Free Compelled by Shawntelle Madison

could make a ship sail backwards. “You have a way of bringing out the best in me. I need to spend more time with friends like that.”
    We began to walk again.
    “Why can’t I seem to bring out the best in myself, then?” I asked.
    “I guess it doesn’t work that way. If it did, we wouldn’t be in therapy.”
    “You got that right. I wouldn’t still be hoarding.”
    We slowed down a bit but kept going.
    “It takes time, you know,” he said. “I’m still not married and have panic attacks every time I want to meet a pretty girl.”
    “We’re all a work in progress, huh?”
    “I wanna be done.”
    I couldn’t resist rolling with laughter. “You and me both, Tyler.”

    After asking the locals some questions and a short bus ride, we found a hostel to stay for the night in the neighborhood. The area wasn’t too bad, rather like Brooklyn in a way. Men and women spent the evening heading out for groceries for dinner and the scents from their cooking drifted to my nose.
    The sounds of conversation from the next building bled through the walls and reached my ears. I longed for home already.
    Tyler was in the bed next to mine. The large room had several occupants already sleeping.
    This was my first hostel and the second time tolerating a bed that wasn’t my own. Tyler saw the look on my face when we came in and immediately turned around to find a shopping mart to buy me suitable bedding. The place smelled clean, but no matter how I tried to shake the bounds of my illness, I couldn’t unsee things. Mind over matter was some useless bullshit in my opinion. I could sit on the bed and pretend I didn’t smell the cat that had wandered around the place and lay on my bed. I could sit on the bed and pretend I didn’t notice the tears in the sheet (seven of them.) And finally, I could pretend I was an alpha female and this was trivial. Humans had so many things that didn’t concern them. Their lack of senses gave them blinders I wished I had.
    I laughed a bit, and Tyler opened one eye to glance at me.
    “Don’t worry, I haven’t cracked yet,” I said with a bit of a smile.
    “Yet,” he mumbled.
    I closed my eyes and focused on the TV show blaring through the wall from the home next door. I focused, allowing my ears to give me all the input I needed. I didn’t need to worry about the room, the bed, or the occupants.
    As I drifted off to sleep, listening to the laughter from the wife whose husband complained that his food was too cold and the kids arguing about some video game they heard about at school, a smile settled on my face. I thought about my brother Alex and my parents and a similar scene from decades ago when we were kids. Those were good times.
    I held onto those memories and slept.

    We were supposed to be at Alexander Park at nine a.m. But if you know me, I am a stickler for time. Matter of fact, I dragged Tyler out of bed to show up at eight forty-five sharp. In my opinion, the early werewolf could catch and munch on the bird that caught the worm. That sort of thing.
    But not a single person was waiting at the designated spot.
    “They are musicians,” Tyler said with a shrug. “There’s no reason for them to be on time. They might’ve had a late night gig or something.”
    Forty-five minutes later, the first person showed up. A tall man, wearing a wrinkled, bright red suit that stank of booze and smoke, ambled up to us holding a violin case. Using a small comb, he ran it through messy brown curls that refused to stay put.
    “Are you waiting for the tour bus?” I asked him in Russian.
    “Yes. Do I know you?”
    “I’m Yuri’s cousin, Natalya. He told us we could hitch a ride.”
    “Oh, yes, he told us about you last night at dinner. I’m Dmitri!” He glanced at my friend as if he wanted introductions. “Who is your friend?”
    I introduced him to Tyler.
    Tyler stumbled over saying hello in Russian, but he managed to introduce himself with flair.
    “Might as well prepare for any photo