stunts.â
âUnderstood.â
This simple acquiescence from me seems to agitate him more, because he runs one hand over the top of his head and glares. âDonât play games with me, young lady. What youâve done is serious. On top of endangering yourself with that jump, youâve begun tampering with drugs. Your own actions landed you in the hospital and nearly killed you.â
âIâm not playing games with you. Iâm done with all of that.â
He blows out an exasperated breath. Iâm not sure why he doesnât believe me. Itâs what he wants to hear, but itâs also the truth. He turns and marches to the kitchen. Ice clinks into a glass, which he then fills with Makerâs Mark.
Ayida watches him with her lips pursed together. âNolan, do you reallyâââ One look from him silences her before he disappears from the room. When she glances at me, her eyes seem to accuseâââ
look what youâve made him do
ââbefore she packs the expression away.
I push myself to standing. âIâm going to my room.â
âNeed anything?â
âNo, thanks,â I say, though thatâs not true. I need a lot of things that only time will bring.
Â
The bedroom is dark. It takes a second for my eyes to adjust. I swipe the switch with an uninjured patch of my hand. The room comes to life with a galaxy of lights. Fatigue pulls hard at me, but restlessness thrums like a pulse and keeps me moving around. I open drawers, finger stiff jeans and soft cotton T-shirts, sniff various fragrances on the dresser. Iâm so disconnected that everything seems foreign and new. Avoiding the mirror is easy: Iâm still not ready to look at myself. I gingerly touch the gauze on my cheek and sigh. Whatever. Iâm alive. That should be all that matters, right?
I want to sleep and see if Iâll dream familiar dreams. The bed is like open arms that I crawl blissfully into. Joeâs hug comes to mind. I liked that hug.
It welcomed me back from the dead.
Because of the gash on my cheek, I can only lie on my right side. The numerous strings of mirrors and strands of lights above me sway in the slight breeze from the window. Their movement is reflected on the wall: planetary circles undulate on the white paint. My lids droop, but a whisper keeps me awake. When I force my eyes open, the many circles of yellow light on the wall are filled with the almond shapes of eyes.
I spring to my feet on the bed. My head plunges into the swirling vines of mirrors and lights. Each small cutout of glass holds a dark, fierce eye staring at me. Iâm surrounded by the eyes of the ghost, boring deep into mine. Panic takes over. Thereâs a scream like a shrill teakettle, and I know itâs coming from my mouth.
Instinct moves my arms, swinging them through the fields of eyes, clawing to scratch them out. Lines of mirrors drop like spiders, covering my shoulders and body with eyes. Screaming, flailing, Iâm attempting to fling them off me when strong arms grasp mine.
I swing again, catching something hard with my bandaged hand. âRyan! What are you doing? Whatâs wrong?â Nolan shakes me. âCalm down. Look at me.â
âNo,â I moan, crying through lids that are squeezed shut. I canât open them, canât bear to see the haunting eyes that have fallen all around me. I collapse onto the bed and hug my knees to my face. There is tugging and pulling as my father tries to free me from the ropes of lights and strings of mirrors binding me to her.
âThe eyes, the eyes. Make her stop watching me.â
I hear Ayidaâs quaking voice from the foot of my bed. âWhatâs happening?â
His voice doesnât shake like hers. Itâs a trained calm. The first sergeant is on duty, giving orders. âCall her doctor. I donât know whatâs wrong. I think she cut her eye.