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20:40
SATURDAY
SANTA CARLA,
THE BOND
The humid winds of Santa Carla beach whips at my hair and makes a thin layer of overly warm sweat coat my forehead and upper lip. I breath inwards and huff outwards. My heartbeat races as I peddle faster than I believe I have ever peddled before and the wheels turn fast, rapidly kicking up sand in my trail. A pounding makes itself known in my temples and my ears feels as if they are going to burst. I swallow in an attempt to ease both the headache and the stinging in my throat.
I fly past people dancing by campfires, teenagers drinking way past their bed times and eventually make it past the board walk of illuminating lights and fairground music. The tree's are now visible along the horizon and I memorize the route to the cave.
Nearly there.
The voice continues in my head and although I recognise it to belong to David, IK begin to question whether I am finally going crazy. The ache in my skull worsens and I feel as if it is going to split in two when I put all of my power into my working legs. My chest burns, my legs feel as if there is acid running in my veins and despite my pain, the voices go on.
Come find us, Sarah.
Little lost girl, what are you running from?
I scream outwards, "Get out of my head!"
A chuckle rumbles and for a moment I question my sanity until I acknowledge something. These voices aren't in my head.
No. They're circling within the air, the wind. Spinning around me, sounding as if they were riding their bikes besides me. They aren't in my head, because I can hear them. I swallow, realising that either I am not so crazy after all, or I am an absolute nutcase. My place slows ever so slightly as I begin to recall an article that I read once; people living with schizophrenia often have auditory hallucinations, though from inside of their own mind. I realise my chances are fifty, fifty. An almost sarcastic laugh leaves my mouth. I'm losing it.
A part of me wants to give up, though I remember the poster with Laddies face printed in black and white, and I peddle faster once again. I have to know. It'll eat me alive otherwise. I whip past the trees, bike flying over humps and dirt ditches and when I make it to the edge of the cliff, I leave the bike there and dangerously climb downwards over the damp rocks to reach the opening of the crypt. It's silent, more silent than I am comfortable with and when I slip inside to be welcomed by nothing but darkness, I feel not relieved but angered.
I am interrupted by a thick, stern voice.
"I see you've come to join us for dinner." David says, his words echoing from the rocks.
My breathing quakes, "What is this, David?"
"Why don't you join us. Find out for yourself," he responds un-urgently, "Michael's here."
I spin around and although this voice sounds as if it is coming from all corners of this cave, I find him standing directly behind me, perched elegantly on large boulder. His face glows in the dim light and his gloved hands lay peacefully on his knee caps. He stands slowly from his crouched position and makes his way over to me, cupping his exposed fingers over my chip, "Or maybe you and I could stay here."
His thumb strokes my lower lip and against my own will, my body relaxes. My shoulders loosen up and I feel as if I could just turn into a puddle on the ground. What is this?
"Do you feel is, Sarah?" He asks, pulling in closer, "do you feel the bond?"
The bond?
"At first, I thought you were just for me but then the other boys could feel it too."
My mind runs circles, wondering what he could possibly mean, though again there was only two things on my mind. What are they and where is Laddie?
My heart pounds as I look into his crystal grey eyes and dismiss his previous comments, "Show me."
David's lips curl upwards at the corners, a menacing smirk painting over his angelic, sculptured face, though something tells me that he is far from angelic. His hand snakes over my arms and laces into my fingers before pulling me towards the arch that leaves the cave.
"Where's Laddie?" I question, feet firmly on the ground stopping him from stringing me along.
"He's with starr, of course." He makes no mistake in responding, as if he already knows why I want to know, "Sleeping."
He gestures over towards the three beds at the very back of the crypt and I follow, eventually acknowledging the perfect outline of their bodies beneath cotton bed sheets. I failed to noticed when I first entered, my mind far too frantic. I want to question him but I can not seem to find the words that I was so eager to speak. I follow him outside and he climbs onto his dirt bike, waiting for me to climb on the back.
"The boys are waiting."
They're waiting?
Hesitantly, I climb on the back and wrap my arms around his coated torso. I feel my body loosen, my cheek resting on his back and I sigh as the pounding against my skull disappears. I feel a chuckle rumble from his chest and through his back before he pulls up the stand with his foot and turns the ignition. The wind blows and I close my eyes.
"Let's go eat."
The bike kicks off, leaving the sounds of the crashing waves in the distance.
