Three Times Torn Page 9

  “Did anyone see them?”

  “No. Olar hid them for me as soon as they showed up. And when I got home, I had to throw on a sweatshirt to hide them from my mom. My hair has been down to cover my ear so that Mom won’t see.” I lift my right arm, looking over my dark vines curling around it with swoops and dives. Small leaves moderately dress the vines that swivel and slither up to my shoulder where they stop and then restarts on and around my right ear.

  “Don’t worry about it. I’ll see if I can tap into you and help get them to go away. You’ll need to be calm, though. Olar will make sure that guy doesn’t abuse that girl or any other girl in his future. Don’t let it get you down.”

  “I’m fine. It just bugs me Joy didn’t show the slightest acceptance to my warning. Nobody, man or woman should go through life being abused.” I sigh, letting my anger wash away with my exhale. “How are you doing? Am I missed? You’re calling me over my phone.”

  “Yes, you are. A lot. I know. I wanted to hear your voice in my ear and not in my mind. I’m kind of upset now I know your day was shit. But. . .” It trails off and then he continues, “Things are crazy here. The sun’s up all day and all night, and no one remembers how to behave. I think they’re suffering from hypomania. At the snap of a finger, their moods shift and they alter into a different person. My uncle mated with this lady Mulin some years ago. He killed her last night. Her family’s mad and is now after our family. That’s more bullshit on top of why we had to come here.”

  “That’s terrible,” I say.

  “Tell me about it. But what makes it so bad is that they forget we lost someone too. They blew up the house a few hours ago, and now we’re staying somewhere else. But don’t say anything about that to Glen. Scott doesn’t want her to know, said she’d worry too much.”

  “Yeah, sounds like Glen. You okay?”

  “Yeah, for now. Hold on.” Whatever it is happening out there doesn’t sound safe. But I like he’s open to telling me these things now. “Sparks?”

  “Yes.”

  “Get some rest. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. They’re calling me, something’s happening.”

  “Okay.”

  “I love you. And no more fighting. The three of you’ll probably end up killing someone’s kid. I’m going to talk to Olar.”

  “Don’t be mad. And be safe. Come home tomorrow.”

  “I wish I could, Sparks.”

  “Love you.”

  “Okay.”

  I toss the phone back to the floor. Turning onto my stomach, I lay, and sleep eventually comes. An unpleasant two hours of rest. With my needing to get up for school soon, I sluggishly pull myself out of my bed and go back downstairs to not seem MIA. Not short of my head falling on the pillow, Glen’s over me, telling me, “Get in the shower first.” My eyes bug-out, taking her in. Where Neil had punched her, has the left side of her face swollen and bruised. “Wow, Tracey, you look bad. Make sure you put on some makeup today,” she relays, looking me over.

  “You too, Glen,” I utter, heading to the bathroom, hoping I don’t look as bad as I feel. To my disdain, I do. Puffy, red eyes signify my lack of sleep. Pink, flushed skin reveals I’m in desperate need of something I can’t obtain. “Ugh!” And man-brows I need to have tweezed immediately. I didn’t nearly look this bad yesterday.

  I lean over the tub to cut on the shower, catching a glimpse of my naked arm. Rushing to the mirror, I check out my mark-free ear. “Great!” I cheer. Even in another country, Nathan finds a way to be amazing. I wish he could do something about this hair, though. It looks like I’ve been in a windstorm, which seems out of place considering I wasn’t doing any moving around as I’d lay in my bed, treating my fingers like lighters.

  The shower’s awakening, and I’m hoping that when I step out, I’ll look better than when I stepped in. Water from the sprayer sprinkles atop my head, and I push down my miss for Nathan. It’s always here, though, I always miss him. And it’s so damn annoying always to need something, especially for it to be a guy. So damn cliché, I can’t live without you, I love you so. . . Pfft, bonding makes that single line authentic and undeniable that you can literally require a person in order to stay alive.

  I feel Glen’s forged confidence before she knocks on the door. “Yes,” I grump.

  “Come on, Cey. We’re going to be late.”

  After yesterday, she and Olar shouldn’t even want to step foot into our school. Who knows what today will bring?

