet” answer. I just wanted the dream to go away. I knew it meant something. I just didn’t know what.

“I remember a package on my doorstep,” I began. Somehow, Ethan’s touch gave me the courage to allow the words to come out. I took comfort in the feeling that I could somehow tell he was afraid for me.

“It has no return address. My name is written on the paper and the script floats and shimmers. I remember Ethan comes in and scares me. The box is inside the package. The word, Hope, is written in another language. I cut my hand.”

Lucas took a deep breath and asked, “What do you remember about the box?”

“Nothing,” I said, shaking my head.
“Except you said something about Hope.
I don’t remember anything other than that. I cut my hand and passed out. Oh, and the lid. It was carved.
Beautiful.
And familiar somehow.”

“Okay. Are you sure it wasn’t just the same dream again? You’re pretty tired and—”

“Look, there was more.” I hated it when Ethan patronized me. “I may have been kept under lock and key for the past two weeks but there was more to that dream, and I remembered it all. It was terrible and beautiful.
Frightening and serene.
It made me feel like I was supposed to go to it.
To the box.
And my dad has something to do with it.”

The boys exchanged a glance that I couldn’t mistake. They knew I was telling the truth. It was almost as if they expected it.

Without allowing them to interject, I continued. “I am somewhere dark.
Dark and mountainous with the sea below me.
There is so much sadness.
So much anger.
In the distance I see swirls of light shooting through the sky. It’s like they are locked in some strange dance. One is ominously dark and the other is beautifully golden. I can’t stop focusing on them. They seem to move closer every time I blink. I hear this amazing humming sound. It’s everywhere. I thought I would go deaf with the noise. Then I see my dad, like I told you before. He says it’s
my turn
.” I shook my head, anticipating their next question. “No, no. He doesn’t explain this time. That part is exactly the same.”

“Maybe you
did
have the same dream all over again,” Lucas stated softly.

I stood up and eyed them defiantly. I wasn’t going to let them brush this off again. I surprised myself, wondering why I would think such a thing. Why would
they
?

With anger in my blood, I continued. “You aren’t listening. I said there was more. Not only does the box arrive on my doorstep, but also I touch it, bleed on it. Hope. I remember the word Hope. Then I see my dad and when he leaves, a girl appears. She isn’t exactly a girl, considering she has wings. True, they are the most beautiful wings I’ve ever seen, but for Christ’s sake, they are still
wings
! Not wings like a bird, but more like a fairy or a pixie.

“When she speaks, all the buzzing stops.
The wind dies down and the sea becomes placid, like a lake. She tells me I have to train. I have to help her. She’s sad. She’s so sad. But she tells me I can’t let anyone make me think my dad was anything other than a good man.
That I have to keep his memory.
That I would ‘teeter on the edge of darkness.’
Oh, and she tells me I would be betrayed before I could succeed.
Whatever that means.”

The room was so quiet I could hear nothing but my own ragged breathing. Lucas’s eyes were fixed to the floor and Ethan was staring at me like I had just told him I was dying.

“What? What?” My words sounded hysterical even to me. Lucas and Ethan looked at each other for a long moment.

Softly, Ethan broke the silence, “She knows. It’s time to tell her everything.”

“No,” Lucas retorted. “It’s still too early. We haven’t heard from the others. They’re supposed to tell us when it’s time. She isn’t ready yet.”

“Time for what?
Ready for what?
What’re you two talking about?”

Ethan continued. “Lucas, you might be the one in charge, the one they communicate through but I’m protecting her, too.
Training her, too.
We began her training without their consent, so we can tell her this without it as well.”

“Ethan, I don’t know. I don’t know why we haven’t heard from them. I don’t know why we’ve been given no instruction. This is a special case. This has never happened before.”

“Then it’s up to us. It was up to us to start up her training. Now it’s up to us to tell her the truth.”

“Stop it! Stop it now!” An uncomfortably familiar anger bubbled out of me and I began to pace. “Don’t talk about me like I’m not here! Don’t talk about me like I’m some special
job
you’ve been given. You’re talking about taking me from my home.” Surprise flashed across their faces but only briefly. “Don’t think I can’t hear your whispered conversations. You won’t let me talk about that god-forsaken box that keeps intruding on my thoughts other than when you think it’s necessary. I can’t even grieve for my father. This damned dream won’t let me. And I miss him!” My eyes welled with tears. “I miss him and I want to be able to miss him without disturbing thoughts, unwelcome visions, and voices that fill my head with fear and anxiety.”

