The Shattered Genesis (Eternity) (4 page)

             
“I don't want to remember anything about last night. So, shut up and go away!”

             
“You didn't answer my question. If I were a rapist, would I be letting you walk out amongst people? Would I let you keep going?
”

             
“Maybe you're going to blackmail me. Maybe you want money or something. How the hell am I supposed to know exactly what goes on in the mind of a crazy person? I thought I had a pretty good idea but you will be pleased to know that I have officially reco
gnized that I have absolutely
no
idea!”

             
“Let's go somewhere and get something to eat.”

             
“I don't know you!” I stopped walking and turned to him, infuriated now. “I don't
want
to know you! I don't care who you are, what your motives are, or about any scenario that doesn't involve me getting home!”

             
“Those things are still outside of your apartment, Brynna.”

             
Hearing that made me stop my indignant trek and turn to him again.

             
“Y
ou thought you had imagined them?” He asked, raising his eyebrows. “That's sweet that you're allowing yourself to be so naïve.”

             
“I
know
that I imagined them.” I hissed at him dangerously. “They were projections. They were physical manifestations of the un
comfortable feeling that you provoked in me. They were brought into sight by an elevated heart rate and an adrenaline rush. Thank you for that, by the way.”

             
“Please, just come with me and we'll talk. I'll explain everything to you. I know you're afraid.”
He reached out and grasped my arm gently but I shook him off.

             
“Do not touch me! Just...” I closed my eyes and put my hand on my head, the dull throbbing I had felt since I awoke morphing suddenly into a full-fledged, knee-buckling pain and world-twirling
dizziness.

             
“Okay...” He put both hands on my arms now and turned me so that we could keep walking in the direction I had been going. “There's a diner up the street here. We'll go in there. I'll buy. See? I am a nice guy.”

             
“Please just go away...” I mutte
red to him and for the first time, I felt the threat of impending tears. He must have heard the crackling in my voice as well because as he steered me along, he rubbed my arm comfortingly.

             
“I promise, I'll explain everything as soon as we're sitting down.
”

             
It was against my better judgment but I followed him into the diner and sat down across from him at a small booth in the corner, away from the prying eyes and ceaselessly listening ears of the other patrons. I kept my face in my hands and muttered, “If
I believed in God, I'd be praying right now...”

             
“Look at me.”

             
It wasn't an order. It was merely a gentle suggestion. I raised my eyes to look at him and he spoke again.

“I know that this is asking a lot. Believe me, I do. But I need you to trust me, Bryn
na.”

             
“
I don't know you.
” I implored him, feeling desperation more strongly than I was comfortable with. “I have no idea why I woke up in your bedroom this morning. Well, I
do
have an idea, but I wish I didn't. You have to know that I come from money and m
y family will pay you whatever you want. This is a strange way to go about assaulting someone, but whatever, I don't want to think about that, either. I won't over-analyze you for fear of losing my mind.”

             
“Alright. My turn to talk.” He told me lightly as
he slid my pack of cigarettes across the table to me. “That's my peace offering. Is it working?”
             
“You,” I tapped my head against my open palms, “are...” I did it again, “so...” And again, “weird!”

             
“I need you to understand and accept this as being true:
I did not hurt you in any way last night.”

             
“You slammed my head up against a wall. That hurt me severely.”

             
“I didn't mean to do that as hard as I did. But what you need to know is that I had no choice. Those things were coming and I had to get you to sto
p making noise.”

             
“Those things weren't real! Why are you telling me that they were?”

             
The waitress came over and he ordered a coffee with no cream or sugar. The woman gnashed her teeth into a huge wad of gum as she asked me what I wanted. My head jerking
from side to side was the only answer I offered to her question.

             
“She has a bit of a migraine. A coffee will help, I think.” The man ordered for me. My fingers were pressed to my temples. I scowled up at him.

             
“Caffeine.” The waitress nodded in agreement.
“Best thing for them, sweetie.”
             
I jerked my head up and down, still trying to wrap my head around what was happening.

             
“Ask Dr. Oz what the best thing for a pesky, delusional assailant is when she comes back with the coffee.” I muttered to him but then I
shook my head slightly and closed my eyes. “That was rude. She's just trying to help.”

             
“It was rude. It was also quickly thought of, which must mean that you're returning to normal.”
             
“Why are you acting like you know me? You don't know anything about me
!”

             
“Besides the fact that your name is Brynna Olivier and your mother is a senator and your father runs a popular news organization. I know that you currently reside in a one bedroom apartment, alone, because you have never quite mastered real human conta
ct. You joke frequently about being a 'non-human.' You call yourself a genius who doesn't worry herself with petty human attachment in public but in private, you wonder if perhaps there's something seriously wrong with you. You think you might be a robot,
a cyborg, that sort of thing.” He lit up a cigarette and inhaled deeply.
             
