My Soul to Take
Page 10
- Background:
- Text Font:
- Text Size:
- Line Height:
- Line Break Height:
- Frame:
You said youve had these premonitions before?
Just a few times.
Have any of them ever come true?
I shook my head, then shrugged and picked up a napkin-wrapped bundle of silverware to have something to do with my hands. Not that I know of.
But you only know about this one because it was on the news, right? I nodded without looking up, and he continued. So the others could have come true too, and you might never have known about it.
I guess. But if that were the case, I wasnt sure I wanted to know about it.
When I drew my focus from the napkin Id half peeled from the knife and fork, I found him watching me intently, as if my every word might mean something important. His lips were pressed firmly together, his forehead wrinkled in concentration.
I shifted on the vinyl-padded bench, uneasy under such scrutiny. Now he probably really thought I was a freak. A girl who thinks she knows when someones going to diethat might be interesting in certain circles; it definitely presented a certain morbid cachet.
But a girl who really could predict death? That was just scary.
Nash frowned, and his focus shifted back and forth between my eyes, like he was looking for something specific. Kaylee, do you know why this is happening? What it means?
My heart thumped painfully, and I clutched the shredded napkin. How do you know it means anything?
Idont. He sighed and leaned back in the booth, dropping his gaze to the table as he picked up a mini-jar of strawberry preserves from the jelly carousel. But dont you think it should mean something? I mean, were not talking about lottery numbers and horse-race winners. Dont you want to know why you can do this? Or what the limits are? Or
No. I looked up sharply, irritated by the familiar, sick dread settling into my stomach, killing what little appetite Id managed to hold on to. I dont want to know why or how. All I want to know is how to make it stop.
Nash leaned forward again, pinning me with a gaze so intense, so thoroughly invasive, that I caught my breath. What if you cant?
My mood darkened at the very thought. I shook my head, denying the possibility.
He glanced down at the jelly again, spinning it on the table, and when he looked back up, his gaze had gone soft. Sympathetic. Kaylee, you need help with this.
My eyes narrowed and a spike of anger and betrayal shot through me. You think I need counseling? Each breath came faster than the last as I fought off memories of brightly colored scrubs, and needles and padded wrist restraints. Im not crazy. I stood and dropped the knife on the table, but when I tried to march past him, his hand wrapped firmly around my wrist and he twisted to look up at me.
Kaylee, wait, thats not what I
Let go. I wanted to tug my arm free, but I was afraid that if he didnt let go, Id lose it. Four-point restraints or an unyielding hand, it was all the same if I couldnt get free. Panic clawed slowly up from my gut as I struggled not to pull against his grip. My chest constricted, and I went stiff in my desperation to stay calm.
People are looking he whispered urgently.
Then let me go. Each breath came short and fast now, and sweat gathered in the crooks of my elbows. Please.
He let go.
I exhaled, and my eyes closed as sluggish relief sifted through me. But I couldnt make myself move. Not yet. Not without running.
When I realized I was rubbing my wrist, I clenched my hands into fists until my nails cut into my palms. Distantly, I noticed that the restaurant had gone quiet around us.
Kaylee, please sit down. Thats not what I meant. His voice was soft. Soothing.
My hands began to relax, and I inhaled deeply.
Please, he repeated, and it took every bit of self-control I had to make myself back up and sink onto the padded bench.
With my hands in my lap.
We sat in silence until conversation picked up around us, me staring at the table, him staring at me, if I had to guess.
Are you okay? he asked finally, as the waitress set food on the table behind me, and I felt the tension in my shoulders ease as I leaned against the wooden back of the booth.
I dont need a doctor. I made myself look up, ready to stand firm against his argument to the contrary. But it never came.
He sighed, a sound heavy with reluctance. I know. You need to tell your aunt and uncle.
Nash
They might be able to help you, Kaylee. You have to tell someone
They know, okay? I glanced at the table to find that my fingers were tearing the shredded napkin into even smaller pieces. Shoving them to the side, I met Nashs gaze, suddenly, recklessly determined to tell him the truth. How much worse could he possibly think of me?
Last time this happened, I freaked out and started screaming. And I couldnt stop. They put me in the hospital, and strapped me to a bed, and shot me full of drugs, and didnt let me out until we all agreed that Id gotten over my delusions and hysteria and wouldnt need to talk about them anymore. Okay? So I dont think telling them is going to do much good, unless I want to spend fall break in the mental-health unit.
