Unhinged (13 page)

I finally arrive at my empty house and pull
the keys from my pocket to open the front door. I turn on the light
in the foyer and longing for Mary immediately hits me. No matter
what time I come home, Mary always remembers to leave the light on
for me. But there is nothing but darkness tonight. And the more
despondent I feel, the more I realize there may never again be a
light left on for me. Not unless I can figure out how to erase
those awful memories from the minds of the people who have been
affected. There can be no peace, no moving forward, until I figure
out how to do that, and in doing that, hopefully figure out how
they were put there in the first place. The more I think about it,
the more I am certain those poor people are just screwed.

I make my way up to my bedroom. The fire that
Tyler had set nearly six months ago destroyed my bedroom, but we
had been able to restore it. Soon after, Mary had bought me a new
bed, dresser, and nightstand to replace the ones lost in the
flames. Since all of my clothes were either singed or smelled of
smoke, I had to replace the old black clothes with new ones. Most
girls would be thrilled with purchasing new clothes. Not me. I just
bought different versions of my same black ensemble.

I collapse onto my bed with a heavy sigh. Now
what am I supposed to do? I wasn’t able to help Dejana or Logan by
going into their minds and sifting through their memories. Although
I did find out what’s wrong with them, it doesn’t help me with how
to get them well again. No matter how many times I try to find new
ideas, try to think outside of the box, I keep coming back to the
same dead end—there is nothing I can do. The futility of it causes
anger to boil within me. What good is being able to see the
delusions if there is nothing I can do about it?

I begin to pace within the small confines of
my room, the anger growing stronger with each step I take. There
has to be something I’m missing, a piece of the puzzle I can’t see
yet. But each hour I waste, each minute I go around and around in
circles, is a minute closer to losing the people I love to their
delusions forever. I
have
to figure out what to do next.

I am so deep in thought at first I don’t hear
the small rock hit my window. The clinking sound, albeit faint, is
distinct since the rest of my house is so incredibly quiet without
Mary here. I stop breathing, the rock at the window reminiscent of
when Logan comes to visit me late at night. But I know it can’t be
him since he’s on his way to the hospital right now. Or is he? As I
second-guess myself, thanks to the small seed of hope in my heart,
I hear another small rock hit my window. If I don’t answer it, the
next one might be a bigger rock that crashes thorough. I look
around my room for a weapon to take with me to the window. As I’m
searching, my eyes fall upon a baseball bat Logan left behind last
week after a game. I pick it up and feel empowered with it in my
hands. I move over to the window, open it a slit and back away a
bit to hide behind the wall next to the window.

Outside, I hear the sound of my tree
rustling. It would seem that someone has started to climb up. I
grip the bat firmer in my hands, ready to pounce when the intruder
reaches my window. It isn’t long before a pair of hands grip the
window and push it up all the way. Red Nike shoes come through the
window first, followed shortly by black designer jeans, and a
muscular torso hidden beneath a black shirt. Finally, I see short
brown hair, so I bring down the bat as hard as I can and hit the
person square on the head.

He goes down, but not nearly like I had
envisioned. My hope was to knock him out, but all I seemed to do
was stun him with the blow. He shakes his head, takes a deep breath
to clear it, and stands up to face me. I immediately lock onto his
blue eyes—eyes that are very much aware and extremely pissed.

“Ouch, Aimee!” Brett yells at me as he grabs
the back of his head. “What the hell did you do that for? I thought
you were cool with me coming up when you opened the window! Damn,”
he finishes for emphasis.

“Brett?” I ask incredulously. “What in the
world are you doing sneaking around my house? I thought you were
with Dejana. Hey, wait, how do you even know where I live?” I ask,
still holding the bat high over my head, ready to strike.

Brett goes to sit down on my bed, still
rubbing his sore head. I can tell his pride hurts as much as his
head, but at this moment, I can’t bring myself to care.

“Dejana, of course. I’ve dropped her off here
before, when her car was in the shop. Don’t you remember? It was
sometime last year. I’ve always known where you lived. And since I
have a knack for remembering where things are located, I’m not
likely to forget.”

