“Not if I get to them first,” I quip, as I push past her, running to the kitchen.
“Rude,” she scoffs, chasing after me.
Vix and I spend the morning and most of the afternoon bing-watching silly rom-coms, and we’re currently watching Better Off Dead while laying lazily under blankets and munching on popcorn. I have to admit; it’s a nice distraction from the last few days. It gives me a sense of normalcy I haven’t felt in months. I hear my phone buzz on the coffee table and sigh when I see Knox’s name. Do I really want to burst the little bubble we have been living in the last few hours? I look at Vix, and she nods sympathetically as she stands up.
“I have to start getting ready for work, anyway,” she states as she heads down the hallway.
Taking a deep breath, I hit accept.
“Hey, Knox,” I say, eager to have this conversation, yet dreading the result.
“Hey, Myssa, how are you doing?” he asks timidly.
“Well, I mean, that’s a loaded question, isn’t it?” I chuckle, standing up. I throw the blanket on the couch and pace back and forth in the living room.
“I feel like I’ve been living an episode of supernatural for the last six months. I wish I could call up Sam and Dean to come help with this conundrum. I’ve got my own personal Paranormal Psycho living rent free in my fucking head.” My pulse rises as memories of the encounters over the last six months flash through my head. The threats to my sister’s soul, the taunts, the pain. I look down at my arm as a wave of mixed emotions washes through me. “I’m sitting over here on the ledge, not knowing if I should be committed or if this stalker from another place is real.” I laugh nervously. Knox’s silence speaks volumes, and the awkwardness has me tripping over my words.
“So, I mean, yeah, there’s that, but otherwise I’m just fine. Everything’s fine.” My voice breaks as a flood of emotions pours through me. I can’t let them, though. I need answers, and if Knox has them, then he needs to tell me. I swallow the emotions down, waiting for him to respond.
“Myssa, I promise you we are going to work through this, ok?” His tone is serious.
Feeling defeated, I slump back down on the couch. It’s not fair of me to take this out on Knox. Or Vix. I kept this to myself, not letting anyone else in, fearing what they would think of me. I let it eat away at me. Knox and Vix have been there for me, even when I pushed them away. It’s hard for me to trust in their words, but they’ve shown me can be, haven’t they? Shaking myhead at the ridiculousness of that question, I lean back against the cushions, closing my eyes.
“Myssa, you still there?” His voice is soft.
“Yeah, I’m sorry, Knox,” I say as I slide my hand down my face, trying to erase the frustration.
“You haveNOTHINGto apologize for,” he says sternly. “Are you busy today?”
“Not really. We were watching movies, but Vix just went to get ready for work.”
“Good. Can you hitch a ride with Vix and come to Frequency tonight? I think it’s time you meet my boss, Zayne.”
Feeling torn by the invitation, I pause for a second. On the one hand, going out and being around people might be a good distraction. On the other hand, I don’t feel like meeting someone new, as this whole situation has exhausted me. Hiding in my bedroom here and continuing the movie marathon is sounding like a solid option.
“I don’t know, Knox,” I say hesitantly.
“Please, it’s important, and you’re going to want to have this conversation,” he insists.
What is this guy, a grief therapist on the side? Is he gonna be able to tell me what’s going on in my head? I know Knox. He wouldn’t push if he didn’t think it’s important, so I take stock in that.
“Ok, fine, I’ll go with Vix,” I concede.
“Awesome, come find me when you get here, ok? See you soon,”
“Bye,” I say, ending the call.
Looking up, I see Vix’s leaning against the wall to the entrance of the hallway, her arms folded. “You good?” she asks.
It’s such a loaded question. At this point, I’m at the mercy of time and whatever ends up happening tonight.
“Yeah, I think so.” I mumble. And it’s true for the most part, but I cannot deny my anxiety is starting to creep up to the surface. Felling antsy, I get up trying to busy myself by straightening up the living room.
“What did he say?” she asks, unfolding her arms and picking up our glasses, I grab the half-eaten bowl of popcorn off the coffee table and we both head the few steps into the kitchen.
“He wants me to come to Frequency so I can talk to your boss, which I thought was weird. Is he some kind of part-time therapist or something?” I ask, emptying the popcorn in the garbage before joining her at the sink.
She releases a small chuckle and shakes her head as she rinses the glasses before putting them in the dishwasher.
