SOMETHING IS COMING
After spending the majority of my day at Christopher’s in front of a computer screen, and then using half of my night to come up with some character profiles he's set for me; I find myself feeling more tired than ever on Sunday morning.
Outside my window, it's dark and gloomy and rain drizzles down the house. I sit up in my pyjamas and hang my legs over the side of the bed. Taking my digital clock in my hands, I look down at the time and scrunch up my face; ten o-clock. Well there goes a third of my day wasted sleeping... I think to myself. With no sign of Ryden, I rise and grab a few items of clothing for the day and step into my bathroom. I close the door behind me and switch on the lights.
Before I unchange, I double check that Ryden isn't around and with there still being no sign of him, I strip off. Throwing my towel onto the edge of the basin, I step into the bath and turn the hot and cold taps of the shower. After adjusting the temperature a few times, I step fully under the water and sigh. Haven't enjoyed a shower like this all week...
Once I've washed myself, I turn off the taps and step out onto the bath mat, grabbing my towel from the basin. The steam from the shower has fogged up the mirror and for some reason this gives a sense of being hidden from Ryden's eyes, even though he doesn't just exist in the mirrors anymore.
Putting on my underwear, I take my towel and tip over my head and dry my wet hair. I flick up my hair and shake it a bit before turning back to face the mirror to wipe away the fog. My eyes widen when I see the words written on my mirror.
I take a careful step towards the mirror and read the perfectly handwritten sentence;
We need to talk, Lucy Ainsworth.
"Ryden?" I ask the thin air around me. There's no sound except that of a squeak, like running a wet hand down a pane of glass. I look back to the mirror and inhale sharply.
Ryden doesn't have anything to do with this. This is between you and me, Lucy Ainsworth.
I find myself conforming to the talking mirror, more easily than I should be doing. Swallowing hard, I speak back to the mirror like a lunatic.
"Who are you exactly?" I ask.
I keep the dead in the afterlife so that there is no interference with both worlds. You may call me The Keeper, if you like.
"What do you want with me?" I choke out.
I have noticed a certain relationship between you and one Ryden Mitchells. This, as you may have guessed, is creating quite a lot of interference.
I want to make a deal with you, Lucy Ainsworth.
"What?"
There's something on that list. There's something on that list that should never be fulfilled. It goes against nature in any possible way. And it will cause me to do things I'd rather not do.
I know that you are helping Ryden move on, and I am grateful for you doing so. But that one thing on his list has to be removed.
If you remove it, and never ever full fill this, I promise no harm will be brought to you.
But, if you don't, I cannot guarantee that the two of you will come out this mess in the same states that you both are in now.
"I don't understand."
There's a fine line between dead and alive, and I assure you that you do not want to cross it, Lucy Ainsworth. He doesn't belong in your world, he belongs in mine.
He is dead. And getting close to him won't do anyone any good, especially yourself.
"Lucy!" The sudden sound of Christopher causes me to sit up straight in the computer desk chair. Suddenly wide awake, I look around and find myself still in the Mitchells study room, sitting in front of the PC.
I look at the screen where the curser blinks and realise that I must have fell asleep on the keyboard because the last sentence before the curser looks something along the lines of; said Russellkjceuysdhe2by37er32ny7u. Making an 'oh' with my mouth, I slowly backspace at the random letters and numbers, feeling my cheeks burn for some reason.
"Jeez, if you're tired, why didn't you just ask to go home?" Christopher asks in the seat next to me.
I rub my eyes and relax a little in my chair. I look around and see Ryden standing in the corner of the room. He looks at me, appearing a little concerned. Frowning, I look back to Christopher, who, now, also looks at me with a worried expression.
"Hey, are you alright Lucy? You've got something on your arm," he says, looking at my right arm, exposed in my t-shirt. I look down and give out a little squeal when I see the strange and bloody looking mark on my forearm. Raising an eyebrow, I touch the mark and a sharp pang results from my touch.
"Ouch," I exclaim, taking my hand away. I check my hand for blood, but luckily for me it's clean.
"What is it?" Christopher asks. I bring my forearm up to my arms, and intently focus on the marking.
"It's... it's like a... I don't know. It's just like an 'x', if anything," I start, "Well, an 'x' with a 'k' in the middle... Take a look for yourself," I finish. Christopher carefully takes my arm, pulling me towards him. He looks down at it for a while and frowns, giving me control of my arm again.
