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“I see,” Sanchez continues with an enigmatic look on his face. “I…I have to go. I’ll see you later.”
Why is he acting weird all of a sudden? I watch him walk away, then turn to my sister. “You’re really a piece of work, you know that?”
She smiles at me innocently. “I don’t like him,” she says.
I laugh softly. I felt exactly the same way when I first saw Sanchez when we were both stuck in the old warehouse. But things have changed since then, and I think I misjudged Sanchez. He may be a bit of a jerk, but he’s cool.
“You don’t know him,” I say to Agnes.
She shakes her head and continues her way with a little capricious pout. “He looks at you strangely. I don’t like him, I tell you.”
I stare at my phone again, but there’s still no answer to my message.
***
Tucker
I wake up with a start, push back the sheets that stick to my skin, and rush to the bathroom, not waiting a second to turn on the faucet and plunge my head under the icy water.
My memories go away, then come back. That fucking nightmare that keeps haunting me finally goes away, bringing me back to reality, then comes back suddenly.
I see my sister’s little broken body in the hospital bed again.
My hands clutch the edge of the sink, my breathing ragged.
I end up rubbing my face energetically before going to my room. My eyes fall on the alarm clock next to my bed. Three past one in the morning. The covers are on the floor. I pick up my T-shirt and quickly put it on. It mops up water and sweat.
My broad frame fills half the mattress as I fall backwards, making the springs gently creak. I inhale deeply to try to calm myself. It’s no use.
Nothing can slow my breathing, my nightmare claws at my skin with all its might, plunging its claws into me to hurt me eternally and remind me that I am partly to blame. That I shouldn’t have cut Debbie out of this part of my life so drastically. Then she wouldn’t have come to this stupid party out of curiosity and run into Matt. Before I even think about it, my instinct is to grab my phone. As I check my text messages, my thumb comes to rest over a name.
I haven’t seen Iris in five fucking days, ever since I left her house after cooking like an asshole with her sister. She needed time to catch up on lost moments with her little sister. So I gave her all the space she needed to enjoy Agnes as much as possible.
I restrained myself from harassing her with texts and calls a good ten times. Hell, I needed to feel her body against mine. I wanted her close to me. To feel her, to hold her, to take her for hours. Like a fucking addict.
An obsession.
Is that what she is to me? Is that why she gets to me so much? Or is she the salvation I’ve been looking for all along?
I let out a curse, laughing inwardly at myself. I’m bullshitting. Just. Bullshit. Bullshit. Still, I can’t seem to lock my phone. Acting without thinking, I quickly tap on the screen.
[I miss you.]
I instantly regret sending that text. Iris is so surprising, so elusive, that she might laugh at me or piss me off. Or not even respond. Did she miss me? Part of me wants her to.
I don’t want to be the only one completely addicted, completely affected. I can’t get her out of my head. A second later, my phone vibrates.
[You miss me,
or are you missing a certain part of me…?]
And just like that, I imagine her saying these words to me, with a defiant look on her face. Just like that, she pushes my past away. My nightmare slips away from me as I focus on her damn text, my heart lighter. I happily play along with her, eager to think of something other than my little sister’s damaged body.
[A certain part of your body, in fact.]
[My toes?]
I burst out laughing in the middle of my room like an idiot.