“Okay, that explains how you know where to
find me, but it still doesn’t tell me why you’re here.”

I can hear Brett’s sigh practically shake the
floor. “Dejana’s parents took her to the hospital. I saw you two
leaving quickly in Logan’s car, so I decided to check on him. When
he wasn’t at his house, I figured he was here. So where is he? In
the bathroom or something? Hiding under the bed?” He snickers at
his own joke.

Hiding under the bed? Ha! I wish. We haven’t
even gotten past kissing and clothes never come off, so yeah, I
wish he were hiding under the bed. My body practically hums
thinking about it. But now isn’t the time for happy thoughts,
especially since the only one I can be happy with is currently
unconscious at the hospital and fighting a crazy girl who sees
ninety two ghost.

Brett clears his throat, bringing me back to
the issue at hand. “Earth to Aimee. I asked where Logan is. He’s
here right?”

Great, now what do I tell him? I know he’s
one of Logan’s friends, but that doesn’t mean Logan has told him
anything about my curse. I know I need to tread lightly, and hope
for the best.

“I’m sorry, but he’s at the hospital, too. He
started not feeling well at Dejana’s, which is why we left in such
a hurry. He wanted to go home to his parents.” Okay, not a complete
lie, but still leaves out the part where I ventured into his brain.
So far, so good.

“Huh,” responds Brett seemingly unruffled by
his friend’s predicament. “So he’s unconscious too?”

“He was when I left him. His parents were
calling an ambulance and there wasn’t anything I could do to help,
so I left,” I finish, hoping that’s all the questions Brett has. Of
course, I am never that lucky.

“So, why aren’t you at the hospital with him
then?” he asks skeptically.

Damn, I don’t have a good answer for that
one. My best move now is shifting the focus of the conversation
back onto him. And if there is one thing I am good at, it’s
evading. “Why aren’t
you
at the hospital with Dejana? Or
Logan for that matter? Why come here, Brett?”

The blank look on his face tells me that he
too is caught off guard, with no apparent answer. All of the
sudden, he decides his head hurts again. “Can you get me some ice
for my head? It’s the least you can do since it’s your fault it
hurts in the first place.”

I concede only in the hopes that it gets him
gone faster. I need to figure out how to help my friends and I
can’t do that if he’s here distracting me. “Okay, but after you’re
numb and all better, you have to leave.”

“Deal,” he says with a crooked smile. What’s
adorable on Logan just appears sinister on Brett.

I head downstairs to the kitchen, push open
the door, and turn on the light. The normally pristine kitchen is
still in a mess from what happened with Mary just a short while
ago. I look at the clock on the stove and see it is just a few
minutes past 1 a.m. I found Mary about this same time twelve hours
ago. Just twelve short hours and my whole world turned nuts. I
stand immobile in the middle of the kitchen, wondering if my world
will ever be put back right, if it's possible for someone like me
to ever be truly happy. I don’t even try to stop the tears falling
down my face. For a girl who never cries, I sure have done a lot of
it lately.

“Are you alright?” I hear Brett ask from
behind me.

Strange, I didn’t hear the kitchen door swing
open and it is usually very loud and creaky. I quickly wipe the
tears away from my eyes, hoping he doesn’t notice. “Yep, just
looking at the mess Mary left behind. I guess I should clean it up
sometime soon,” I say, trying to sound normal despite the fact that
my life has completely fallen apart. In my head, I totally nailed
it. From Brett’s point of view, who knows? I hear him move closer
to me; practically feel his breath on the back of my neck. He moves
so quietly, it almost scares me. But I’ve seen way too many evil
things to be scared by much of anything.

“It’s going to be okay, Aimee,” I hear him
whisper in my ear. “I can help you if you’ll let me.”

I don’t know if it’s the exhaustion or the
absurdity of what Brett said to me, but I begin to laugh. I don’t
have to look at Brett’s face to know that he’s giving me the
‘you’re nuts’ look. I can practically feel it scorching my skin. My
laughter continues until I have a stitch in my side. I fall to the
floor of the disheveled kitchen and laugh a deep laugh born from
the irony of what Brett just said. I finally calm down enough to
answer him.

