Young Writers Society

Some stuff is the same, but I edited a bunch. Four pages previously have now become six. I *hope* I added a little suspense in here. Ashley, your suggestions were fantastic, but I don't think I made it all that better, lol. I hope you like it anyway. Um, the whole Grayson-Kaley scene was changed; the beginning is the same but oh the ending differs so much. I edited her letter... Made Grayson go a little crazier when he heard the maid... Blah, enjoy *again* I guess. =/

Tomorrow Does Not Exist – Block I; Part V ((REVISED))

By: Joseph Dean

©2008.12.29

I always found magnetism interesting, how one solid force could have so much control over another. Magnets can attract, repel, and even destroy objects, but they are not the only ones that can. Humans have the ability, too—even dead humans. Magnetic poles are generally attractive to each other, pulling closer until they are one stable entity, inseparable to outside compulsions weaker than it. But what if this stronger force was nonexistent? Would the two be linked together for eternity, never to normalise?

Tara was my magnet. Her death—or more exactly—the way that she died was so compelling. As I lay on the hotel bed, the sun beginning to shine through the window, those few seconds—her last few seconds—kept replaying in my mind.

People always say that whatever the first thing on your mind is when you wake up in the morning is what you are supposed to do. I’m pretty sure they mean this occupation-wise. Scary. That morning I clearly remember wanting that emotional high once more, that feeling I only slightly tasted each time I thought back to the previous day. It was such a strange feeling; it resembled euphoria. I longed for that pleasurable wave of happiness.

We lived such a droll life until now; each day filled with more depression. I guess that wonderful sensation was my escape. Like an opiate, it nullified all of my unhappiness. Like an anti-depressant, it replaced the opiate’s emptiness with energy. A double drug dose. The alliteration amused me.

But if this drug was the first thing on my mind when my eyes opened, did that mean I was meant to do whatever it took to retrieve it? To kill once again? I could not bring myself to think that I could willingly end yet another life only to receive pleasure in return. What an absurd thought. I wasn’t some sadist.

Jacob lay motionless on his bed. The digital clock on the nightstand between us read 7:47. We needed to start our day early, keep trying to get as far away from Material as possible. I slowly removed myself from the mattress. Even though the smell was unpleasant, I could not say that the bed did not feel heavenly.

My feet touched the floor, and my body stood upright. I yawned and stretched my arms out in opposite directions. My bones popped, and relief stemmed from them. Expanded, my arms stiffened. My knees weakened, and the muscles in my stomach tightened. As I was allowing my joints to crack, another noise had joined in.

Footsteps. Outside. Atop the pavement outside our door. Back and forth they went, not stopping, not leaving. I stood perfectly still, my eyes scanning the area around me before falling on the knife on the floor. The knife. That knife. I slowly knelt down, glancing over to Jacob, whose back was facing me. My fingers gripped around the handle, falling along the grooves in the wood. If I believed in destiny, I’d say that knife was made especially for me. It felt right in my hand, comfortable. I stayed close to the ground, using my hands to crawl across the carpet until I was sitting with my back against the wall.

The sweat that formed around my scalp made haste in sliding down my face. I took in a deep breath and held it. I glanced right above me to the window. Someone would notice ruffling curtains. I stayed on my hands and knees, crawling farther to the door. My trembling hand grasped the cold knob tightly and used it to help pull the rest of my body to its feet. I slowly brought my eye to the peephole, my left hand still shaking but my right hand perfectly still, its fingers clutching the blade’s handle. I didn’t understand how that was possible.

My head was at eye level with it now. Why was I acting so confident, yet so terrified? The tremor from my left arm had slowly worked its way through the rest of my body. I just stood there. I could not move, would not walk away, and should not have been that hesitant. I was ready though. I knew I was. One swift movement, I told myself. Just like Tara. This person would be silenced; we would be safe. There was no point in prolonging it. I knew what was to happen.

I leaned in quickly to the door, ready to see Connell or Sharon or Tara’s family or even—the maid? Sweeping happily along the paved pathway in front of the motel doors, broom in hand, song in head?

