Whispering Minds (10 page)

Their lives were so much more complete than hers. Their pain so much less.

Luna closed her eyes to the memories of her childhood. To the hunger that stirred in her belly and the cries left unanswered. Never had she been heard. Never had anyone cared enough to provide her with even the most basic needs.

She rocked back and forth, as if in the rocking chair she never had the pleasure to experience as a small child. The cell phone fell from her grasp, and she tucked her thumb into her mouth, sucking on it to bring even the smallest shred of comfort.

Shadows from her past paraded by: her mother, falling drunkenly down the stairs, dropping Luna as she rolled to a stop on the landing. Her father striking out at both of them, and herself, bleeding and alone. The visions never changed, only the place. The bedroom. The bathroom. The kitchen. Every room had been christened in her blood.

Luna reached into the dark and wrapped her fingers around a steak knife. The jagged edge caught on her flesh as she raked it across her arm. She laughed—an empty laugh in an empty room. They couldn’t even call this cutting. It wasn’t clean enough. More like a tear.

It’s what she wanted. To be torn from this world. To be ripped from her past. Yet she knew she didn’t deserve to die. She had been brought here only to suffer. It was her job, or so she had been told.

* * *

I awoke to my parents sneaking out of the house. Or so it seemed anyway. I rolled over and caught sight of them out my window. I snuggled deeper under the covers and watched as they dropped their duffel bags into the back of my dad’s car and climbed inside. The engine stuttered to life.

There would be a note, I knew. Probably on the counter next to a caramel roll. Mom’s pathetic apology for not following through. It was only Wednesday, so I couldn’t imagine where they’d be going. Maybe Mom had left a note about that, too.

The phone rang.

I jumped up and hurtled downstairs. I rounded the corner at the bottom of the steps and smashed my wrist against the edge of the unfinished wall. I felt a tearing sensation. Blood trickled down my arm.

My head swam.

I couldn’t do blood.

Without looking at it, I grabbed a dishtowel off the stove and pressed it against my wrist. I made my way to the corner and found blood splatters on the gray drywall. The offending nail jutted out where trim would eventually go.

The answering machine kicked in, and a recorded telemarketer tried to consolidate my parents’ credit card debt. I should have known better than to race for the phone. Travis would have called my cell.

I sat on the bottom step and peeled away the blood soaked towel. My shredded wrist bled profusely. It would definitely need stitches. The edges of my world went dark.

Chapter 13

The darkness receded, and I found myself curled in the fetal position on the bottom step, tacky with drying blood. I pushed myself up groggily. Too shaken to go back upstairs for my cell, I called Travis with the landline. When he didn’t answer, I snagged the keys to Mom’s car and wrapped the dishrag tightly around my arm. Dad would be torqued if I bled on the fabric seats. I twisted the key in the ignition, cursing when the engine wouldn’t turn over. I got out and kicked the door.

Back in the bathroom, I unwrapped my wrist, hoping it looked better this time. The wound itself wasn’t deep. Rather, it had ripped a semicircle of flesh, creating a flap that still bled. Band-Aids wouldn’t cut it. Again I called Travis, and again got his voice mail. This time I didn’t leave a message.

I bled into another dish towel and considered my options. With reservation, I punched in Collin’s cell number.

Come on. Pick up, Collin. Pick up. I need you to pick up.

“Collin.”

“It’s Gemi. I uh, need a…are you…?”

Indie prodded me with a whisper.
Spit it out, girl.

“Are you busy right now?” I bonked the receiver against my forehead. Stupid. Stupid. I sounded like I wanted to take him to the prom, not have him escort me to the hospital.

“Actually, yes. I’m extremely busy.” Great. The Collin with a ‘tude.

Play it, girl. Sell it or you’re gonna bleed out in this hell hole
.

I pictured Indie in her get up, thrusting out her hips, pouting her lips. I put as much flirt into my voice as I could muster. “I’m hurt, Collin, and you were the first person I thought to call.”

Even to my own ears, it sounded like a load of crap. But it must have worked because keys rattled in the background and his demeanor changed immediately. “I’ll be right there.”

I gave Collin directions to my house, threw a new rag in my messenger bag and stood in the entry. The carpet roll under the light dusting of snow flashed “white trash” like a neon sign. As soon as his car came into view, I stepped into the snowy cold and locked the door behind me, providing no opportunity for Collin to invite himself in.

I shouldn’t have worried. Despite the fact that I stood on the front step, Collin still honked and waited in the driver’s seat for me to crawl in by myself. His face turned white when he saw the bloody rag. “You’re not going to bleed on the seats are you?”

Schmuck,
Indie crowed in my mind.

Oh shut up. I’m not dating him.

I’ve seen convicts with more compassion.

Angel’s sing-song voice interrupted my fight with Indie.
Treat as be treated. Love as be loved
.

My head pounded. “I promise to only bleed on myself.”

Uncharacteristically Collin, the white of his cheeks turned red. “I didn’t mean that, okay? Just…what happened?”

“I caught my wrist on a nail. We’re kind of in the middle of a remodel project, and the walls at the bottom of the stairs aren’t finished yet.” It was easier to talk than to listen to the voices in my head. I seriously needed some time away from real life. Since Granny died, nothing had gone right. “It probably just needs a few stitches.”

He craned his head to get a better look at our yard on the way down the drive. “Your parents home?”

“Work.”

