The Soul's Mark: FOUND

Page 20

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Something was wrong. Amelia could feel it deep in her bones. Her bed was moving. No, not moving. It sagged. Someone was in her bed. She jumped awake and opened her eyes. Too fast. It was way too fast, the room moved around in circles and she clamped her eyes shut. She could hear the covers rustling and someone touched her hand. Open your eyes, she thought. You need to open your eyes. It seemed to take forever and she thought she would never be able to pry them open again. A tangy, sweet scent drifted to her nose and as if she could not control it, her eyes fluttered open. “Mitch,” she groaned. “Why can’t you just let me sleep?”
“How are you feeling, love?” He looked rumpled and tired. He was in a suit and it looked as if he had been hit by a truck.
Amelia closed her eyes again, relaxing back in bed. “Drunk and sore,” she whined, “I don’t want to be drunk anymore.”
“I know.” He scooted over and gently pulled her into his arms. Amelia snuggled into the hollow of his neck. Tears stung her eyes, prickling like bee stings. If the room would just stop moving everything would be okay, she was sure of it.
“I don’t want to love you any more either,” she choked out through the tears. “Why won’t you just stay out of my dreams?”
“You’re not dreaming, love.” He kissed her lightly on the forehead. His lips felt warm, and she sighed. “I’m sorry, Amelia. Please forgive me.” He sounded so sad. Sad and lonely.
She peered up at him, not understanding. Why was he sad? Why was he sorry? What had he done? And did it even matter? He wasn’t even real. “Forgive what?”
“You’ve left me no other choice, love,” he murmured and brushed her hair back, trailing his fingers lightly down her neck. “Remember that I love you. Please, just remember that.” He closed his eyes for a long second, and when they opened, Amelia gasped. They were no longer blue and heavenly, but tinted with streaks of red.
Amelia squeezed her eyes shut. It’s just a dream. You’re drunk. It’s not real. He’s not real. Suddenly, there was a sharp pain, like two little needles jabbing into her neck, breaking the skin. She gasped. The pain grew, burning, hot, like scalding water. It was her birthmark. It was on fire. She tried to reach up her hand to stop the burning, but her hands were stuck. Not stuck… restrained… He was holding her wrists.
Just as fast as it started, the fire stopped and her body tingled. A warm floating sensation engulfed her. Was she dying? Was this it? The end? There was something else. She could feel it. A connection. A link. A chain. Yes, that was it. A chain, tethering itself around her heart, gently tugging her closer, closer. Closer to what? She needed to get closer, she knew that, but to what? An uncontrollable need to get closer to him. To Mitchell. The room was still spinning too fast, and it hit her. If she could get closer, he could make it all stop. He would help her.
Amelia tried to get closer but her body wouldn’t move. She tried to speak but the hard lump in her throat trapped the sound, pushing it down. Her hands were cold, and the spinning room was taking on a grayish tinge, getting darker… darker… darker… She tried to keep her eyes open but her eyelids were too heavy. A soft hum filled her ears, getting louder and louder, buzzing like bees. And then it was dark.
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Amelia woke up with a pounding headache. Every muscle in her body throbbed, and she felt weak and lightheaded. Her mouth was parched and a stubbly film covered her tongue. She smacked her mouth, opening and closing, trying to get the saliva moving. The horrid taste was as if she had licked a wet dog, and she wrinkled her nose. How much had she drunk last night? Obviously way too much, she thought and silently vowed never to drink again.
From somewhere in the house, she heard a door slam followed by muffled voices. She couldn’t make out the conversation, but the tones were enough to let her know that an argument was underway. She pulled a pillow over her head, trying to drown out the noise, but it was no use. Another door slammed and footsteps pounded down the stairs.
Frustrated, Amelia flung the pillow across the room. The sun glittered through the window on the west side, letting her know that she had slept most of the day. She glanced over at the clock, 3:30. With a groan, she dragged herself out of bed and staggered to the bathroom.
After guzzling three large glasses of water and popping a few Advil, she brushed her teeth to get rid of the rancid taste in her mouth. The toothpaste wasn’t much better and the sharp mint caused her stomach to heave and turn.
Amelia sunk to the floor, resting her head between her knees, gulping in a few deep breaths. She racked her mind, trying to remember what she had done last night, but everything was fuzzy. A few foggy images coursed through her head. Jell-O shooters, Tyler, Eric, but they were all jumbled and torn, nothing was making sense.
A couple minutes later, her stomach settled and she slowly got up off the floor. Hot bolts of pain shot through her head. She ran her fingers through her hair and discovered the source of the pain. A goose egg the size of a plum rested at the back of her head and her hair was matted and crusty around it. The lump was throbbing as if it had its own pulse.
