Counterfactual

09 | cryptesthesia

CHAPTER NINE

CRYPTESTHESIA

( — allegedly paranormal perception, as clairvoyance or clairaudience. )

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          ROWAN IS QUICK TO REALIZE EVERYTHING IS BEING FLUSHED DOWN THE DRAIN. He's the one at fault here, obviously, because he's the one who forgets to save the damn Word document where he has been writing the book and forgets to back-up his files like he has been repeatedly told to do. Nevertheless, there's always something incredibly frustrating about realizing you might be losing cognitive skills.

          If that was the only thing holding him back, he wouldn't be as bothered as he currently is. What pisses him off, besides losing hours of work, is losing hours of sleep and he can't blame it on jet-lag—he never did, but, considering he's been in Vofield for over three weeks, it shouldn't even be an option anymore.

          Thus, when he wakes up at three in the morning, unable to drift back to sleep, for the second night in a row, he briefly considers giving up on this whole thing and going back home to New Hampshire. Granted, he has had terrible nights there as well, but it was still home. He should have already started to grow roots in this town, as he doubts he'll be here for a short time if he eventually decides to go through with the book until the very end, but he feels strangely . . . detached from it.

          He doesn't belong in this world. They want to trick him into thinking he does, by playing their little mind games and through their manipulation skills, but he knows better than to fall for it. He once loved a master manipulator, so he knows every twist and turn this road can possibly take. They won't fool him again—she won't fool him again.

           Sighing, Rowan kicks off the sheets and rolls out of bed, wiping the sweat covering his forehead with the heel of his hand as he stands up. Random flashes of light coming from the living room, at the end of the hallway, tell him he must have turned the TV on before going to bed, even though he could have sworn he had turned it off on his way out.

          He doesn't know why he still bothers with watching the news—especially the local ones. They all keep focusing on stupid urban legends, which are nothing but that, while Gabriel insists Rowan himself should be paying at least some attention to what they say, as he thinks some of the mindless blabbering could be helpful. That's when Rowan has to force himself to smile and nod instead of telling Gabriel to write the damn book himself, considering he knows exactly what he wants.

          Luckily, he still manages to keep his mouth shut . . . most of the time. There's a post-it note glued to his whiteboard that reminds him he's doing this for the money and for the money alone, meaning he has to find a way of somehow controlling his impulses before he gets kicked out of the country. Though he wouldn't mind under different circumstances, he refuses to let anyone have the pleasure of ruining his life, especially when he has proven, time and time again, he's perfectly capable of doing it on his own.

          Still. No one ever told him he'd be feeling on the verge of losing his mind over a stupid book he never wanted to write in the first place. He knows just how whiny he sounds, almost child-like, but he can't seem to care enough about the damn thing. He wishes he did, truly, as he knows the quality of his work will suffer from his lack of dedication to it, but no one can force him to be interested in something he doesn't even believe in.

          Rowan is about to grab the remote and turn off the TV when the headline catches his eye for a fleeting moment. It mentions the disappearance of Taylor Morris, a student at Crowcrest, but they only show footage of her parents and the despair on their faces as they beg the audience and whoever is listening to them to speak up if they have any information regarding her whereabouts.