  Rushing through my shower, I hurry to dress and braid my wet hair into two braids. I won’t go out of my way to put on makeup; I’d need steady hands for that, and mine are trembling because of this stupid pain. But I will have Mom do something about these put a bag over my head eyebrows.

  “Come on, Tracey!” Glen yells up the stairs.

  Mom rips the final wax strip from my face, and it feels like she’s waxed the skin off my brows. “Ah. . .” I hiss.

  “Beauty is pain, honey,” Mom so subtly reminds me.

  Snatching my bag from the bathroom floor, I kiss her cheek and say, “Thanks. See you later.”

  “Tracey! We still have to drop off Taylor, and we’re ten minutes behind.”

  With dull eyes, I glare at Mom. “If she yells again, I’m going to tape her mouth shut.”

  “You better hurry off. Wouldn’t want to rip tape off Glen’s mouth next.” She grabs a towel from the rack, taking it to the tip of my dripping braids. “When you get home, you need to go straight to sleep. You look worn. No mascara to brighten these eyes? Or maybe a little concealer to soften your puffiness?” She grabs the tube of concealer from the counter. “I can do it quickly.”

  “You’re just as bad as Glen, Mom. Bye,” I sing, leaving her room.

  Taylor speeds to her house, and it’s not because we’re running late, but because she’s trying to get to Justin. The harsh effects of the bonding aren’t just a human to Sephlem thing. By the looks of it, Taylor’s need for Justin is almost a replica of my anxiety from Nathan. “So, it doesn’t get easier anytime soon, huh?” I ask Taylor, watching her fingers anxiously tap the steering wheel.

  She follows my gaze to her hands. Squeezing the wheel, she smiles. “Bonding?”

  I clasp my shaking hands in my lap and nod.

  “It is not difficult. So, I can’t say it gets easier. It is, however, complicated. My body feeds off Justin. That may sound weird to you, but that’s the best way to describe it. And it’s not so much, on purpose, but that it just happens. When he’s around me, I fill up. And like a car running out of gas, when I’m away from him I run low on fuel. And every so often, I need to make a pit stop. And because we’re a closely bound couple—because we spend so much of our time together than apart—fill ups are needed daily.”

  “I feel like I need to make a pit stop every hour I’m away from Scott,” Glen mumbles.

  “I wouldn’t say every hour,” I chime in. “But frequently.”

  Taylor glances at me and then back to the road. “I hear the craving is a little different for humans. Being that you aren’t Sephlem, you can’t feed to fill up, so you’re always in need. You run out quicker like always keeping your gas tank half-full. So, you crave more, more often.”

  I nod. “That sounds exactly like my issue. I think my inconvenience falls in where it seems like I’m psychotically crazy over Nathan, and he doesn’t seem affected by the bonding at all.”

  “I’m sure the feeling is mutual; he may just know how to control it better than you.” Taylor shrugs. “Since of course, he’s Sephlem, and it’s he who brought the bonding to you, not the other way around. Plus, Nathan doesn’t do much of showing his feelings anyway.”

  “Would he need to feed?” I ask awkwardly. Sounds like some blood sucking vermin.

  “Yeah. Especially Burdeneds. But, um.” She tries to abort it; I see in her eyes that she realizes she’s said too much. But I insist with a stern glower that she finishes. “Nathan would never feed off you, Tracey. It’s not something you have to w
orry about.”

  “I’m not worried about it. I’m more concerned with what the hell it means to feed, how, and why he’d need to, and if he’s not, who the hell he is feeding off of, and why the crap it isn’t me!” I kind of spew out my words, drowning in an inadequacy that makes my head hurt.

  Glen leans between the seats, saying, “It hurts and is draining. They’ll take from your life, using their body to absorb your energy, your desire, everything you can think of that brings you joy, that keeps your heart pumping, they steal it, and it hurts. Scott usually does it when we’re sexing so I’m distracted and can’t feel it as much, mixing the pain with pleasure.”

  “Um. Wow. When’d you get hip to Sephlem talk?”

  Cowering back into the seat, she mutters, “I just overheard them talking about it one day.”

  “Nathan would never draw his demon and feed off you, Tracey. He’d lose his shit. The effect gets you high—takes you to nirvana.” Taylor’s tongue slides over her lips, and she adjusts in her seat. “He doesn’t need to be that way around you. Be happy he’s going around not on full. Once you start, you can’t stop, and Nathan that high would be unpredictable.”

