Schasm (Schasm Series) (13 page)

I’m still and silent, motionless within the darkness of my own mind.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

WHERE I WANT TO BE

I SEE LITTLE FEET
running around a turquoise swimming pool. They belong to a little girl with a pair of goggles in her hand and inflatable floats on her arms. Squeals of excitement follow the sound of splashing. She hears the words ice cream in the distance, and before a second passes, she reaches her hand out, begging for a lick. As I see her tiny fingers emerge, I notice that her hand…is my hand.

I’m convulsing, and my brain feels as if it’s being shaken from side to side. I clench my eyes, wishing for the pain to subside. Slowly, it begins to fade.

The touch of a warm hand caressing my face replaces the pain; the feeling makes me melt into whatever I’m lying on top of. I open my eyes to a shadowy haze, and all I can make out is the silhouette of a man standing in front of me.

“Chloe, can you hear me?” he whispers. His voice soothes me.

Alex.

My heart flutters from excitement to hear it, to know he’s the one standing over me. “Hi,” I say, my voice muted and breathy.

His fingertips glide across my cheek, electrifying my senses while lulling me back to sleep. It would be so much easier to just drift off again. A cold compress is pressed over my forehead. My eyes burst open again.

“Stay with me, Chloe,” Alex pleads. His hands grip my shoulders firmly.

“I’m here.” My voice speaks of my pain.

The scent of fresh laundry and cologne drift into my nose. I regain my focus. This bedroom is large and surrounded by beautiful cherry wood furniture. The linens on the bed are baby blue, and I can feel the high thread count of expensive fabric brushing up against my skin. This is nothing like the sheets on my bed. My eyes trail over the stark white walls, taking in the detail of elegant decorations. I feel lost within the luxury surrounding me. I don’t belong here.

Alex appears in my view again and asks, “Can you hear me?” I watch as he shifts his weight from foot to foot nervously.

I reach my hand out for him. “Yes,” I say. “I can.” My throat burns with every word.

He slips his hand into mine, bringing it up to his lips. “Do you think you could tell me what happened?" His warm breath sweeps over my knuckles. "You were bleeding—a lot—and you’ve been out cold for two days,” he says, pulling in a long breath. “Did someone hurt you, Chloe?"

My brain scatters to put together the reason for being in this state. What did happen to me? I pull the thoughts from different sections of my mind until I remember these things: a tree, a maze of vines, and a twenty-foot fall from a tree.

Surviving with a wound on my neck.

He drops my hand and rubs his fingers over his tensed jaw. “Nobody hurt me,” I tell him. “I fell.” I want to tell him everything, but my mind is still trying to understand how long I was out for.

I’ve been gone for two days…

I can’t imagine what my parents must be thinking. "I need to get back."

Alex kneels next to the bed, and twirls his fingers through my hair. Sleep sounds so good right now. Just one minute is all I need. “Chloe.” His voice startles me away from my oblivion. “If you leave right now, you might risk falling back into unconsciousness, and waking up might not be so easy next time.”

“Easy? I’ve been out for
two
days,” I remind him. “What’s been easy about it?”

He reaches behind him and brings forward a glass of ice water. “Drink this,” he says. “Next time, you could end up unconscious for years, Chloe. Please trust me.” His eyes are full of worry.

 “I don’t understand.” I take a drink. “But I’m in no condition to go anywhere right now, so…”

Staying here wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. For all I know, my mother is ecstatic right now. Me not being conscious means less for her to do to take care of me.

It sounds so cruel, and yet so true.

I sip the water through the straw and give the glass back to him. It’s heavy and my arm is weak. "More than likely, your parents found you and took you to the hospital. They'll monitor you there. For now, though, you’re safer here.” He smiles gently.

I reach my hand around to the back of my neck, feeling a wad of gauze taped under my hairline. “How bad is it?” I’m afraid to know.

He sighs and arches his eyebrows. “You needed thirteen staples," he says, pulling my hand away from the bandage. "It was pretty infected." He sits down in the chair next to me and intertwines his fingers with mine. "Would you please tell me what happened?”

