TWENTY-FOUR

Real life smacks me in the face as soon as I leave my bedroom. Sierra’s door is closed but Mom’s working in the office with her small television on. More about Clara. It’s been four days now and the doctors still can’t give a solid answer on whether or not she’ll live to tomorrow, much less the next fifty years.

Her parents have managed to come out of her room and make brief statements and every station just plays the clips over and over. Thanking people for their support, a call to find the monster that did this to their daughter.

Am I that monster, at least partly?

I tried to protect her from as much of her attack as possible, but I know I could have done more.

But then, what would the cost have been? Another kill I wouldn’t have gotten a vision of, like Eddie? And what if I had ignored the vision entirely? Clara would be dead. But I hate that I made that decision for her.

I’m not sure I can survive another day cooped up in this house with the television constantly reminding me of what I’ve done. What good is it to have power over the future when the tragedy is in the past? I wish I could just go back to bed and sleep the day away, but even I can only sleep so much.

I manage to pass the hours by playing my new Harvest Moon game, attempting to reread my favorite book, and taking one short nap. It’s the first time in my life I wish I had homework. I’m considering working ahead in my trig book just to numb my brain.

Finally it’s about time for Linden to arrive and I get nervous, hoping I haven’t ruined things by already living a version of what tonight could have been. I chide myself for being silly—real life is always better than dreams; it’s like books and movies. But even so, I pick different clothes from what I was wearing on the supernatural plane last night.

Just to prove that I can.

The weird sense of déjà vu doesn’t bother me when Linden walks in with the exact food he had last night, and especially not when it’s just as good in real life. My aunt joins us and I make those introductions.

That’s a change too. It was just the three of us in my dream last night. I try not to read any meaning into that, but I can’t help but wonder if she’s watching me.

If somehow she was watching me last night.

I don’t know how that would even be possible. But I’m starting to question every tiny thing.

Sierra sits silently at one end of the table while Linden keeps us all cheerful with new jokes and stories we haven’t all heard multiple times. I’d never before considered that the life of three single people all trapped living together might be a little, well, boring, but after the light and energy that Linden has brought to our table tonight, I wonder what it will take to make the house not feel empty.

As soon as the food is gone, Sierra excuses herself with a murmur and a quick grin, and Mom pleads a backup of work. With a significant glance in my direction, she declares that she will retire to her office instead of joining us for the movie. With zero adult supervision, there’s a chance that tonight’s reality might come close to the excitement of last night’s dream sequence.

Close. Surely I’m not quite as brave as I was last night in my own head.

We go through my DVD collection, debating the merits of this movie or that, but the looks we exchange make me pretty sure neither of us is going to actually watch much of whatever show we pick. We settle on The Princess Bride—nothing like a classic—and proceed to get rather busy not watching the movie.

“I’ve missed you so much,” Linden says, the tip of his nose running along the edge of my earlobe and sending a massive shiver of pleasure down my spine. “You must be going crazy cooped up here all day, every day.”

“Pretty much,” I whisper back as steadily as I can. For probably the hundredth time, I marvel at how odd it is that the best and worst things that have ever happened in my life are happening simultaneously.

But tonight I push everything else aside and just let myself be with Linden. To love the feel of his hands as they explore my body and the whisper of his lips on my skin, in my hair, and of course, on my lips. Despite the supernatural life I live, and the isolation that I know lies in wait for me in the future, this experience is so fresh and new I feel like a little kid.

The movie is almost over and my nerves are thoroughly, though pleasantly, exhausted when a tinny chime peals through the den. Linden pulls out his phone and the screen illuminates his face in the darkness.

“It’s my parents,” Linden says. “Time for Mr. Bodyguard to bring me home.” The alarm bells start to sound very softly in the back of my head as he nestles his lips against my neck. “I’d rather stay here.” His lips find mine, but I can hardly respond as he kisses me. I mean, I knew the scene I was in last night was a possible future, and it’s followed fairly closely tonight. But the word-for-word dialogue is a little disconcerting.

I laugh inwardly at my paranoia. It doesn’t have to be that way. It was just a dream vision, and I don’t have to play my part. So I try not to speak, to hold my mouth shut, but the words tumble out anyway. “I’ll walk you out to the car.”

Wait. No. This isn’t right. I should still have a choice.

“No.” Linden says, just like last night. “The guy will come to the door. I don’t want you exposed to danger for even a second.”

I look up into his face and again, I fight to hold my mouth closed. I don’t need to ask him this. I don’t have to. “Are you afraid?”