"Looks gruesome. Wash it in the bathroom down the hall," Christopher suggests.
I decide to take his advice and I get up from my chair and hobble down the hall the bathroom.
Inside, I close the door and look at myself in the mirror before turning on the cold water tap and putting my forearm under the cold water. Gritting my teeth, I keep myself from screaming from the pain that occurs from the water's touch. I look down at it... What does it mean?
"Well, that's an interesting mark you've got there. Think it has any significance?" Ryden asks, appearing next to me in front of the mirror. I meet his eyes in the mirror and sigh, relaxing my face.
"I don't think it just popped up for no reason..." I tell him. As soon as the words escape my lips, two words come to my mind; the Keeper.
"Does... does the... the uh... “I start, feeling a little stupid asking Ryden this question. If the Keeper had a symbol, wouldn't Ryden, of all people, know about it?
"Does the Keeper have a symbol?" I ask. Ryden's eyes widen and he seems to be taken aback by my question. He frowns slightly before replying.
"Um... I don't think so. What makes you think of him?" Ryden asks. Flashbacks of my dream pop into my mind; the messages on the foggy mirror...
"I had a dream... Details aside, he was writing in a mirror, telling me things in the dream. It was really strange. I'm not sure if it has anything to with the mark on my cheek, but it was still pretty freaky," I explain to Ryden. He raises an eyebrow in response. I turn away from the mirror, to face to him, leaning an elbow on the basin.
"Well, I don't think he does that kind of thing... But if he's messing around with you... so help me I'll... I'll... I don't really know what I'll do, but I'll do something to mess him up back," he says. I give a little laugh.
"Just don't ever move on and I'm sure that'll be enough to screw him over," I say and Ryden makes a quick 'huff'.
I look back down at my dripping wet arm, and hover a finger over it, tracing the marking. It's not as prominent as it was, the bright red bloody look having being swapped for the appearance of an old scar.
"Hm... Maybe it's... Honestly, I have no idea," Ryden trials off. He takes a step closer and also traces a hovering finger over the marking.
"It looks like the cross of Jesus-" Ryden is cut off by three loud knocks on the door.
"Lucy! Are you okay? You've been in there for like ten minutes!" It's Christopher.
I sigh and look down at my watch; seven minutes. I walk over to the bathroom door and open it. Christopher replaces the door and he looks at me with his eyes wide
"How is your arm?" he asks. I hold it up to him and he frowns a little in confusion.
"Well... that cleaned up nicely," he says.
I take down my arm and once again look down at my watch, the time having not registered after my last look; 6.13. I've been here for hours; it didn't even feel that long.
"I... uh, I better get going. Do you think could put the story onto my USB?" I ask Christopher. He nods and walks back down the hall into the study.
"So in around six hours, how much did you guys get done?" Ryden asks. I look up to him.
"Maybe half a page. Between all the food breaks, planning the story and deciding who would write what, we only really got down to writing a little bit. At this rate, it's going to take my whole life to write this..." I complain.
"You are the one who agreed to do this. I told you this morning to not stress about this whole thing," Ryden says. I raise an eyebrow.
"So what? I spend the rest of my life getting you to move on from yours? I just want this to be over," I tell him. His face suddenly saddens and I realise what I've said. I look away from him and lean up against a wall, staring down at the carpet.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean it," I apologise. I look to him for his reaction. Ryden shrugs.
"Don't sweat. I understand. I would probably be the same considering the situation," he says with a smile.
"Okay, here's your USB and your laptop. I think your backpack is still downstairs. Are you sure you didn't want to stay for dinner? I'm sure mum wouldn't mind a guest," Christopher offers, appearing back in the hallway. I take the laptop from his hands and slip the USB into my pocket.
"No, I need to get home. My brother will probably start worrying about me if I'm not home in next forty-five minutes," I tell him.
"Sure, fair enough," he says. I follow him downstairs, grasping onto the railing to stop myself from tumbling down. I pack everything back into the backpack and say goodbye to Harry and Neola. Christopher walks me to the front door and smiles.
"Well, this was fun. When did you want to organise our next... um... session?" he asks. I think for a second, sucking a little on the corner of my bottom lip.
