Gray Matter

Stay strong, Harper. That bastard at least owed you an explanation.

The phrases are thumbtacks pressed into my frontal cortex. They play on a loop, ricocheting through my thoughts every hour or so. I focus on them, using them to numb my sense of reality. Figure things out now, break down later.

My brow is pressed against the cool glass window of the silver Honda CR-V Garett forced me into the back of - even after I obliged their offer, they were persistent in reminding me that they were in control. I’m nauseous. It’s not the kind where you’re not sure if your stomach is roiling because you’re going to barf or if you’re just hungry. It is the pure, blatant, storing vomit in my cheeks and then swallowing it back down type of nausea. I tried rolling down the window but they’d switched on the child locks.

The highway is dark and empty. Sarah told me that I’d been knocked out by the intruders some time near two or three AM, and I hadn’t awoken until about nine o’clock that evening. She also said that the men with suits and trucks were probably trying to kill me, too, just as they had Adam. For the first time, I wholeheartedly believe her words.

There is the same sharp buzzing from last night digging into my skull. My breathing is hitched. I think it is near midnight but I’m not sure- if I look at the pale blue numbers of the digital clock on the dashboard for more than half a second, my cheekbones begin to throb painfully.

I try to distract myself from thoughts of Adam. I squint at the window in an attempt to pinpoint any sort of evidence that will let me know where we are, but there is only the glowing yellow line on the pavement and the dismal shadow of evergreens alongside the road. I run my tongue across my gritty, unbrushed teeth as I repeat the words “Telepathic perception” in my mind, but any pondering I do about my so-called ability - Why me? What does it mean? What all can I do? Is that what I’ve been doing all along? How come it’s only been periodic? How does something like this happen? - lead me back to images of Adam’s chronically stressed out appearance.

Tears stick to my eyelashes. I inhale a particular loud sigh/hiccup/sob that causes Garret to look over his shoulder at me from the front passenger seat. The hollowness of his cheeks is emphasized in the dull light of the dashboard features. His eyebrows are raised.

I undo my seatbelt and slide my cheek down the surface of the window. My whole body shifts across the bench seat until I’m laying down, staring unblinkingly at the back of Sarah’s seat. It has a mesh net that holds a book of word searches. Pressing my palms together, I settle them beneath my head as a makeshift pillow of sorts. But I don’t dare fall asleep. I don’t even blink.

There’s a fear bubbling inside of me. I do not know what they’d do to me if I was unconscious in front of them again. I don’t even know what they did the first time. But I’m also afraid of what my own mind will conjure up, too.

My inner voice chimes again, jolting me out of my weird, groggy haze.

Stay strong, Harper. That bastard at least owed you an explanation. This is how you’ll get it.

***

It’s a cookie cutter house, stamped onto a long and narrow corner lot inside a newly built subdivision called Lily Brooke. There’s dark red siding and dark red brick details and a driveway two cars wide. A wooden porch spreads out in front of the main door. It’s quaint — a normal, suburban family home tucked between other normal, suburban family homes.

“Welcome home!” Sarah chirps, hopping out from behind the wheel. I’m still laying against the sticky, leather backseat. A weird sense of unsettling calmness has come over me. I am not fidgeting. My breathing has returned to normal. I’ve grown used to the sharp buzzing and the encouraging voice that I’ve channeled engulfing my brain.

Squinting against the harsh light when the door lurches open at my head, I angle my chin until I am staring up at Garret. We make eye contact— dark irises against light ones. I am terrified. My insides are cracking with grief. My blood has transformed into thick sludge, weighing down my limbs and inhibiting my chest from expanding properly. But I will not let him know that.

I sit up before he forces me to and swing my feet onto the concrete with no contest. My legs wobble beneath the weight of my torso as I step up the gentle slope of the driveway toward the entrance. With each step of separation from the fox-like man behind me and each step closer to the cozy looking home, my guard begins to drop. If Adam had enough money, I could’ve imagined us in a place like this.

The inside of my skull quickly becomes a foggy lagoon. I am so, so, so tired. From lack of sleep and constant stress and living under the weight of tense muscles. When Sarah moves to press a comforting palm on my shoulder, I don’t even bother to pull away. I’d rather save my energy for more important things, like breathing.

“Everything is going to be okay,” She coos, “You’re just in shock.”

Of course I’m in shock. Within minutes my life was flipped upside down, shaken up, and tossed into a fire. The only people close to me now are strangers. There is no more Maisy Johnston or Christopher Chism. Oh, God. What is Lindsay going to do? How is this going to be covered up? I am drowning in questions and I’m afraid it’s going to be like this for the rest of my life. “What did you do with Adam’s body?” I choke out.

Sarah’s inhale is sharp and quick, almost muffled by the clamber of our heavy footsteps against the wooden porch. “Don’t worry about that now, Harper. Get some sleep and we’ll talk when you’re feeling better.”

I won’t sleep, I want to tell her. I won’t be able to. But then Sarah guides me down a set of plush, carpeted stairs that lead out of the foyer— I’m not even in place long enough to take in the rest of my new, hopefully temporary abode— and into a bedroom directly to the right of the staircase. The room is dark, but I can smell the detergent wafting from the fabrics atop the mattress and I’m stepping away from Sarah’s grasp and all images of Garrett’s rat face are swept from my mind. The bed gets closer and my cloud of exhaustion becomes thicker and I sink into the dense, warm surface like I’m welcoming my own death.