Me: Oh, how mysterious.
Vix: yeah yeah, can you make it here Friday? I’ll let Knox know to put you on the “list.”
Me: There’s a list? Wow, now I feel fancy, lol.
Vix: STFU you’re an idiot, I’ll see you then.
Chapter 6
Myssa
Over the next few days, I try to keep myself busy. Reading books on the balcony, shopping, catching up on old shows. But the lack of doing anything constructive is starting to weigh on me. The number of times I’ve hovered over Sasha’s phone number to find out what’s going on at work is more than I care to admit. This morning is no different. Sipping my coffee, I decide to crack open my laptop and search for things to do in my area.
An ad comes up on Facebook for a large flea market held on every Friday in the south suburbs. I’ve always been a sucker for a flea market, a place to find hidden gems and antiques. Walking over to the sink, I make the decision to go. It will keep my mind busy and stop my obsessing about tonight.
The anticipation of going to Frequency tonight has me feeling a multitude of emotions. Excitement to go to the new club, anxiety because it’s been months since I’ve gone out. Sadness, because this will be the first time I go without Nik.
One thing I didn’t anticipate was traffic. The never-ending construction on 355 always fascinates me. It always seems they start on one section and every year move on to the next. Three years later, they’re back where they started. You’d think theywould somehow find the right asphalt to make it work for more than a few years. But I supposed if they did that, they wouldn’t have a reason to consistently charge tolls.
Stuck while everyone tries to figure out how to merge from three lanes to one, I take a deep breath in, enjoying the beginning of fall weather. Not so hot to put the AC on, but not too cold to have the windows rolled down.I’m enchanted by the sky, its rich hues of blue with little wispy clouds remind me of my childhood watching Bob Ross painting tutorials.Happy little clouds,he would say, and I chuckle a little to myself at the memory.
I lazily hang my arm out the window, feeling the small breeze dance between my fingertips. “The Wretched” by Nine Inch Nails comes on the playlist, and suddenly I start to feel this pressure in my chest. A tugging sensation I’m not sure how to process. I clutch my chest as my pulse starts to quicken. The clamminess of my hands forces me to wipe them on my pants. Internally shaking, I watch in the rear-view mirror as a small bead of sweat makes its way down my cheek. The all-too familiar rise of a panic attack bubbles up to the surface.
Fuck, not right now.
I try hard to take deep breaths. This pull is strong, strong enough to force me to look over to the side of the road.
I scan the large field as if I’m being called to it, and my gaze locks on to a pair of delicate violet eyes, startling me.
A small girl, no more than eight or nine, is standing just past the brush. Her long crimson hair flows with the breeze, and the hint of a silver streak brushes softly across her face. She mouths something, but I can’t hear her. The sky slowly darkens around her with a scarlet hue. My thoughts start to race. I should go out to her. Why is there a little girl in the middle of a field near the expressway? Where are her parents? Is someone hurt and she’s trying to get someone’s attention?
A loud honk jolts me out of my trance. I let out a breath and look forward, only to see that the traffic has begun moving again. When I look back towards the little girl, she’s gone, and the sky is back to blue.I blink a few times, but still nothing. I start to move, but continue to take glances to the side. When I look in the rear-view mirror, hoping to see her again, all I’m greeted with is the man behind me giving me the one-finger salute, clearly not happy with my slow crawl.
These strange things keep happening, and I don’t know what to do. What’s worse is, I don’t know who to talk to about it. I know Knox and Vix would be there for me if I needed it. But this, this madness that I create in my own head, would be too much for anyone to deal with. Maybe these are all signs of burnout, and I’m just too blind to see it.
Arriving at the flea market, I get out of my car and walk towards the first row of vendors selling everything from parts for cars to old dolls. Nothing worth stopping for, unfortunately. As I round to the second row, the enticing scent of incense fills my nostrils, and I approach a small tent. The display case holding decks of Tarot Cards, jewelry and antique trinkets is set up on one side, with candles and skulls carved out of stones on the other. Outside of the booth is a sign stating “Fortune teller readings here”. Perusing the tent, I pick up a homemade skull carved from stone and wood, admiring the intricate detail. Suddenly, delicate but strong fingers wrap around my wrist, and I instinctively try to pull back. As I turn to look, her muted eyes fix on mine through her onyx strands of long hair, giving me pause.
“It’s rare for you to be on the same plane,” she says.
Furrowing my brow, I silently question what she is saying. Gripping tighter, she pulls me closer, speaking barely above a whisper. “Only truest love entwined, can end the destruction of time.”
Goosebumps skate down my arms, and I snap back to look at her. Her maniacal smile catches me off guard, and I try to break free from her grasp. Clearly, she has me confused with someone else, but attempting not to make a scene, I just answer the best way I can.
“I’m sorry, I don’t understand wha?—”
“He felt it too, you know. He's bonded to you in the same way you are to him. Love is the strongest tie between two souls born to each other.”
My mouth falls open and my mind spins.
“Be careful though,” she continues, “the balance has shifted, and the darkness is crawling through the gaps of this existence to break the bond that was always meant to be.”
My body tenses as I stare at her, trying to make sense of what she’s saying. Her eyes shift past me as if watching something before she starts to speak again. I turn to look in the same direction.
“He’s always close. He will always be. Like a moth to a flame.” Her grip loosens, and unconsciously, I take a hold of my wrist, rubbing where the bond was broken.
The beats of my heart shift in cadence as a dark, hooded figure appears at the end of the aisle. I turn back to look at her, needing answers. None of this makes sense.
“Who is tha—” but I trail off when I turn once more to point out the figure, only to see that he’s gone.