  Maybe this is the more Nathan was referring to. I don’t know if I’m grateful he hasn’t brought it up and would prefer not to participate in those actions, or insulted that this need he has requires feeding and he’d prefer to go somewhere else to get it or go without it.

  Taylor can’t shift the car into park good enough before Justin’s yanking open the door and ripping her from the driver’s seat. They go at it, devouring each other’s mouths like an angry wave thrashing over a violent sea.

  “Really. . . You two saw each other like, four hours ago,” I grumble jealously. “Cut it out.”

  “Aww, Tracey, don’t be a sourpuss,” Taylor stops kissing Justin to say. “Nathan will be back soon.” She turns her attention back to Justin, picking up where they left off.

  “I’m with Tracey,” Glen states. “Olar, pull off.”

  Olar drives away, and we sit in silence for a while. He looks between the road and me, and I wait for him to out with it. “Tracey, I’m sorry about yesterday. I could’ve handled that better.”

  “Nathan bitched to you too, Olar?” Glen snorts, leaning between our front seats, so she’s seen. “Scott talked to me this morning, going off about it. I’m sorry too.”

  Though we could’ve handled it better, we were trying to keep Joy from getting beat up by her boyfriend. So, we did a good thing. Maybe she’ll even get out of that situation. “It is fine, and it’s no one’s fault,” I tell them. “Let’s try to stay under the radar today. Maybe we should leave for lunch.”

  Glen sits back. “I’m good with leaving for lunch. I’m good with leaving period. Better yet, not going.”

  “Glen, we have to go.” I pull my knees up to my chest and press my face to them. “We have to graduate and such. Can’t do that if we don’t go to school.” We just need to make it through these last two weeks and not kill anyone finishing this one. I have a lot riding on the end of school going well, and I need to keep my record clean.

  “I’m—”

  “I’m what, Glen?” I twist in my seat, looking in the back. She’s taking too long to finish. “Oh my gosh, Glen!” I yell, unbuckling my seatbelt and climbing into the back. “Pull over! She’s shaking, and her eyes are rolling in the back of her head. What’s wrong with her?” I lift her head onto my lap and hold her chin so her chattering teeth can’t bite her tongue.

  The car swerves, and Olar’s at my side with the door open. “Let’s get her out of the car,” he says, reaching in and lifting her in his arms.

  I follow him into a field off on the side of the road, five minutes from the school.

  “What’s wrong with her?!” I ask again, becoming frantic and hysterical. “She’s scaring the hell out of me! Seizing and nonresponsive!”

  “It’s not her; it’s Scott. Something’s happening,” he says too calmly. Way calmer than me as he turns Glen onto her side. She coughs, vomiting and choking on the fluids filling her mouth. “I’m checking with them now, but no one’s getting back to me.” He rubs Glen’s back, calming her regurgitating.

  I pace back and forth like a crazed person. Stumbling to a stop, I gasp. Nathan! I get no response. Nathan, I try again but get nothing. I panic, realizing something’s definitely wrong. Scott’s dying and Nathan’s hurt. No. I’m okay, which means he’s okay. Okay, Tracey. Calm down, girl. Hold it together.

  I’m working on it, Nathan’s voice fires off. Give it a minute. She’ll be okay. Love you. Have a good day. He’s gone as soon as he came.

  Running to Glen, I fall to my knees, looking her over. She isn’t conscious, but the shakes have ceased. Brushing my hand over her sweaty face, I wait for her to open her eyes. She doesn’t.

  “Come on,” Olar grabs my attention. “Let’s get her in the car. She’ll come to by the time we make it to the school.” He carries Glen to the car, and I climb in the back with her.

  Rubbing Glen’s head, I tell her pointless, reassuring words the remainder of the ride. I know she’ll be okay once the tie between her and Scott’s pain wears off. As soon as he’s able to separate himself from her, she’ll return to normal. Her red face almost makes her freckles disappear. But she breathes peacefully.

  We make it to school, pulling into the full lot.

  Glen twitches in my arms and I try to wake her. “Glen, get up. Okay?” I say, soft and caringly.