My voice pitched on the edge of insanity but I didn’t care. “Well, it seems my safety, my life, is in danger and you two are bickering over whether or not you should tell me something that’s obviously important. Well, screw you. It’s my goddamn life, for Christ’s sake! So talk! Tell me what is going on. I know something is out there. Something is happening and it feels, well, it feels evil.

“I hear these voices in my head.” I brought my hands up to cover my ears.
“Always with the voices.
They keep telling me to run. I see my dad in my dreams and all he tells me is it’s my freakin’ turn with no goddamned explanation. Then I see a fairy girl
thing
and I know she’s real. It isn’t a dream. I
know
she’s
real
. And she talks of betrayal and success.”

I stopped pacing and stared at them. “I trust you because I somehow know there’s something dangerous around me. I feel it in my bones that I’m somehow a part of it. Ever since that stupid box showed up in my head, my thinking has changed. My life has changed and, by God, you’re going to tell me or I’m going to walk. I’ll walk the hell away and I won’t look back. I’ll find out, on my own, what’s happening to me and what happened to my father. I’ll find out who and what you really are.”

Again, surprise flicked in their eyes as I jabbed a finger at the two of them. “Yeah, that much I figured out. And I don’t give a rat’s ass about safety or protocol or whatever the hell you two are confused about. You talk or I will make you miserable in a way that I know deep down only I can. Understand?”

Both boys stared at me as if they’d never met me before, and I knew I was no closer to an explanation. My generally laid back persona had disappeared as soon as I let the anger and grief take the lead. I felt like I was drowning in shadows. I radiated darkness and shook with frustration. I seethed. Turning on my heel, I stormed out of the room, making sure the door slammed hard enough to let them know I meant it.

I walked outside and no one followed. I shoved my ear buds into my ears and shuffled through the playlists on my iPod. Volume at nearly full blast and the song on repeat, I waited for Fred Durst to start breaking stuff. I smiled wickedly when I realized it was the perfect song for my sour mood.

Running like I was on fire, I darted through the neighborhood to the community park and followed the path for about two miles until I came to the creek. This was my thinking spot.
My decompression zone.
I started pacing, shaking out the muscles in my arms that had tightened up. I couldn’t stop vibrating with anger, fear, and whatever else I couldn’t describe. It was all a bit too intense. I was having trouble talking myself back down, and I could feel myself drowning in it.

At that moment, I just wished for my life to go back to what it was. I wanted to finish high school, go to prom, start college, and whatever else I knew would be taken from me. I screamed as loud as I could and plopped down at the edge of the water.

Skipping rocks across the creek, I decided to practice the new little trick I’d discovered. I looked around to see if anyone had followed me and, with a knot in my stomach, I realized no one had. I hurled the first rock as hard and far as I could. It shattered to dust on a tree trunk on the opposite side of the creek. I stared at my hand.
That wasn’t part of the trick.

Tossing the next one, I watched as it bounced across the water and disappeared. I focused on the spot where it sank and concentrated. Shakily, I held out my hand and the rock crept slowly out of the water and skipped back toward me, back into my hand. I practiced my technique for the next half hour, trying to get the rock to move in a fluid motion, and smiling as I thought about the fact that I hadn’t told the boys about it.

They’ve kept secrets from me. I am keeping this from them.

But, it would be kind of cool to show them this. I hadn’t practiced on anything bigger than a fist-sized rock and I began to wonder if I could do it on something larger.

Looking around, I saw a small, fallen tree. Dusting myself off and zipping up my hoodie, I walked over to the log and inspected it. The tree’s trunk was no thicker than my forearm and had snapped off near the base, leaving a short stump sticking out of the ground. I placed one hand over the rotted stump and another over the fallen tree. In my head I focused on the tree and pictured it whole and undamaged. The air around me began to twirl in anticipation as energy crept back into the tree. With a shudder, the air died down and I opened my eyes. The tree was whole again, its leaves green and lush.
No way. That’s
seriously cool
.

That little experiment had sapped my energy.
No pun intended
, I chuckled to myself.
I found a mossy spot next to the now healed tree and sat down. I stared at the lush leaves and then plucked one off to examine it.
How did I do that
? I shook my head in disbelief, yet unable to stop myself from smiling at the same time. I had no idea what was going on and I wished I knew. I sat there for a long time, snapping twigs and putting them back together. Finally, allowing Sarah McLachlan to calm me, I closed my eyes.