Collin grunted. “You don’t have to be so rude. I drove all the way out here to pick you up. The least you can do is answer my questions.”

“Sorry. It’s just this thing hurts like heck, and I have a nasty headache.”

“It’s stress.”

“Is that straight out of a textbook, Dr. Psychology? Or from years of professional experience?”

“You laugh, but the mysteries of the mind are fascinating. They can cause all sorts of strange phenomena.”

“So does having your arm ripped off.”

“Like exaggerating circumstances. And for your information, I do have years of practice already under my belt.” Sliminess dripped off his words, and he shot me a coy look. “Where’s your sidekick?”

Why did I ever think this was a good idea?
“You mean Travis?”

Collin shrugged. “Sure.”

“We’re just friends.” The pulse in my temple picked up.

“I wouldn’t call it just friends. The guy has the hots for you.”

The last thing I needed was to get into my relationship with Travis and the fact that he hated me so much he wouldn’t take my call. I snorted.

Collin took that as my answer. “You don’t believe me? He leaves a trail of drool when he follows you.”

“Would you feel better if I told you we’re not talking?”

Collin nodded. “Would you feel better if we went out for dinner and a movie?”

Ugh.

You owe him. Besides, he’s cute.

Get out of my head, Indie.
I forced a smile. “When?”

“How about let’s see what the doc says.” He reached over and touched my injured wrist, then dropped his hand to my thigh.

Smooth.

Shut up, Brutus.

I nearly laughed out loud. At least Travis was honest about his intentions. He’d never played the yawn, stretch, drop the arm over the shoulder game.

And look where that got you. All those lies. All those hidden secrets.
I almost missed Luna’s comment, her voice was so soft. Yet, above all the other thoughts flitting through my head, this one meant something. Trying to hold onto it, I repeated her words over and over again.

Indie interrupted.
Lighten up, Gemi. Collin digs you, and he’s a real man.

Too drained to protest, I let Collin’s hand stay.

By the time we left the ER, I had sixteen stitches, a warning to be more careful and Collin’s hand permanently attached to some part of my body. I also had a date for later that night if the weather held.

Collin dropped me off at the end of the drive so I could check the mail. Envelopes—how many weeks’ worth?—spilled out. I juggled them in my good hand and made my way to the house over the fresh snow.

I dropped the mail on the kitchen table. It splayed out, and a yellow envelope beckoned. I’d seen plenty in my life and groaned, wondering which bill I had forgotten to pay, which service would be disconnected next. Take that back, there were two. Cable and phone if I didn’t make a payment by four today.

I could handle that. I didn’t watch television, and I had my own cell phone. Without TV my dad and Mom would spend more time in the casino for entertainment, actually making my life a little better. I welcomed this disconnect.

If I weren’t so afraid of being truly alone, I’d move out and into Granny’s. It would certainly be more pleasant than cleaning up after my parents and fixing their messes.

After scrubbing up my blood, I washed some laundry and straightened the kitchen before winding my way back to the computer. In the wake of my accident, I’d forgotten all about my conversation with James. Now, in the early evening dusk, Luna’s threat didn’t seem quite as terrifying. After all, I’d never told anyone where I was from. As far as the Dozen knew, I could be in California or Africa. Only after booting up the computer did I remember our cable had been shut off, and with it, our internet. Luna would have to wait.

I headed upstairs with a pile of clean jeans and sweatshirts.

Before I made it to my room, the hair on the back of my neck stood up. The stench of urine overpowered me. I pushed open the door. Clothes littered every surface. My birthday books were shredded and wet. An unfamiliar black T-shirt draped over my pillow like a death garment. When I picked it up, my hands came away red with semi-dried blood.

Okay, so maybe Luna wasn’t so benign after all. With shaking hands, I snatched a duffel bag and filled it with clothes, not looking to see what they were. Not caring. I tore down the stairs, checking over my shoulder as I went. In the entry, I stuffed my feet into winter boots and pulled on my jacket. I scrounged around for a hat before remembering mine was still in my dad’s car along with my mittens. I settled for the gaudy turkey hat. In the few hours since Collin dropped me off, the wind had picked up. Blowing snow filled in my tracks on the driveway.

I turned on my phone to call Collin to let him know I’d be ready early.

My screen blinked. Thirty-seven texts from a restricted number. I scrolled through them.

We need to talk.

Where are you?

I need your help.

Why won’t you listen to me?

I’m going to hurt myself.

I want to die.

Where are you?

Please call me.

Help me.

I hate you.

If you don’t call me back I’ll hurt myself.

I’ve overdosed on pills.

I’m dying.

Please, please, please call me.

I was just kidding. I don’t do drugs.

I have a knife.

Where are you?

I’m coming for you.

Bile rose in my throat, and I punched in Collin’s number—tried to keep the panic out of my voice—and told him he could pick me up now. I waited, ready to run out the door when he got there, and read the last few texts.

I just slit my wrist. You’re to blame.

If I don’t die, you will.

I know where you are.

Chapter 14

Fear prickled my scalp. I snatched my bag and bolted outside to meet Collin at the end of the gravel road. Even in the dark, I preferred walking the mile to waiting around for Luna’s attack.

I pulled my hood tight against my chin and plowed through the building drifts. The wind howled and whipped snow in my face, obscuring my vision.

My phone vibrated in my jeans pocket. I fumbled it out with my left hand, leaving my injured one in my jacket to stay warm. No use ripping open my wound and leaving a trail of blood for Luna to follow.