The Man in the Box (The Box book 1) Page 17

  Chapter Seventeen

  Noise. Loud. A scream maybe? I don’t know. Nothing feels right. I don’t... I can’t...

  I struggle to move. Sit or stand. But maybe I already am sitting. I should try standing. My body twitches more violently than I expect and I smash what I think is my own hand against my face.

  “Ow,” I say. At least I think it’s my voice. I try again. “That hurt.”

  Yup. Definitely my voice. But where am I? And why is it so dark? There must be something covering my eyes. The world never goes this dark naturally. There has to be something over my... nothing. My face feels so odd, though not because it’s covered in a damp layer of sweat. I’m used to that. After all, it’s not like dancing is easy.

  Dance! My rehersal. I’d missed it, hadn’t I? This is probably some sort of practical joke the others are playing on me, some way of getting back at me for slacking and missing something so important.

  So then why does my skin feel so odd? Had they covered it in something? Sparkles? Those never come off.

  But I know what sparkles feel like. And face paint and cloth. This seems to be something deeper. Something I’ve felt before, but can’t quite remember...

  “Rose! What’s wrong, Rose?”

  That voice. Who...

  “Lou! Oh shit, Lou. Can you hear me? Please say something.”

  There’s no mistaking her voice. “Cindy. What’ve you done?”

  At first I have no idea what’s happening as her arms wrap around me, so I pull away. But then when I realize she’s hugging me, I struggle harder to get free.

  “Are you stoned?” I ask. Not an unreasonable question, since it’s happened before. “Get off me. Mom’s going to be pissed when she finds out.”

  She laughs. “What? Lou. Are you all right? Tell me you’re fine. What do you remember?”

  My hands go back to my face and I rub my aching eyes. The pain feels wrong somehow, like it doesn’t really exist, it’s more a memory of a pain I once had. I switch to my hair instead. It’s the only normal feeling part of me, though there’s still some of the same oddness I feel from my skin. Plus it’s greasier and messier than usual, which makes me think I must be at a rehearsal. Or maybe a Taekwondo class.

  “Lou?” Cindy doesn’t sound nearly as weirdly excited as she before. “What’s wrong?”

  “What’s wrong is you’ve made it way too dark in here. Where are we anyway?”

  “Dark?”

  A large callused hand lightly grips my chin and turns my head to the left, and then a bit to the right. Something about the touch feels familiar, but like the feeling of my own skin, it’s not right either. It’s...

  “Lou?” the owner of the hand says in a gentle, calming voice. My memories ache as I try to remember where I’ve heard him before. “I need you to look at me.”

  I shake my head a little, not able to speak. Yet, why wasn’t I freaking out? Why wasn’t I pulling away or blushing or saying something idiotic to this stranger?

  The realization hits me in slow waves as I start to remember. The box. The drive. People chasing us. Gran’s house. And...

  “Al?” My voice cracks. I swallow and start again. “Is it you?”

  He sighs deeply and releases my chin, which is about the worst thing he could possibly do. Nothing’s working properly, not my limbs, not my lungs, and definitely not my eyes. And now I’m completely alone.

  I try again to scramble to my feet, this time with a little more success. But only a little. My legs get caught in some sort of rough fabric—a blanket?—and when I move, I end up tumbling gracelessly off whatever it is I’m sitting on.

  It must not occur as fast in real life as it does in my head, or Al has quick reflexes. He grabs me before I hit the floor and holds me steady. My panic at the feeling of my trapped legs fades as he loosens the fabric binding me.

  He shifts layers of material aside until his hand touches my skin. His fingers linger on my ankle for a moment, the strange energy pulsing from him racing up my leg. When he pulls away, my body once again moves on its own, this time drawn by the heat passing between us until I press my leg to his side.

  It’s not until I hear a cough I realize I’m so absorbed in the feeling of his skin I’ve practically wrapped my leg around him.

  “Put her back on the bed,” Cindy says.

  There’s no hesitation from Al as he lifts me up and sets me on the mattress. The moment I’m down, he steps away and the comfort of whatever I felt from him disappears.

