Wake

Chapter 10

Lucie—rather, the illusion of her—leaned her weight against my dresser, giving me an admiring look. It was the same one she'd always given me when she'd been awake: a playful quirk of her eyebrow, a slight lift to her full lips. "Cian," she said again. "You don't look well. Is everything okay?"

I hesitated. I couldn't believe I was doing this. "Clearly not."

"And your eye, it's—"

"Gone."

Lucie's brown eyes widened in surprise, her grip on the dresser going a bit tight. "Gone?"

I chuckled, realizing I'd made the wrong word choice. I reached up, tearing the eyepatch loose. Lucie frowned, but otherwise didn't have much of a reaction. "Well, fine, it's not gone, but it's certainly blind. Thanks to Nick."

Lucie's gaze fell to the floor; she drew herself up atop the dresser, folding her legs. I watched, wondering how I could be half-sightless, yet still manage to see the very images that tortured me the most. It could have been anyone. I could have seen anyone. But it had to be Lucie, the person my heart ached for the most. "I'm sorry, Cian—you know that? I'm sorry that I couldn't protect you."

"No," I grunted. It'd been everything I was afraid she'd say. "No, muffin, stop. Stop."

"It's true, though. That's all I wanted to do, was protect you, and look at where that's gotten us now."

"Stop, Lucie," I warned. I had started to cower. My head was pounding, my trembling hands reaching up to my temples, as if I could press out the pain somehow. "Stop acting like it's your fault, like I'm not the one who ruined you. I'm not the victim here; I'm never the victim. Just stop, Lulu. Just...go."

I glimpsed her long enough to see the fall in her expression, like she hadn't been expecting me to say that. "Go?"

"Get out of my head, Lucie. Get out! Get out. I can't take it anymore; I can't—" I cut off, letting out a wail. The aching in my head had grown into a throbbing, and I could feel the beat of it, like a hammer working at the inside of my skull. Everything was on fire. There were flames in my skin and smoke in my lungs.

To my surprise, I heard a long sigh from Lucie's direction. "If you're dying again," she said, "I'm actually going to kill you."

"Muffin," I grumbled, "you have to go. You have to get out of my head—please—just turn it off, turn it all off..."

I squinted my eyes shut. I didn't know how much more of this I could take. "Stop," I hissed. "Stop!"

Just as soon as it had surfaced, the pain ebbed again, and I managed to open my eyes. The mirage of Lucie was gone, and it was just a dresser again. I was more than grateful.

With a moan, I staggered to my feet. Caprice's words were in my head. I had to talk to someone, had to tell someone, had to do something before I couldn't anymore. I was done lying to myself, lying to everyone, about this. I'd realized now, if not before, that this was much too grave a situation to be ignored.

I crossed the hall to Vinny's bedroom, knocking softly. My heartbeat was calm again, the hammer within my head finally stilled. "Vince? Hey, can I talk to you..."

I trailed off as the door fell open. The room was empty, his desk and closet neat, trophies organized immaculately. The only evidence he'd ever been there at all was the slight wrinkle in his comforter, a fossil of where he'd once sat.

I wasn't sure why, but discomfort began to rise within me. It was the seed of a bad feeling, just germinated.

He was older now, I thought. He could take care of himself. Just like I didn't need him hovering over me, he didn't need me hovering over him.

Regardless, with our father gone and our mother not far from the same, all we really had was each other. If he'd gone anywhere, he would have checked with me, wouldn't he? He wouldn't have wanted me to worry.

I checked the dock, where I'd calmed his panic attack a few nights before. He wasn't there, either. I went to Mom's room, which was locked most of the time nowadays, and held my fist over the wood. I almost knocked, but dropped my hand. I was afraid of the condition I'd find her in; lately, we hadn't talked much at all. The most I saw of her was when she popped into the kitchen to get a bottle of wine. Shortly after, however, she'd disappear behind a shut door again.

She wouldn't know where Vinny was anyway. It's not like she bothered to pay any attention.

My final stop was the garage; I shouldered open the door, entering a gray expanse of empty space. There were dripping oil paints, Dad's old tools, even a spare tire, but the SUV was gone.

The bad feeling within me had grown, anxiety blooming within me like a poisonous flower.

I guess I knew now that I wasn't the only one keeping secrets.