I stepped away from the door, lowering my steady hand, constraining the pulsing one. The breath I had held in finally escaped. My head fell; I couldn’t believe I got myself so worked up over someone as innocent as that. A maid. Who would kill a maid? Ten seconds earlier I was ready to attack her, to force this pure soul into an entanglement with death.

I placed the knife back into my pocket, surprised I had not unintentionally stabbed myself yet. Jacob rolled over, facing me this time. Oh how I was glad he was not awake to see the dance I had just done. I had to get myself under control, for Jacob if not for myself. The clock read 7:55 now. Only eight minutes had passed.

If only time could slow in the proper places, I wondered.

I picked up the suitcase that we had absently carried around. Jacob had placed it beside the dresser. I quietly walked to the bathroom, still making care that the floor would not squeak. I was too used to the hardwood flooring at home—I mean, at Connell’s. I stared at my face in the mirror; the blonde was still a little odd to get used to. The face staring back was not mine. This wasn’t Grayson Richards I was looking at. I didn’t know who it was.

I stared blankly at the shower for a few seconds. Neither one of us had taken a shower since we left Connell’s. I groaned. This is wasting time, I thought as the water began flowing from the showerhead. The water surprised me when it had gotten warm so quickly. Usually I had to wait a few minutes for the cold to disappear. I shuffled out of my clothes and stepped into the water’s path.

Each droplet that came from the showerhead could have been a dagger; the water seemed to pierce my flesh, stabbing violently wherever it hit. My blood felt like it was boiling, my bones dissolving. It hurt. But the pain felt good, it reminded me I was human. It empowered me, convinced me to be stronger. For Jacob’s sake.

For Jacob’s sake.

The clock read 8:15 when I reentered the main room, dressed in new, more comforting clothes. Jacob was no longer asleep, sitting with his knees to his chest, staring absently at the wall in front of him. The shower must have awakened him.

“Are you okay?” I cautiously asked him; there could have been so many things wrong with him at that moment.

He sat quiet at first, contemplation about his face. “Hungry,” he finally muttered. I agreed.

“Go clean up,” I told him. “I’ll go get breakfast while you’re in the shower.”

His head rose; the absentmindedness vanished completely. I think he did not believe I would follow through on the promise I made before about us eating in the morning. He rolled off the bed and walked past me, still trying to get the sleep out of his eyes.

I took in a deep breath; I felt better then. I was happy, awake, alive, and clean. I waited until I heard the shower start before I exited the motel room, locking the door behind me. I couldn’t return to the same restaurant as before; their sign showed they did not open until eleven. I stood in front of the eatery’s locked entrance, looking around at all of the buildings. Surely there was one open.

“Gabe’s is always a good choice,” the female voice behind me said. I stiffened. Could fear-induced symptoms strike twice in less than an hour? Her voice was very pleasant but so unsettling. My throat had to have closed. At least, I failed to breathe. Slowly, I turned to see the voice’s owner. She was about my height, a few inches less than six feet. Blonde hair. Blue eyes. Cheery complexion. Typical.

“Excuse me?” I replied, completely forgetting what she had said. The air that was in my lungs was used; I had to force myself to breathe now.

She smiled. “If you’re looking for a place to eat,” she repeated, “Gabe’s over there is open twenty-four hours.” She pointed to a small white building diagonal to our position.

“Oh,” I muttered. “Thanks,” I told her.

Her grin expanded as a laugh escaped. “I’m Kaley, by the way. Kaley Brandt.” She extended her hand.

What was I to do? Should I have told her my real name? I didn’t know this girl, nor did I know who she knew. What if Connell had sent her? What if she was related to Sharon? She sure looked liked it. I reached out and returned the handshake.

“Nice to meet you,” I spat out and headed for the indicated restaurant.

“Hey!” she called after me, running out onto the street behind me. This was getting annoying.

One swift movement, that voice in the back of my head screamed once more.

“You didn’t tell me your name!” she added.