How had that happen? Amelia leaned up against the counter to get closer to the mirror and with a little handheld mirror, she examined the lump. She noticed a gash as well. She stared at it, trying to think, but couldn’t remember anything.
You need to remember, a small voice echoed through Amelia’s mind. She needed to figure out what happened.
Amelia couldn’t breathe. Her chest felt tight as if something was squeezing around her heart and tugging, pulling her off balance, and she stumbled, righting herself on the sink ledge. She caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror, gasping for breath. Her eyes were veined red, and her skin had a pale, grayish pallor. She splashed some water on her face and the coolness helped a bit but the tugging at her chest continued. Each tug was more forceful than the last. She sucked in a few ragged breaths and stumbled towards the door. She needed help. If she could just make it out of her room, someone would help her.
“Amelia, are you okay?” Mitchell’s panicked voice sounded loud in her ears and she stopped abruptly looking around her but she saw nothing—no Mitchell. It was just her, alone in her room. She gave her head a shake, convinced she was losing her mind and staggered out the door.
Amelia could hear the hushed voices of her roommates floating down the hallway and she pushed herself forward. She felt as if her body was giving her the finger, but she kept going. Her legs felt like they were weighted down by boulders and every time her feet hit the floor a stabbing pain shot through her head, but she didn’t allow herself to stop.
As Amelia approached the kitchen, a new but somehow familiar voice trickled into her ears and an odd warmth settled in her stomach. For a moment, she thought she was going to be sick and stopped, leaning against the wall.
An image of Mitchell flooded her mind. Mitchell kissing her. Her lips tingled at the memory and her face flushed. The sensation resurrected another memory. When he had kissed her neck, there had been a sharp pain, like needles breaking her skin and then burning. Her neck had been burning. She shook her head, trying to toss out the disturbing memory. It was just a dream, she told herself.
Amelia felt another tug, as if there was a chain around her waist yanking her forward, and she stumbled. Her feet were moving again but she didn’t feel like she was in control of the movement. It felt like she was being pulled. Her pulse quickened and her stomach fluttered with anticipation, almost as if her body knew what was waiting for her.
Amelia made it to the living room, following the sound when Luke’s booming voice broke her stupor. “That’s enough!” followed by the sounds of a struggle and the crack of a fist connecting with solid flesh. A few more incoherent shouts and grunts blasted from the kitchen.
Suddenly, bits and pieces of the night before came flooding back. Tyler’s raspberry lips and Eric’s ridiculously protective outburst.
Amelia remembered storming off. She hadn’t been alone. Had there been a young girl? Yes, that creepy kid… Kandi and a man named Adam. Images flashed quickly, red eyes, blazing like fire. Her blood hot and sticky trickling down her neck. Eric’s contorted face with flecks of crimson filling his vision. And she had told Luke he was a vampire! Did that really happen?
“Where are you? Are you hurt?” Mitchell’s voice burst into her thoughts.
“Get out of my head,” she screamed out loud. Shaky and dizzy, she needed to sit down before she passed out and she crumpled to the floor. Her breath was coming out hard and ragged.
You need to pull yourself together, Amelia told herself. She felt hot, too hot and her eyes prickled as tears spilled over the lids. She buried her face in her hands. It didn’t happen. None of it happened. There’s no such thing as vampires. A sick feeling flooded her body.
Amelia heard someone shuffle into the room and sit down beside her. “Are you okay, love?” He attempted to keep his voice gentle but there was an unmistakable edge to it.
She could feel him watching her, scanning her over from head to toe. He sat so close that she could smell his sweet, tangy scent. “No,” she murmured, and a fresh avalanche of tears cascaded down her face. She looked up at him and her body flushed hot. Her breath caught in her throat. He was close enough that she could feel the heat of his skin. But even with this closeness, Amelia felt as if they were painfully far away from each other. She felt a tug, as if she was being pulled towards him by an invisible chain and without realizing it, she slid closer. He reached out, brushing away her tears and leaving behind a sizzling trail of sparks where his fingers had touched her skin. Her heart beat erratically, thumping like a jackhammer. Amelia drew in a shaky breath and shook her head. “No Mitch, I’m not okay,” she breathed, and then everything went dark.
CHAPTER 15
A buzzing noise filled her ears and Amelia tried to breathe, in and out, slow and steady, and after what felt like hours, the buzzing deteriorated, and the soft whispers of her friends came into focus.
“Hey man, you weren’t here last night.” That was Eric. Amelia recognized the voice. She kept her eyes shut, trying to listen. “You need to trust me on this. She’s a scared and confused teenage girl. You gotta think of her like a time bomb and you my man, are the bomb squad. Proceed with caution. If you push too hard or move too fast she’ll go kaboom.”