248 Days

October 17th

I'm whisked away on an unwanted vacation.

     I should have known something grand was coming. I should have known that Grayson wouldn't waste his few days. I had been fittingly suspicious of his choice of memory recreation these past days. We had done nothing more than play board games. Each night he took out seven different games, but we never made it past Chest: A game which Grayson had no clue how to play, and continuously made-up rules. Call us childish, but it didn't take long for an argument to erupt and in no time the board was flipped. Chest pieces flew across the living room. Who did the flipping? That's really not important... Leaving the scattered pieces, both times we immediately stood from our seats, bid ourselves goodnight with glares and went straight to our own rooms.

     Last night's session finishing especially early, he had gone to bed at seven. Lights off and in his pyjamas; it meant he was actually going to sleep. No late-night memory planning. In my few days at the Ryder's not once had he succumbed to sleep before the time could be considered early morning.

     "Grayson," I had warned. "It's been two days." The deal was three days.

     "I know."

     He didn't even pause. He crawled into bed, paying my worry no attention. I watched him from his doorway with narrowed eyes.

     "The deal was three days," I reminded.

     "I know."

     "What are you planning?" I wasn't buying his nonchalance.

     "Alex, I'm just tired."

     "It's seven."

     He shrugged. "I've barely slept all week. It's caught up to me is all. Nothing for you to worry about."

     Tapping my foot impatiently, knowing he was hiding something, Grayson flipped on his side. He shot me a sincere look.

     "I won't disturb your sleep," he assured. "I don't break promises."

     My eyes remained squinted suspiciously.

     "Goodnight, Alexa," he chuckled, waving me away.

     It was not a good night. I didn't believe a single promise Grayson had made, and my paranoia proved to be warranted.

     I had expected a loud musical outburst and an overly cheerful teenage boy. I did not expect to wake in anything other than my bed. Blindfolded and strapped to some strange contraption, from the excessive bouncing and hum of an engine, I concluded that I was in a car. Drowsy from sleep and overwhelmed with foreignness, I fought against the strap on my chest and ripped at the fabric on my eyes. It was very unlike me, but I couldn't help but panic.

     Left arm searching my surroundings, I hit something hard before my other hand had successfully removed the blindfold.

     "Ow!" Grayson complained.

     Sun shining bright through the windshield, I squinted at him. Very slowly coming to terms with the situation, concluding that the strap had been my seat belt and the blindfold my sleeping mask, as grogginess dissolved my fists grew tighter.

     "What. The. Hell?" I finally demanded in between huffs of breath. I pushed Grayson again, this time harder.

     "Stop that," he complained, rubbing his shoulder achingly. "It's about time you woke up. It's been a real boring six hours."

     "Six hours?!"

     Grayson nodded eagerly. "And, six hours without music!"

     Heart still stammering in my chest, hands trebling, I paid his remark little attention. I stared out the window, as I tried to control my breathing and slow the pounding pulse in my chest. Through the window's reflection, I saw Grayson shoot me a side-glance.