I stopped in front of Gabe’s entrance. I had to think of something quick, anything to tell her. A lie, a pseudonym, a reas—

“You’re staying over at the Wohlstand 9, aren’t you?” she asked, pointing down at the motel where Jacob and I were indeed staying. Her change in inquiry confused me.

I kept my back to her, still unsuccessful in coming up with the right thing to say. My hand flew to my pocket, the pocket, before I could stop it. It was instinctual. I stood still; my head turned just enough to see her.

Confused. Amused. Her expression was complex. Her eyes fell, I saw, stopping at my hand, the hand. My own eyes fell, seeing her feet moving toward me. My head spun back to the entrance to Gabe’s, the few early risers too buried in their newspapers and coffee mugs to pay any attention to what was going on outside.

Her skin was cold; her hand slipped over mine, fingers pressing together.

“I wouldn’t do that,” she whispered in to my ear. So quiet. The few amounts of air I had inhaled were forced out of my lungs. My eyes rolled up to the back of my head, it felt like. “Keep in touch,” she added. Her hand left mine and traced along the small of my back as she walked away, the golden hair twirling as she moved.

That chill along my spine made its presence known as I simply stood in front of the glass door. I knew I was covered in sweat; my shower earlier useless. I gradually turned my head to the left, to get one final look, but she was nowhere to be seen. Vanished. People seemed to do that a lot lately.

I pushed the door open and walked into the restaurant, going straight to the counter to place my order, but I could barely think straight. This Kaley noticed my motion. Did that mean I was too careless? Or was she just overly observant? Either way she knew. She knew what I was capable of; she had to.

When I retrieved the paper bag containing my order, I exited Gabe’s very slowly, looking around to see that Kaley was not around. I didn’t want to run into her again; I could not have her—or anyone, for that matter—know about Jacob and me. To go and tell Connell. To go and call the police. It had to be prevented.

I felt so much guilt. My first—uncontrollable—move was to my weapon. I did not try to object at first, nor did I try to evade her questions. I simply fled to my knife. Would I have killed her if I hadn’t restrained myself? Right there, in front of the restaurant? In front of all those people? Just that one swift movement would have done it. Kaley was so happy and exuberant. Why did she deserve to die? Because she might have known someone who knew me? Was that a good enough reason? I didn’t think so.

I put in the key—it stuck again—and walked into our motel room. Jacob was sitting on the bed, drying his hair with his towel after he had gotten dressed. I set the food down on the dresser and saw a folded paper. Grayson, it read. I snatched it and turned to Jacob. Had he written me a letter? Was he refusing to talk to me now for some reason?

“What is this?” I asked. His confusion answered my questions. He shrugged, walking over to see it, dropping the damp towel from his head to the floor.

Grayson,

I shouldn’t have been so abrupt with you. My parents said it would be best for you to find us, but I wanted to help as soon as possible. I knew it was you right from the start. Don’t worry; my family has no intention of alerting your father. Actually, we believe your story. My brother and I travel around this county a lot; we’ve heard the people from Material talk about how the Richards boys constantly lie about Connell. I came from the same type of family before the Brandts adopted me. I know how you feel. Please, contact us, Grayson. We can protect you.

—Kaley

Jacob slid the page out of my hand to read it again.

“How did this get in here?” I asked him, my voice gradually getting more furious by the syllable.

“I don’t know,” he answered quietly.

“Did you hear anyone enter the room while you were in the shower?” He shook his head. “The door was locked. There’s no way anyone could have gotten in here.”

We can protect you.

Those words stood out among the rest. I was not suitable to take care of Jacob alone. We both needed help… protection from Connell’s reach. There was no listed way to contact them. No phone number. No address. I sighed. The restaurant. Kaley would probably await us there.

“Eat,” I said, my voice back to normal. I stomped toward the bathroom and slammed the door shut. I was drenched. It could have rained outside; there would have been no difference in my appearance.

“Are we going to go find them?” Jacob called out from the main room.

I took in a deep breath. “We have to,” I reluctantly answered him.

I have to, I rephrased in my head. I had to get my emotions under control. It was the only chance I had to dissipate that magnetic attraction.