Nash blinked, and in the span of a single second, his expression cycled through disbelief, disgust, and outrage before finally settling on fury, his brows low, arms bulging, like he wanted to hit something.
Just a few times.
Have any of them ever come true?
I shook my head, then shrugged and picked up a napkin-wrapped bundle of silverware to have something to do with my hands. Not that I know of.
But you only know about this one because it was on the news, right? I nodded without looking up, and he continued. So the others could have come true too, and you might never have known about it.
I guess. But if that were the case, I wasnt sure I wanted to know about it.
When I drew my focus from the napkin Id half peeled from the knife and fork, I found him watching me intently, as if my every word might mean something important. His lips were pressed firmly together, his forehead wrinkled in concentration.
I shifted on the vinyl-padded bench, uneasy under such scrutiny. Now he probably really thought I was a freak. A girl who thinks she knows when someones going to diethat might be interesting in certain circles; it definitely presented a certain morbid cachet.
But a girl who really could predict death? That was just scary.
Nash frowned, and his focus shifted back and forth between my eyes, like he was looking for something specific. Kaylee, do you know why this is happening? What it means?
My heart thumped painfully, and I clutched the shredded napkin. How do you know it means anything?
Idont. He sighed and leaned back in the booth, dropping his gaze to the table as he picked up a mini-jar of strawberry preserves from the jelly carousel. But dont you think it should mean something? I mean, were not talking about lottery numbers and horse-race winners. Dont you want to know why you can do this? Or what the limits are? Or
No. I looked up sharply, irritated by the familiar, sick dread settling into my stomach, killing what little appetite Id managed to hold on to. I dont want to know why or how. All I want to know is how to make it stop.
Nash leaned forward again, pinning me with a gaze so intense, so thoroughly invasive, that I caught my breath. What if you cant?
My mood darkened at the very thought. I shook my head, denying the possibility.
He glanced down at the jelly again, spinning it on the table, and when he looked back up, his gaze had gone soft. Sympathetic. Kaylee, you need help with this.
My eyes narrowed and a spike of anger and betrayal shot through me. You think I need counseling? Each breath came faster than the last as I fought off memories of brightly colored scrubs, and needles and padded wrist restraints. Im not crazy. I stood and dropped the knife on the table, but when I tried to march past him, his hand wrapped firmly around my wrist and he twisted to look up at me.
Kaylee, wait, thats not what I
Let go. I wanted to tug my arm free, but I was afraid that if he didnt let go, Id lose it. Four-point restraints or an unyielding hand, it was all the same if I couldnt get free. Panic clawed slowly up from my gut as I struggled not to pull against his grip. My chest constricted, and I went stiff in my desperation to stay calm.
People are looking he whispered urgently.
Then let me go. Each breath came short and fast now, and sweat gathered in the crooks of my elbows. Please.
He let go.
I exhaled, and my eyes closed as sluggish relief sifted through me. But I couldnt make myself move. Not yet. Not without running.
When I realized I was rubbing my wrist, I clenched my hands into fists until my nails cut into my palms. Distantly, I noticed that the restaurant had gone quiet around us.
Kaylee, please sit down. Thats not what I meant. His voice was soft. Soothing.
My hands began to relax, and I inhaled deeply.
Please, he repeated, and it took every bit of self-control I had to make myself back up and sink onto the padded bench.
With my hands in my lap.
We sat in silence until conversation picked up around us, me staring at the table, him staring at me, if I had to guess.
Are you okay? he asked finally, as the waitress set food on the table behind me, and I felt the tension in my shoulders ease as I leaned against the wooden back of the booth.
I dont need a doctor. I made myself look up, ready to stand firm against his argument to the contrary. But it never came.
He sighed, a sound heavy with reluctance. I know. You need to tell your aunt and uncle.
Nash
They might be able to help you, Kaylee. You have to tell someone
They know, okay? I glanced at the table to find that my fingers were tearing the shredded napkin into even smaller pieces. Shoving them to the side, I met Nashs gaze, suddenly, recklessly determined to tell him the truth. How much worse could he possibly think of me?
Last time this happened, I freaked out and started screaming. And I couldnt stop. They put me in the hospital, and strapped me to a bed, and shot me full of drugs, and didnt let me out until we all agreed that Id gotten over my delusions and hysteria and wouldnt need to talk about them anymore. Okay? So I dont think telling them is going to do much good, unless I want to spend fall break in the mental-health unit.
Nash blinked, and in the span of a single second, his expression cycled through disbelief, disgust, and outrage before finally settling on fury, his brows low, arms bulging, like he wanted to hit something.
