Page 28 of The Echo of Her

Emery waves a hand and strolls back out into the hallway. Although I don’t know her at all, I somehow trust that Emery truly wants to help Cordelia.

Everyone nods and stands, exiting the room in shared confusion at the events that transpired. Sloane and I head back to the common room. She walks over to the love seat we previously occupied, plopping down on one side. I sit beside her, the anxiety that I feel clawing its way to the surface and seeking to overtake me. It’s been so long since I’ve had a panic attack, so long since I’ve felt the walls closing in. I inhale and exhale a few times, looking around the room to count five things that I can see.

One. A flower vase filled with the most beautiful, pale blue forget-me-nots.

Two. A woman reading in a chair near the far corner of the room.

Three. A volunteer handing out a cup of water to an older gentleman, his hand trembling as he reaches for the cup.

Four. A beautiful painting of a man, the paint distorting his features in a disarray of wildly bright colors.

Five. A squirrel running across the grass outside the floor-to-ceiling window at the back of the room.

“Everything okay?” Sloane asks, turning toward me.

My senses come rushing back into full focus, the calm rearranging all the panic that was there moments before. Works like a charm, every single time.

“Yeah,” I say, nodding. “Yeah, I’m fine. I hope that Cordelia will be okay.”

“I know,” she says. “That was insane. I mean, do you think she’s certifiable?” Sloane’s words might sound insensitive, but I know that my best friend means well. She isn’t an empath, like me.

“No, actually,” I say. “I believe her.”

“You are so intuitive, Lyd. Sometimes it’s seriously creepy. But I hope for Cordelia’s sake that you’re right.”

I nod, looking to my left as something flashes by in my periphery. I suck in a breath as a specific feeling threatens to consume me whole. It’s one that I haven’t felt in many, many years. Dread.

The room grows cold and still, and I have a creeping sensation that the dead linger near. I’ve always been perceptive to the other side, able to sense the souls that reside there. Sometimes, they feel angry. Sometimes, they feel sad. But other times, it feels like they have no business being in a place. The dread that I feel can only indicate one of the latter.

My head snaps in the direction of the motion, and I lock eyes with someone who looks identical to my mother. It elicits a fear like no other that sinks straight to the pit of my stomach. But more than that, it makes me second-guess myself.

It’s truly odd, considering that my mother’s corpse has been rotting in the dirt for the last seven years. It’s truly terrifying, considering that I don’t usually sense members of my own family between the veil. And as I stare back at her, I can’t help but wonder if this is the start of my insanity.

The Watcher

I watched through a window at Havencrest as Cordelia Virelli lost control of her emotions.

Cordelia is like Lydia. Cordelia’s early phase test results during Sonus’ frequency experiments were more than favorable. Like Lydia, Cordelia’s mind gave itself fully to the sound, bending to its every desire.

There are others like them. I call them Echoes, because they no longer belong to themselves. Soon, they will become a reverberation for a greater cause. For my greater cause, for the Second Wave.

Cordelia’s transformation is nearly complete. All she needs to do is let go, and it will take over. It’s so close, if only she would fully let it in. Perhaps I could persuade her further.

Emery is meddling, and this does not bode well for me. That little psychotherapist better stay out of what’s mine. The Echoes are mine now. I have chosen them, and I plan to orchestrate their great awakening. With Sabel gone, that plan must move forward. I must finish what was started. Cordelia is the first Echo, and so far, she is behaving as expected. As soon as the last fissure cracks, her mind will belong solely to the Second Wave.

Lydia will follow.

I watched from outside as Lydia stared ahead like she’d seen a ghost. And perhaps she did. I’m not aware of what the subjects see when the frequency becomes embedded in their minds. This specific frequency is meant to latch onto their past trauma. It is meant to bring forth their darkest, most hidden emotions. It is meant to make them vulnerable. Once the subjects become vulnerable, the frequency can latch onto their inhibitions.

In theory, this frequency should drive the Echoes to insanity. It should drive them to a place where their only option is to submit to it or … well, die. Not everyone will make it, and that is the test. I do hope they choose life. What a waste it would be to watch my Echoes die. If only they knew how valuable they were to all of this. If only they knew that they are the very beginning, the first step to a new order, the very foundation of the Second Wave. This is what Sabel wanted. This is what I want. This is my purpose.

I turn from my place at the window, strolling over toward the forest and out into the great beyond. I flick open my lighter as I inhale deeply and smile up into the blue skies overhead. My mind is clear today, and I can hardly hear the person that I once was.

Choose life, my Echoes. The plans I have for you are vast.