The Wishing Well

Chapter 8

Harsh, Olivia thought.

Not harsh, was the reply. It sounded like the voice was musing to itself—to himself.

They have to banish the bad guys from the group, he continued, as if this was something he recited in his sleep. They'll be traitors later. It's essential to the plot. Olivia heard him close the laptop, and wondered if he had figured it out yet himself. Because she had, and she didn't know what to think of it. He ought to know, too.

Olivia’s cell phone buzzed. She jumped and snatched it from her jacket pocket. It was Mom, probably on the road to her second job. She worked two places to support the both of them.

Hi Vee, just making sure you're ok. Txt back

Olivia hesitated. Would her mother believe that she was reading Ian’s thoughts? She said the other day that those things were silly. Anyway, she had better things to do than worry about her crazy daughter.

Olivia gazed at the text message, longing so badly to be home today. Not here, but her real home in Boise.

She realized Ian was heading this way, and didn't know what to do. Olivia met his gaze as he approached, then nodded to the entrance room. Follow me, Olivia thought, part of her hoping he wouldn’t hear—but when Ian blinked in confusion, she knew he had. She hurried out of the room, and stopped in front of the painting. Her eyes focused shakily on the grim images before her, as she struggled not to faint.

Ian stepped up somewhere behind; Olivia blanked her mind on purpose. She rubbed her hands together, trying to warm them. Then she finally looked him in the eye and croaked, “Ian.” His eyes filled with alarm, while Olivia struggled for words. Finally, she remembered a line from earlier—a line from his story.

“Even the pets of the devil need company,” she recited, holding his gaze.

Ian was shocked. “How did you—?” he stammered.

“I heard it all,” she whispered. “Because you were reading it today.” For some reason I can hear your thoughts, she finished silently. You can read mine, too. What happened? What's going on?

Olivia turned away, just before everything spiraled out of control. A feeling of desperation and terror came over her. She dropped the cell phone in her haste to the door, and didn't care to pick it up.

Ian called after her, but it did no good. Olivia flew past the well and the garden statues, far enough that he was out of earshot. She stumbled into the house, locked the door and sank to the ground. She cried herself out earlier today, so instead sobbed dryly.

Ian called her with his thoughts. Whether he did it on purpose, she did not know. But suddenly it was a chorus of Olivia! What's wrong? What's happened? Your phone—come back!

Olivia stood up and returned to the keyboard, picking out the song she wrote earlier. Numbly, she hit the keys. After all the confusing emotions today, her body wanted to shut down...just stretch out on the bed and sleep. She didn't give in, though, just kept playing.

I want, she thought. I...I want...Well, I don't know what I want.

Olivia, Ian called.

She ignored him. I want sleep. But I won't.

The doorbell rang, but she kept playing. She couldn't move, so even if she wanted to answer, it would take forever to get up.

The doorbell rang again.

“Solitude,” she sang in a whisper, not caring if it sounded like a song at all. Not caring if it was lame or cheesy. It was what she felt right now, so she liked it. “I need solitude tonight...my own thoughts are not mine...need a place to run and hide...”