“My world has completely fallen apart and you
say that it’s all going to be okay?” I say still chuckling.

“Um, yeah?” he ventures, kneeling down beside
me on the kitchen floor.

I look up at his perfect male face, confusion
etched in every feature. His blondish brown hair, longer in the
front than in the back, falls haphazardly on his face, accenting
his rugged sexy look. Even if they aren’t thinking about sex, some
guys still just exude sexiness. It just isn’t fair. His deep blue
eyes are probing, looking me up and down, certain he’s talking to a
certifiable head case. For some reason, his confusion just makes me
laugh even more.

“Tell me what’s so funny, because I just
don’t see it,” he says, completely nonplussed with an annoyed edge
to his voice.

How can I tell him that his words of comfort
are hollow and without any meaning in my world? That he should know
better than to tell me everything will be okay? And that it should
be Logan here telling me that, not him. Or, maybe I really am just
going crazy. I know that nothing in my world can ever be normal.
The sooner I learn that, the better.

I finally calm down enough to answer him. And
about time too since Brett has taken out his cell phone to call
someone, probably to take me to the nut house. Too late, I’ve
already been there today. I know he’s thinking I’m going crazy just
like all the others. Hell, maybe I am.

“Please enlighten me on exactly how this will
all be fine? Logan and Dejana, the only people that have ever loved
me, have been taken from me. My adopted mother, Mary, is so lost
within her mind she doesn’t even know who I am anymore. They all
are, or will be, locked in a hospital for who knows how long. And
worse yet, I can’t find a way to help them. So no, Brett, it won’t
be all right because nothing can ever be all right again. Not until
I get them back. And I damn well intend to get them back,” I state
angrily as if the world can hear my determination. “I just don’t
know how yet.”

“I get it. You’re lost and pissed about it,
but you’re wrong. They aren’t the only ones that have ever loved
you and you don’t have to do any of this alone. I’m here. Logan and
Dejana are my friends, too, and I want to help. So whether you like
it or not, I’m going to help you figure this out.”

Huh. So, Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome has some
honor and bravery in him after all. Who would have thought? And
what did he mean by ‘they aren’t the only ones who have ever loved
you’? How would he know? But none of that matters anyway since I
can’t accept his help, no matter how much I may need it. He can’t
know about my curse.

“Thanks Brett, but no thanks. I can figure
this out on my own.”

“Uh, huh,” he answers, offering nothing more,
nor making any move to leave.

The seconds tick by in silence. I rack my
brain, trying to figure out a way to make him leave, short of just
shoving him out the back door, though I would enjoy that immensely.
I stand up and walk to the cabinet beside the sink. I take out a
glass, intending to fill it with water since I haven’t had a drop
since who knows when, but all thoughts are stopped cold with
Brett’s next words.

“And how do you plan to absorb their memories
when they are all unconscious, Aimee? Or have you tried that
already and that’s why you are so pissed about not being able to
help?”

Okay, now it’s my turn to give him the
‘you’re crazy’ look. “How the hell do you know I can do that?” I
ask, so shocked by his words that I admit it.

“It’s not exactly a secret, Aimee. After
Tyler was killed, a rumor started that you knew he was the killer
because you touched him and took all of his memories. I didn’t
actually believe it until I saw your face just now. So, it’s true
then? You can absorb people’s memories?”

Damn, he was fishing and I fell for it hook,
line, and sinker. I debated briefly as to exactly what I should
divulge to Brett. Maybe I do need help. Perhaps Brett is the
missing piece of the puzzle that can aid in finally bringing back
the people I love. I’m at a standstill and could use the help, even
if it’s from an egotistical guy like Brett. I decide I don’t have
many options, so I’m forced to trust a person I normally wouldn’t
trust at all, and actually still don’t.

“Yes, it’s true. I can absorb memories by
touching someone. That’s why I wear gloves all the time.”

“Cool,” replies Brett. Strangely, he doesn’t
seem freaked out at all by my curse. “So, how does it work
exactly?” he inquires.

How does it work? None of his damn business.
“This isn’t a circus, and I’m not a freak that puts on a show,” I
say angrily.