I close my eyes, trying again to recall everything that took place. The story is so long and confusing that I don’t have the energy to tell it. “I fell out of a tree and hit my head on the way down." That really does sum it up.

He releases my hand and shoves his fist into the side of my pillow to fluff it out. “Why were you in a tree?” He furrows his eyebrows.

“That’s the long story.” One I’m not eager to tell at the moment. I glance around the room again, taking a better look at my surroundings. “Where are we? This room is beautiful.”

“It’s just my bedroom,” he says. “I figured you’d be more comfortable here than at a hospital.” He straightens the comforter at the end of the bed and smooths his hand over the fabric. “I wasn’t sure about being able to find the right kind of doctor for you here. Celia is a nurse…she’s been caring for you.”

I feel a little flushed now realizing that I’m lying in Alex's bed. “That’s very kind of both of you.” I smile. “I’ll make sure to thank her when she comes around.”

“She went to pick up some things for you.” He peers down at his watch and nods with a smirk. “She wants to make your stay more comfortable.”

“What could possibly make me more comfortable? This room looks like an expensive hotel, and I have you by my side. This is more than I could have hoped for. I’m pretty lucky to have you both.”

With a few more pings of pain, I'm able to sit up. The sheets drop down to my waist, revealing a silky white nightgown. A flame covers my face with embarrassment.

I can tell he's trying to ignore my discomfort as he clears his throat and turns around. “Since you’re going to be here for a little while, Celia is making up a room for you. I hope that’s okay.” He sounds as if he’s informing me rather than asking me.

Before I can respond, Celia bursts through the door wearing a peach sundress that glows against her usual tanned complexion. Her hair is long with large barrel curls, and her makeup looks as if she had it applied by a professional. I gaze at her, wishing I could look half as good as she does.

“Hi, honey," she croons with her high-pitched voice. "How are you feeling?” She walks over to the blinds and rips them open wide, allowing the sun to pour into the darkened room.

I recoil from the light, squinting one eye shut. “Still have a headache, but I’m happy to be awake,” I say. “Thank you for taking such good care of me. I’m not sure how I can repay you.”

She slaps the air and chokes with laughter. “Don’t be silly, Chloe," she says. "You don’t have to repay me. We’re so happy to have you here. You put quite the smile on my Alex’s face.”

Alex narrows his eyes at her and blushes. “Thanks a lot, Mom.”

She shoos his expression away. “I bought you a few things to wear. All you had with you were the bloodstained clothes you were wearing,” Celia says.

“You have been gone for almost four hours, mom,” Alex says. “Where’d you go for this stuff—Paris?”

“Very funny,” she replies. “I’ve never had a daughter, so you’ll have to forgive me if I went a little overboard with what I picked out for you.” She smiles and shrugs.

Celia gives me her hand and helps me out of the bed, though I feel like I could lie here forever. "Come with me, and I’ll show you the room I made up for you. I just put all of the new clothes in your closet.” She chatters while linking her arm around mine to help steady me and to keep me from falling again. The pain is lessening with each movement, but I still feel a burning sensation around the base of my hairline. It makes me cringe a bit.

We walk slowly down the hall to a bedroom two doors down from Alex’s. The large white door glides open, unveiling a room with plush white carpeting and a bed that looks like a cloud. It’s beautiful; the sun fills the room with an abundance of light. The warm rays drag me over to the window that overlooks the glassy blue pool. I’m in awe.

Celia directs me over to a walk-in closet that might actually be larger than my entire bedroom at home. She presents a dozen or so beautiful outfits. Every one looks as if it fell out of the pages of a magazine.

She runs her fingers over the fabric of one of the sundresses. “I had to take a guess at your size,” she says while squinting her eyes and biting her red polished nails. "I'm guessing you're a size two?” She narrows one eye, inspecting my body. “You're a tiny little thing." She giggles.

I can’t believe she’s nervous about what she bought for me. I can’t imagine what she’d think if she took a look at my closet at home.

My eyes grow as I examine the assorted outfits. “These are more than perfect, Celia.” I pull a hanger off the rack and inspect the white strapless sundress. “I’m not sure what size I am either…I’ve never bought my own clothes or worn anything that wasn’t in the category of a small, medium, or large.” I try to brush off the embarrassment with a stifled laugh.