  I don’t understand his need to get away from me, and I wish he’d come back. Without him near, everything is confusing again. I desperately attempt to rub the sight back into my eyes. I need to be able to see. Why can’t I see?

  “What’s wrong with her?” Cindy says.

  “Give her a minute. She’s just woken up.”

  Something about the way he speaks makes me realize it’s more than a normal sleep I’ve woken from. Though I’m pretty sure it’s a bed I was struggling to rise from, it’s also not one I recognize. It could be one in Gran’s house, but I don’t...

  “Oh,” I say aloud.

  They caught up to us. I remember now. Stewart and Borin caught up. We tried to run, but then Stewart... so much pain.

  “He stole my magic.” My voice trembles with unshed tears. “He ripped it from me. I thought I was going to die.”

  “I’m sorry,” Al says. “I couldn’t stop it.”

  His words feel wrong. Like he’s not talking to me, but to someone else entirely.

  “This is insane,” an unfamiliar girl says.

  Stomping follows a few seconds later.

  “Rose, wait!” Al calls to the girl.

  More footsteps follow.

  “Cindy?” I ask. She can’t have left. Why is everyone leaving me? “Are you still here?”

  As soon as I say the words, I realize she must be. There’s an unusual sense of something making my skin itch, coming from a little further over on the bed. It makes me feel uneasy, similar to the dust she carries around.

  “You really can’t see, can you?” Cindy asks.

  The tears I’ve been holding back come pouring out in sobs and gasps. I’ve never had my emotions rip through me as hard as the tears do. They seem to be never ending, causing complete exhaustion.

  At first as I cry, Cindy tries patting or rubbing my shoulder, but it doesn’t help. I want to stop, I do, but I can’t remember how. All I can remember is the pain and Stewart lowering his lips to mine.

  The image won’t fade and I can’t open my eyes to replace it with something else. Anything else.

  I think Cindy tries to speak at first. Maybe explain what’s happened since Stewart stole my magic. I don’t hear her. I can’t concentrate on her voice. The only thing I can think of is the never-ending darkness. I need to open my eyes. I need to be able to see.

  I have no idea how long I cry, though I’d guess hours. There are bits of noise, whispered conversations, footsteps, and doors shutting. I drift in and out of consciousness until I slowly emerge from the fog surrounding my mind since waking.

  “How is she doing?” an older woman’s voice asks from what I can only assume is the doorway.

  I don’t make any sign of having heard her. She’s not talking to me after all.

  “She’s...” Cindy starts and then stops. “I have no idea. She’s not talking. She stopped sobbing, which is probably good.”

  “Think she can handle some food?”

  As soon as she says it, my stomach makes a loud grumbling sound, clearly giving me away.

  I slowly sit up, wiping my face with the back of my hands with little effect. My skin is still soaked, and worse, it still feels wrong.

  “I could eat,” I say shyly. “But I wouldn’t mind cleaning up first.”

  “Of course, dear. The washroom is over there.”

  I know she’s showing me which way to go rather than telling me, but I try not to get too upset. Every time I blink, I expect the darkness to f
ade away, so it’s no surprise she hasn’t gotten used to the situation yet either. At least the tears are minimal.

  “I guess I’ll help you,” Cindy says, a little unsure of herself. “Come on.”

  After washing up with Cindy awkwardly lending a hand, she leads me to some other part of the house and sits me down at a table.

  “This is her?” A deep man’s voice booms. Instantly I picture an older man, maybe somewhere close to middle age. From his accent, I know he’s from the same area as Al. “The girl you chose to save over your own sister?”

  “Father,” Al says. “Leave it.”

  “Your sister?” I feel immediately guilty, though I don’t fully understand what’s happening. “She’s here?”

  “Did Sin not tell you where you are?” Al asks. I shake my head in response. “You’re in my world. In my parents’ house.”

  Maybe I should be surprised, but I’m too drained to feel anything more than mild interest.

  “Oh.”

  There’s a clatter on the table in front of me as someone sets down an object. Timidly, I reach forward to find a bowl first and then a spoon set next to it.

  “I hope you like chicken stew,” the older woman says.