“Are you here to tell me I'm a cyborg?” He handed me another cigarette that he had just lit up. I took it gratefully.
             
“No.” He shook his head. “I'm here to tell you that you're
spec
ial
.”

             
“Special...” I muttered doubtfully as the coffee arrived at our table. “I think this really will help. Thank you so much.” I smiled up at the waitress who seemed genuinely shocked by my gratitude. I hoped that my sudden change of tone towards her wo
uld greatly improve her day.

             
I scowled once I had looked back at the man across from me.

             
“Do I have super powers, too?” I asked quite sardonically.

             
He chose to ignore my snide remark and continue talking.

             
“I also know that you are genuinely distrustful
of men. You don't care for them. You don't enjoy their company, especially if they are your own age.” He eyed me cautiously for a moment before plowing ahead. “But really, at any age, you don't want them anywhere near you. All of that is a direct result o
f the fact...”

             
I slammed my hand on the table, shocking him, myself and the rest of the people in the restaurant with my outburst.

             
After a long moment of silence between us, he responded to my explosion of rage airily:

             
“You apparently have a temper, too
. I didn't know that, actually.”

             
“I get it. You know a lot about me. All of those things could be learned with a Google search or fanciful speculation. What? Do you want to know about my parents? Are you a reporter? Do you want an inside scoop on my mothe
r? She's up for re-election. Are you trying to skewer her?”
             
“I know that you'd be more than willing to skewer her, but no.”

             
“I want to know, right now, what exactly it is that you want. If you don't tell me, I am going to walk out of here. Then, I'm goin
g to go straight to the police and tell them that there is a crazy, debonair man in a designer suit who lives on the street over from the...” I looked at the menu that was stuck jauntily behind the napkin container, “Gary's Diner who plays ridiculous mind
games on unsuspecting young girls!”

             
“I told you, the police won't help you.”
             
“What? Are you funding them? Do you have money to buy them off so that you can play said ridiculous mind games on unsuspecting young girls?”

             
“No. But I do appreciate the fact
that you think I'm debonair. My suit is designer, also, and I thank you for noticing that, as well.”
             
“You're so weird.” I muttered again as I shook my head slightly. “You defy all specific designations of mental illness. You are truly in a class of your o
wn. You can take that as a compliment, I suppose.”

             
“I watched you last night in the bar because those two morons in the corner drinking themselves into a stupor were not what you think. They weren't, how did you describe them? Two horny, drunken college f
rat boys.”

             
“Then what were they?” I asked, exasperated.

             
“They were the same two things that came walking down the alley looking for you. They appeared to you as something that would make you comfortable at first. Well, they
thought
it would make you comf
ortable. Little did they know, you're a strange duck when it comes to interacting with
people your own age.”

             
I actually began to laugh, quietly at first but as I attempted to suppress it, I only grew more hysterical. Once, I actually snorted and had to co
ver my mouth and hurriedly apologize for the obnoxious sound through my giggles.

             
“What is this?” I asked, a renegade laugh escaping me again. “They were those two things that I saw? The two drunken college boys were actually monstrous beasts? What is that
, a metaphor? Oh, I think it is! It's a really bad one, too.”

             
“Brynna, this world is going to end.”

             
I stopped laughing, realizing suddenly that I was poking fun at someone who clearly had mental deficiencies or a severe drug problem.

             
“There's a
rehabilitation center close to my house.” I told him, actually squeezing his hand in mine for a quick second. “Since you know where I live, it won't be hard for you to find. Just walk up the street a piece from my house, turn left on Monroe, walk for about
five minutes or eight, depending on your pace. Look on your left. You can't miss it.”

             
I stood up to go but he reached out and grabbed my upper arm firmly in his hand.

             
“Let go of me or I will start screaming.” I warned him dangerously.

             
But just then, a
torrent of images whizzed vividly through my mind; a harsh flash of light, people falling to the ground, screaming in agony and covering their ears; a strange, deep silence and then, a deafening explosion that radiated to the farthest reaches of what we kn
ew laid far beyond our earth. I pulled my hand away, my heart pounding again, a cold sweat starting to seep from every pore in my body. It had always been my worst fear. I had always pictured the day the world I knew ceased to exist. I had always known, so
mehow, that it would occur in my lifetime. I had seen it in my darkest dreams too many times to count.

             
I slid back into my chair and put my face on the table before reaching up and grasping the cup of coffee. Turning my head so my chin was rested on my ar
m, I brought the cup to my lips and took one shaky sip, hoping that the sudden heat would snap me out of that terrifyingly real dream.

             
“I know it's shocking.” His eyes took on a quiet fear I had not yet seen in him. “I know it's horrifying. Believe me, I
reacted a lot worse than you when I realized it. Those things you saw are Reapers. They're hunting people. We don't know why they're here or where they're from, originally. I know it sounds crazy. Believe me, I do...”