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Brea was in the middle of the highway again, screaming with one hand shielding her eyes from the glare of the oncoming truck. She was there--she was gone. The screams stayed though in the dining room, where she next found herself. She felt the suffocating weight of the silence seconds before the fork in her hand clattered to the floor and she found the pale faces of her family gaping at her.
She gasped. Her relief at having blinked out of that nightmare unscathed was quickly replaced with a ghastly rush of aches and pain just around her shoulder and her wrists. He'd touched her again. Him, who'd replayed a particular scenario one too many times.
Somewhere she heard a familiar horn blare. This time she'd been taken painful seconds further into the nightmare. As close as death would have her without devouring the soul.
She averted her eyes and excused herself from the table. Eyes followed her but no one complained. They wouldn't miss the psychotic daughter, her parents. But hell, the looks on their faces made her want to laugh until her stomach ached.
"You've bruised me again," she complained to the air, while rubbing the back of her neck. He was inside her somewhere. She could feel the weight of him burdening her and she couldn't take it anymore. Not the pain, the horror, or the insanity of it all. She'd been reduced to a mere puppet in the last month, having him control her without her consent.
You're not listening, he said in the barest of whispers.
"I am!" she snapped. "Just tell me why I always die at the end."
He sighed and she felt her chest rise with it. He was so close, always a part of her, his thoughts and emotions mixing with her own.
Because you die, Brea. Always, leaving me behind no matter what I try. I can't have you die this time. Then he said the word she detested. The Timestone…
"I won't get it." Her voice was neutral, though she was shivering from the fear of returning to the highway. He could sense her every emotion just as she could his. How had they been fused like this? He'd done it, she knew that. With his cursed piece of the Timestone. And what did he want from her?
"You don't know me. Stop pretending you do."
I love you Brea, he said simply.
She panicked at that. Her defiant side said, "Is that what you do to your lovers in this parallel universe of yours? Make them commit suicide over and over?" He ached at her bitter words. She felt the pain in her chest.
No, he said. That was all you. And he was silent.
It was a whole week before Brea felt him stir.
She was in the café near campus. Briefly, she felt his panic at her decision to catch up on homework. He exploded when Brea checked her watch for the date and time.
Do not walk into that café, Brea, he said sharply.
She ignored him and ordered her coffee and donuts. The boy at the counter winked at her when he caught her cursing at her invader. He smiled when she scowled, which was how Brea noticed just how handsome he was. The dazzling smile lit up his face.
"Fighting your inner demons?" he asked playfully.
She cleared her throat to respond, but the voice in her head grew obnoxiously loud.
Brea! She winced and stomped away without a single word.
"Get out," she ordered. "Leave. Or I swear I'll get some psychic to pull you out. Even if I have to put myself through torture." He'd manage to suppress his fury until those words. Without notice, Brea was taken back to the highway. Her heart dropped down to her stomach. She tried to move without success, the rain soaking her. The traffic light on the bridge above her flashed yellow and then red. She knew it would hit green and then…
Brea slipped on the cold, wet concrete. No, she didn't; he made her. The truck came racing, the deafening blare of the horn following suit. She screamed, her throat raw. Seconds before impact, she felt him grabbing her wrist and yanking her out of the way and into him. This was the only time he left her for a body of his own.
Before she could glare up at him, she was back at the café and staring instead at the boy with honey coloured curls resting about his forehead. He wasn't smiling now, but looked entirely worried.
She gasped as if she'd been underwater for minutes. She'd learned the first how not to breathe during these jumps in his memories. Or hers? She could never tell and he refused to explain without using the word Timestone.
"Water?" the boy asked. She gulped it down within seconds before she was graced with another smile that took her breath away.
"Thanks…"
"I'm Dawn by the way."
She nodded and smiled at him. "Thank you, Dawn."
"You must be Brea?" He took the seat across from her. His knee brushed hers sending a electric vibe through her. But it was him who shivered.
She frowned. "Yes, but how--?"
He waved a hand at the open notebook in front of her. Once white, the paper there was now a sickly black from all the ink strokes spelling her name repeatedly. She groaned. The writing was hers, but not the words.
Brea, Brea, Brea, her invader chanted. For the first time, she felt as if she was inside his body instead of the other way around. He wasn't aware of her at all. No, he was mourning.
Mourning for her.
She saw it clearly now, his secret. She was there on the road. Everything was exactly the same, except she no longer stood paralyzed, awaiting her death. Through him she felt the ice of her flesh. Blood was everywhere: on his hands, in her hair. And holding her, crying warm tears down her neck was her invader.
When she saw him, it was through the eyes of the dying Brea and so the image was blurry and distorted. This Brea wanted to reach out and touch him, kiss his lips, but she couldn't move.
Come back! he cried. Please, Brea. I love you. I'm sorry. Come back--
"Come back." Fingers snapped in her face. "Earth to Brea," Dawn said.
Brea started sobbing and soon the tears pooled in her eyes. It was too painful being there with him. She saw everything in fast forward. How Brea had loved him and he her, but then because of some petty fight, he'd stopped seeing her and she'd been unable to confront him. The night she'd walked out onto the highway had been the same one he'd
spent reading up on the Timestone. He remembered it clearly.
Dawn's arms were around her when she stopped crying. For now the voice was silent, but she wanted more. She wanted it to disappear forever and leave her the future.
"Will you kiss me, Dawn?" she asked, once they'd spent hours and hours discussing what they did on various days of the week. He hadn't once looked at her like she was a psycho let alone mention her breakdown. She could have kissed him for that. She wanted to. And might as well while the voice wasn't around to make it painful. She understood he wanted her back no matter what. She wasn't having it.
"It'd be a pleasure," Dawn said an instant before their lips met in blissful satisfaction. Brea felt some broken part of her click into place, making her whole.
[continued...]
Read PART 2 just below
