Chapter Twenty One

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I want to forewarn you guys that I was and am uncertain about this chapter.  I even considered leaving it out and letting your own imaginations invent whatever they liked for Scott and Angela's meeting. Also, the contents of this chapter are still undecided. This is the rough draft of Chapter Twenty One, but I am almost entirely certain it will be changed or removed later. 

Song: Believer (by Imagine Dragons)

*

"S-Scott," Angela faltered. The bones of her legs felt weak -- like instead of a rigid framework of calcium and collagen, they were composed of gelatin and were insufficient to support her weight. Her heart pulsated painfully, and a sharp pain echoed in the crevasses of her skull. The previous lack of headaches while she saw Laurence now struck her as wrong.

His smile faded. Or maybe it didn't. He wasn't in focus in Angela's vision: even though she stared directly at him, it was like he lingered in her peripheral vision. He said something, but the sound was oddly distorted, and Angela wondered if she would pass out, everything felt so surreal.

Then the world stabilized -- at least more than it was. "I have to tell you something," he said. Yes, his smile was gone. She was able to focus on him enough to see that. Even without his lips curved upward, Angela remembered perfectly well the image of his wide grin. She had dreamt of it many nights.

The memory of Scott's voice, however, had been forgotten around the time she turned fifteen, and the recollection of it had always eluded her. Although his words warned of something unpleasant, the tones and inflections in his tones were distinctly Scott; they sounded good to her ears, like the voice of a long-lost friend. That was, essentially, what Scott was. Angela recognized that, and part of her wanted to rush forward, grasp him into a hug, and squeeze hard enough to attach him to her forever. The other part -- the dominant part -- was too shocked by his presence to do anything but stare at him with a gaping mouth.

"Angela..." Scott faltered.

"Scott," she said, almost wondrously. There he was: Scott Hemmis. He was really in front of her, curly hair and all -- or was her mind deceiving her? She almost put a hand out to touch his chest in investigation.

But then he distracted this pursuit with his next words. He barely managed to stumble over the enunciation of one before forcing the next out. Angela's scrambled brain tried to understand the rushed speech, or at least remember it for later dissection.

"You're in danger, Angela. I can feel it; you reek of it. There's something in this town that's causing this, and some old evil is being thrust upon your shoulders. I don't know what... but it's coming for you. The visions, the seeing the past, the thoughts -- I'm sorry. It got worse and I never wanted this to happen to you. You have to fight it, Angela or it will drive you mad. It will bring you here." His voice was fading, and along with it, Scott. "It's the lunacy -- the lunacy of --"

And then he was gone: blurring in Angela's vision, dissipating into nothingness. Angela Grodberg almost croaked out his name again, but the core-deep ache of not belonging to wherever it is that she was struck her deeply. In an inelegant motion unlike that in the movies, Angela collapsed onto the ground like one struck dead.

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