She grimaces and puts her arm around my shoulders, squeezing me tight. “Let’s get you cleaned up, sweetie.” She takes my hand once again and guides me into the bathroom, where she had a basket of products for me to use. In the basket, I can see that there’s a hair dryer, an assortment of brushes and combs, and a variety of products.

“Your house is like a dream," I continue looking around the bathroom, taking in every fine detail. "Thank you again for taking care of me and for being so welcoming. I almost feel guilty for pandering in such pleasure.”

She tilts her head to the side and her lips curl downward. “It saddens me to hear you refer to clothes and some makeup as a
pleasure
." She wraps her hand around my hair and pulls it away from my shoulders. "Please enjoy everything I got for you, and don’t give any of it a second thought." She pulls me in again and presses her cheek up against mine as she inhales a deep breath. "My house is your house for as long as you need it to be.”

She pulls away with a burning look in her eyes, and guides me toward the shower. “Sweetie, I wish I knew more about the life you’ve had growing up, but I can already see it hasn’t been what I had hoped for.”

I feel a tear welling up in my eye as I wish that she could be
my
mother.

She must know what I’m thinking, because she sweeps the back of her finger under her eye, wiping a tear away. “Do you think you’re steady enough to take a shower by yourself?”

“Yes, I think so.” I hope so.

She stops in front of a vanity bench right outside of the shower room. “Okay, I’m just going to sit right here in case you need me.”

I’m normally a pretty private person, but seeing as the bathroom is divided into two rooms, I’m okay with her being nearby. The smaller of the two rooms has a shower and a bathtub. Then the transitional room that we are standing in has double sinks that sit in front of a mirror stretching up the wall toward the ten-foot-tall ceiling.

Celia releases my hand from hers but still remains prepared to catch me if I fall. She holds her arms out in a bubble around my body while watching every move I make.

She places her arms down by her side when she sees that I can walk well enough on my own, and I continue into the shower room. "Oh, wait one second," she says, walking over to me. She moves around to my back, sweeps my hair onto my shoulder, and peels the tape off of the gauze that's covering my wound. I brace myself for the ripping tape, but Celia's hand smooth’s over my shoulder instead. "All set," she says in a soft voice.

I didn't feel a thing. I relax my shoulders and let out a relieved sigh.

I step into the shower with ease and turn the faucet all the way to the left, listening for a familiar whining noise to creep from the pipes. All I hear is water gliding through the chrome spout. Even the water sounds friendlier in this place. I scrub every inch of my body, which gives me an instant sensation of cleanliness as I watch the dried blood and the memories that accompany it wash down the drain.

“Are you still feeling okay, Chloe?” Celia yells in.

“Yes, I’m okay,” I shout back. I'm more than okay, really.

I’m comfortable. I’m happy.

I’m wonderful.

I turn the faucet off and reach around the shower door for the hanging towel that feels as if it was made out of mist. I wrap it around my body and walk back to where Celia’s waiting.

She stands up from the vanity bench, pulls it in front of the mirror and pats the seat, motioning for me to sit down.

“May I?” she asks while gliding a brush through my wet hair.

“Of course.”

I’m not sure what she’s doing with it, but anything has to be better than the usual. This must be what little girls feel like when their mothers treat them with love.

She circles around me, eyeing me as if I were a blank canvas. Then she plugs in the hairdryer and reaches for a large round brush with metallic bristles. She pulls and twirls and rolls the brush around every strand of my hair until it lies flat against my back, making it appear five inches longer than it normally does when it’s in its natural waves. As she switches off the hairdryer, she turns me around until I’m facing her. She leans over and presses a feathery brush against my cheek, applying little bits of makeup to my bare face. She teaches me what everything is called and shows me how to apply it myself.

“Every girl should know how to put makeup on,” she says as she shoves a tissue between my lips. “Okay, now blot.”

“What?” I laugh.

She giggles. “Pucker your lips together, silly. Like this.” She smacks her lips together. I follow her lead.

She takes a few steps back to examine her masterpiece before she eases me around to face the mirror. I look at myself, stunned. I’m trying to control my emotions.