  Her eyes flutter. They roll around before finding me. She screams, arms and legs flailing as she tries to sit up. “What happened? Where’s Scott?! Is he okay?!” I hold her arms down.

  “Everything’s fine, Glen. Just calm down,” Olar comfortingly assures her.

  I match him. “Scott’s fine. You’re fine. Let’s get this day over with.” I gently pull her from the car, and she follows without a fight. As if nothing happened, she strolls at my side, but I see the worry for her mate in her eyes. “Nathan said he’s okay.” I wrap my arm around her waist.

  All eyes are on us as we amble down the halls. I’d pose, wave, and blow a kiss at them if I weren’t trying to hold Glen up.

  We’re bum rushed by our friends and Olar moves to stand between Glen and me. Not wanting to appear weak in front of the girls, Glen pulls herself together and pastes on her smile.

  “Hey. Y’all wanna go out after?” Rachel asks us but her gaze is fixed on Olar.

  A jolting pain shoots up my legs. I grab Olar’s arm to keep from crumpling to the floor. He helps me stabilize my footing, and we continue pass them. Gah, Nathan. Be okay. I don’t know if it’s Nathan who’s getting hurt, or if it’s my body wanting Nathan that’s causing this pain, but these sporadic spasms are taking a major toll on me. Fatigued and inattentive, I sleep through each class. Rather, I passed out because I don’t remember going to sleep or feeling tired, just Olar getting me up and walking us to the next class.

  “Maybe we should go home?” Glen suggests as we approach her broken locker. “I want to go home.”

  I place my back to the row of lockers, sliding to the floor, listening to her complain.

  Olar takes up the space next to me. “I agree with her.”

  I’ve probably worn him out today with his needing to keep a closer eye on me than usual.

  Glen sits on my other side, laying her head on my shoulder. It feels like a boulder against my weak body.

  If we go home, I know it would be worse, and we won’t do anything but sulk. Well, Glen and I will. Olar would be relieved. “This would eat at us if we go,” I respond to Glen, looking at Olar. “Sorry if we’re a headache.”

  He reaches into his backpack, pulling out three bags of chips. Taking one, he hands me two. “You’re not as bad as I thought you’d be. You’re handling it better than Nathan and I thought you would. Glen, on the other hand, probably needs me at her side more than you do.”

  I give Glen a bag, turning away from her to the approaching teacher.


  “Excuse me, but I believe eating is something done in the lunchroom,” Mrs. Kimble, our English teacher, articulates. Standing three feet in front of Olar, she gives him the “look.”

  Argh! Not her too! Mrs. Kimble is one of the coolest teachers here but has a bad habit of not minding her own business.

  Olar looks her over, a spark of interest causes movement in his irises he hides with a blink.

  She’s like a hundred. Don’t go there, I tell him.

  He bursts out laughing. I smile, trying to give him a serious look. He shakes his head, laughing, baring his always-sharpened teeth. That may be what everyone finds attractive; he looks dangerous and mysterious.

  Glen leans forward, looking over at us. “Umm, I’m not included.”

  “Apparently, neither am I.” Mrs. Kimble steps back, eyeing Olar over the bridge of her square glasses. She may be in her early fifties, but her make-up and style of clothing make her appear no older than thirty-five.

  “Sorry,” Olar says, voice deep and honeyed. “We didn’t feel like the crowd today.” He admires her, licking his bottom lip. She practically melts in her undies with trembling legs. But she holds it together well. It’s disgusting. “We’re going to sit here until next class.” He licks the corner of his mouth where his circle lip ring hugs his lip. Biting his bottom lip, he lets it slowly slide past his teeth, their points nearly cutting into his skin. He gives her a tight smirk and remarks, “If that’s okay with you?”

  She rubs her neck, nods, and then quickly gaits away with shaky legs. Her loud heels double step as she less than discreetly flees from us.

  I’ll admit, that tongue action was sexy, but it’s Mrs. Kimble he’s wooing. “You know that’s nasty,” I tell Olar, noticing him watch Mrs. Kimble half-walk, half-jog away.

  He laughs again, turning his attention to me. “It’s all in fun. I’m too old for the girls here, and she thinks I’m too young for her. It’s legal for me to play with her, but illegal for her to play back. May as well have my fun. Ya know?” He shrugs.