Page 14
TREY
My eyes flutter open. An IV is taped to my arm. It’s hooked up to a bag of fluids hanging above me. I glance around and conclude that I’m in a hospital room. It sure smells like it.
My mind feels groggy. My body feels like I fell off a building. Maybe I did, because my right arm is in a cast. I want to sit up, but when I try to lift my head, it feels weighed down by sand.
Liz is sitting in a chair by the window, reading a book while munching on some pretzels.
“How long have I been here?” I ask.
My question makes Liz set her book and pretzels onto a rollable table, then pop out of her chair. Her shoes click against the floor as she drags her chair closer to my bed.
Once she’s settled back down, she offers me a warm smile. “Hey, T-Bear. You’ve only been here for a night.”
“Did I get a zoctor?”
“A doctor, but your hospitalization wasn’t Zordi-related, so anyone could have treated you. After they discharge you, we can take a trip to Chinatown so you can see a Healer.”
“That sounds good.” With a few bottles of Healing Water, my arm will be fixed within days. With a Healer, it’ll take five minutes, tops.
“How ya feelin’?”
Physically or emotionally? My answer is the same either way, so I say, “Shitty.”
“As expected. You were hit by a truck, after all.”
“A truck?”
“You don’t remember that?”
The last thing I remember is the woman who looks like Arella rushing out to me from her apartment. She asked me about my missing stab wound. The next things I remember are bright lights and people shouting. That’s about it.
“Liz.” My voice comes out scratchy. “She remembered me.”
“Huh?”
“It was only for a few minutes, but she remembered me.” I go into the whole story. The entire time, Liz listens without a single interruption. Once I finish, I say, “I wish I knew what caused her mind to flip to remembering me, then back to forgetting me.”
“Do you think that happens with everyone who gets scrubbed, or just her because she’s immune?”
“If I had to guess, I’ma say it’s just her.”
A heavy cloud of anxiety floats toward me from Liz. She chews on her bottom lip as she picks at her fingernails.
I eye her, wishing I was a Mind Reader instead of an Empath. “What?”
“Oh, nothing.” She waves a nonchalant ungloved hand through the air. “We can talk later. For now, let’s just focus on getting you to full health.”
“No. I want to talk now.”
She hesitates. “Are you sure you’re ready to have a serious conversation?”
“Yes,” I lie.
With a long sigh, she leans in closer to me.
“T, you’ve barely been eating, and you’re always staring off into the distance with this blank look in your eyes.
Getting you to come to band rehearsal is a battle, and whenever you perform, it’s so robotic.
At least you show up willingly to our writing sessions, but everything you write is so dark and depressing. ”
That’s a very long-winded way of saying, T, you’ve been miserable . “How ’bout you stop sugarcoating what you’re trying to say and just give it to me straight?”
“Okay, fine. When I got the call about you being at the ER and they told me what happened, I couldn’t help thinking maybe.
.. I dunno. Look, I don’t want to accuse you of anything, but I don’t want to assume either.
Because you’ve been feeling so wrecked, I wasn’t sure if—” She sucks in a deep breath and blows it out.
I’d make this easier for her, but I’m not sure what she’s trying to get at.
“T, they told me you rode your bike straight into oncoming traffic.”
Ah, I see now. “You want to know if I did that on purpose?”
“Yes. That’s exactly what I want to know.”
“I didn’t,” I say without hesitation.
Liz clasps a hand over her heart. “Oh, good. I was so worried that was the case. What made you lose control of your bike, then?”
My answer comes easily. Saying it out loud is harder. “I—” I clear my throat. “I, um, was having a panic attack.”
“What?”
“You know, they’re these moments when my heart races and I feel like I can’t breathe, or move, or think, or anything. And whenever it gets really bad, my powers go haywire.”
“I know what panic attacks are. I just didn’t realize you got them, but I guess that makes sense. You’ve been through a lot of trauma.”
With the arm that isn’t in a cast, I drag the blanket draped over me a little higher up my chest. “I used to get them a lot when I was a kid. I thought I grew out of it, but I guess not.”
“Did something happen to trigger this one?”
I swallow like there’s something stuck in my throat. Knowing what triggered the panic attack is one thing; admitting it to someone is another.
Liz waits patiently while I gather my words.
“After she reverted to forgetting me, I came to the conclusion that my Arella is gone. Without her memories of me, that woman is nothing more than a woman who looks like her. Coming to that realization hit me hard.”
I choke up, holding back a wave of tears.
“Even now, there’s still a part of me that wants to pursue my original plan of getting her to remember me.
Obviously, she’s still in there somewhere, but I don’t know how to draw her out.
I’m not even sure if it’s possible to do so permanently, and everything I’m doing is only scaring away the woman who goes by Ari. ”
Liz goes quiet as she takes that all in. After what feels like a long time, she says, “So if you’re not going to pursue her anymore, what are you going to do instead?”
A thunderstorm of pain crashes through me like it probably did when I ran into that truck. The only difference is that I’ll remember this agony. I lose my voice as I whisper, “I have to let her go.”
Liz offers me a sympathetic smile. “I’m glad you came to that decision without me having to tell you.”
I eye her through slits. “How long have you known that was my only option?”
“I figured it out while I was sitting in your car outside the z-prison, waiting for you to be done talking to that Keeper.”
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
“Because you suck at listening to me. You would have fought me on it, and you would have done what you did anyway.”
She’s right—as always.
“I dunno how I’m gonna do it, Liz. I’ve spent the last three weeks trying to stay away from her while I figure out a new plan to get her back. The entire time, I’ve been dying inside. She’s all I think about. She’s all I care about. She’s all I want. How am I supposed to go on like this?”
Table of Contents
- Page 1
- Page 2
- Page 3
- Page 4
- Page 5
- Page 6
- Page 7
- Page 8
- Page 9
- Page 10
- Page 11
- Page 12
- Page 13
- Page 14 (Reading here)
- Page 15
- Page 16
- Page 17
- Page 18
- Page 19
- Page 20
- Page 21
- Page 22
- Page 23
- Page 24
- Page 25
- Page 26
- Page 27
- Page 28
- Page 29
- Page 30
- Page 31
- Page 32
- Page 33
- Page 34
- Page 35
- Page 36
- Page 37
- Page 38
- Page 39
- Page 40
- Page 41
- Page 42
- Page 43
- Page 44
- Page 45
- Page 46
- Page 47
- Page 48
- Page 49
- Page 50
- Page 51
- Page 52
- Page 53
- Page 54
- Page 55
- Page 56
- Page 57
- Page 58
- Page 59
- Page 60
- Page 61
- Page 62
- Page 63