  Al already identified his father, so I assume she must be his mother. For some weird reason, the realization causes my nerves to kick into high gear. It’s almost as bad as when I am about to go on stage.

  “Thank you,” I say suddenly, almost shouting the words rather than speaking them. I clear my throat. “For the food, I mean. And I guess for having me here. I hope I haven’t been too much trouble.”

  There seems to be a slight lessening of the tension I hadn’t noticed when I first entered the room.

  “Oh,” Al’s mother stammers. “No, not any trouble. Try to eat up.”

  I obediently scoop up some food and manage to not completely miss my mouth. The taste of chicken is so intense and delicious, I can’t help but smile.

  “What did you tell Mom?” I ask Cindy. Silence. Was she in the room? “Cindy?”

  “I was busy.”

  I nearly choke on my second spoonful of food. “You didn’t call Mom?”

  “You were mostly dead. I was figuring out how to bring you back.”

  My voice rises along with my shock toward my sister. “You couldn’t find five minutes to call Mom and let her know we’re still alive? Never mind the fact her boyfriend’s a psychopathic lunatic who sucked the life out of me and he could easily be going after her next. Don’t bother warning her though.”

  “Relax,” she groans. “Mom’s not a sorceress. He’s got no reason to ever go back there. Besides, what was I going to say? I couldn’t tell her everything’s fine with you lying in a coma in a different world.”

  “You never think about anyone but yourself,” I say. I push my chair back and stand up, ready to start pacing until I realize what a bad idea it is. “She’s called the cops by now. They’ve probably issued an amber alert and everyone will be looking for us. They’ll find the car and we won’t be there and she’ll be so worried.”

  “You’re so over dramatic. We’ve only been gone a couple of days.”

  “Do you have any way of contacting her?” Al’s mother asks. “I’m sure she would appreciate hearing from you. I know what it’s like to have a child disappear with no warning.”

  “I told you it wasn’t my fault,” Al says.

  I hide my smile as I imagine the look she’s giving Al.

  “Whether that’s the case or not, you should let her know you’re okay, if you can.” His mother timidly pats my shoulder, but pulls away when she realizes she’s not able to offer any real comfort.

  “Is my purse here?” I ask. “I’m going to call her.”

  Cindy snorts. “Good luck. We’re in a different world, remember? No satellites. No bars. No phoning home.”

  My shoulders drop as I realize the truth of what she’s saying. There’s nothing I can do. Not as long as I stay here.

  “Then, we’ll have to go back. Right now.”

  “Are you kidding?” Cindy laughs again. “We’re in another world. You hear me? There’s no way I’m leaving here without exploring a bit. I saw a griffin. A griffin! Imagine all of the magic I could find here.”

  “You could try magic,” Al says. “If you’re able to use it, you should be able to communicate between worlds.”

  “No,” his father says firmly. “No magic allowed in this house. It’s brought nothing but pain and I won’t have any more of it.”

  “Agreed,” Cindy agrees way too easily. “No magic in this house. Guess I’m going out for a bit. Don’t get yourself killed, ‘kay sis?”

  “You’re leaving?” I don’t mean to sound desperate, but I already feel so alone. If she leaves, how will I find my way back to the bedroom?

  “I’ll be back.”

  “You can’t go out there alone,” Al says. “You don’t know anything about this place or what to avoid. I’ll go with you.”

  Al’s leaving too. I really am going to be alone in a house full of strangers.

  “Whatever,” Cindy says from a bit farther away than she was a few seconds earlier. “Come with me or not, but I’m leaving now.”

  “Lou?” My head snaps up when he says my name. I hope I don’t look too pathetic. “Feeling up for a walk?”

  “I’ll slow you down,” I remind him.

  “Well, see ya then,” Cindy says and then pauses. “Or, uh, you know what I mean.”

  There’s the sound of a door opening and thudding shut and I know Cindy’s already gone. My stomach sinks as I realize Al doesn’t have a choice but to run out after her. He can’t waste time leading around the blind girl.

  A hand touches my shoulder. “Come on, I’ll help with your shoes.”