"How about I let you know when I'm free? I'll work on my parts between then and now of course, I just can't think of a date off the top of my head right at this very moment," I reply.
"Okay then. How about we exchange numbers then? That way it'll be easier... to you know... communicate," Christopher says. I smile as he blushes a little. Harry was right; this boy seems to have no experience with conversing or even being friends with girls... poor kid, I think to myself, smirking in my mind.
"Sure thing. I'm using my brothers’ old phone for the time being, so if I get a new one, I'll make sure to let you know," I tell him.
We both whip out our mobile phones and exchange the numbers. After that's done, I wave him goodbye and he closes the front door. I walk down the front path, Ryden still close by to help me out if need be. I unchain my bike from the front fence and buckle my helmet over my head, swishing my hair out of my face.
"Get on," I tell Ryden as I sit down on the seat. He gets on behind me and asks whether I'll need to him to ride me home. I suggest letting me going as far as I can, and if need be, I'll him take over.
Like always, he sits close behind me, only this time, as soon as I can sense his closeness, the marking on my arm once again takes on the bloody and gruesome look. I scrunch my face up in slight confusion and mostly disgust at the sight of what has become of my arm.
I notice Ryden move back a little behind me, and the redness of my arm dies down a bit more. I frown. The bastard... he's keeping me and Ryden from getting too close... what does he expect to happen anyway?
"Are we going?" Ryden asks impatiently from behind me and I shake myself out of my little mini rage.
"Hold your horses... remember, I'm injured," I tell Ryden and he snickers.
"If it's gonna take you this long to start up, it'll take us all night to get home."
* * *
Luckily, I prove Ryden wrong, getting us home in less than an hour, which, by my standards, is pretty good considering everything. We pull into my driveway and I notice that none of the lights are on inside, and that my dad's car isn't in the driveway, nor is Noah's.
"Hm, that's strange. It's a quarter past seven on a Saturday night, and no one's home," I point out, parking my bike underneath the birch tree.
"Maybe they're out," Ryden says. I turn to him as we walk up to the house and raise an eyebrow.
"Nah... I couldn't figure that one out on my own," I say sarcastically. He shoves me playfully.
"Well, they could be asleep," he says, trying to make up for his stupid comment. I shake my head, arguing that no one in my family gets to bed before ten o'clock.
At the front door, I unlock it and swing it open, looking down at the dark hallway. Reaching around, my fingers blindly feel for the light switch. Feeling the cold, hard plastic of the switch, I flick it and the hallway comes to life. I close the front door behind me once I'm inside to keep out the chill of the night. Dropping the keys on the hallway table, and I crouch down to the bottom shelf of the hallway table and look at the answering machine.
Sure enough, there's three messages; No doubt one will be from dad, the other from Noah, and perhaps the third might be Aunt Dedree begging us to come to London for a couple of nights, as per usual. I click play on the machine and fall back onto the floor, moving back against the wall to sit comfortably while I listen to my brother and father's reasons for being absent at this moment.
"Three new messages. Message one: 'Hey Possum, its dad. I've had to stay back a bit later tonight so I won't be home until eightish. But Noah should be home by then anyway. You know where dinner is. See you soon Lucy.' End of Message one.
"Message two: 'Hey Lucy or Dad, whichever gets here first...? I don't know. Anyway, I'm going out with some friends after work today and won't be home till late. Don't stay up late for me. I'll see you guys then. Bye.' End of message two," the answering machine tells me. Well, at least we now know where they are...
"Message three: 'Hello everyone! It's mum here. Just wanted to remind you all that I'll need picking up from the airport at around tenish tomorro-' All messages deleted."
I move back from the answering machine, after leaning forward to press the delete button. Sitting back up against the wall, I draw in my knees and hug my legs against my chest, staring blankly at the answering machine.
"You know Lucy, I think that last message was pretty important," Ryden says. I look to him, still standing in the hallway and frown.
"She's not important. Besides, I don't want her to come home. All she ever does it cause chaos for everyone," I tell him. I stand up and walk into the kitchen, flicking on lights as I do.
"Lucy... she's your mother," Ryden says. I turn around to him on the spot and stare into his brown eyes.
"I thought we talked about this... maybe not. But either way, never, ever feel sympathy for that woman, and don't you ever try to make my feel sympathy for her. She doesn't deserve it, ok? Now drop it."