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“You’re going to have to focus.”
“Focus?”
He nods, and his hands are on mine, and his fingers somehow make me so very very tired, like he’s leeching my energy away with his mere touch. I want to put my head down and sleep, I want to close my eyes, close my eyes, close my eyes… my eyelids flutter closed, and he yanks his hand away and the darkness the darkness the darkness overtakes me and the sleep coming in waves.
But
Then
A
Voice
pulls me from the dark.
“Calla.”
The voice is thin, transparent.
It’s also familiar.
Dare.
I snap to attention, opening my eyes, scanning the area, but I don’t see him.
“Dare,” I call out hopefully.
Am I hearing things?
“I’m here,” he says, and he sounds so far away.
I spin around and he’s behind me, but something seems off and I can’t put my finger on it, and I peer into the air and I’m crazy.
“You’re not crazy,” he tells me quickly, reading my expression. “I’m here.”
“I don’t understand,” I whisper, and he strides to me. When he reaches me, he drops to his knees. I reach out a finger and touch him, and he’s real. His shoulder is sinewy and warm.
“You’ve grown up,” he says, and that’s not what I expected to hear, because he saw me
yesterday and didn’t mention it.
“You’ve disappeared,” I tell him, and he smirks.
“I haven’t.”
“Then why aren’t you in the house? Why are you out here? Why is everyone acting like you don’t exist?”
My questions are nonsense, just like this situation.
He smiles and he’s sad. I can see it in his eyes,
His
Dark
Dark
Eyes.
