HAUNTED
twenty

20

In a thought, they were at Old John’s place collapsing into Jacobs’s bed. She barely noticed that they had moved. She didn’t want to leave his full hopeful grip. She ripped herself from him and stood up, scared and threatened by how close he felt. The walls went back up. She was getting to close to him and she needed to stop before things got complicated.

“What were those things,” Jacob asked as he looked through his bag trying to find what he could salvage.

“Zombie robot puppet humans,” she finally began to feel the pain of the fight, “minus the rabies.”

“How did you… um,” he looked right at her.

“I don’t know,” terrified of herself.

He stood up and walked towards her, “are you okay?”

“Are you?” he placed some sciency stuff on the desk and turned back to face her.

“Honestly…” he puffed, “I don’t know. We just,” deep outward breath, “killed. We need to figure out what happened to you. So… I need you to speak.”

“Now,” her breath was coming and going too quick. She was beginning to get dazed. He noticed, he got to her quick. Limbs felt weak and she was out.

“Nice way to avoid speaking,” he mumbled with her in his arms though he was genuinely concerned. He lay her on his bed tenderly noticing her minor cuts and bruises. He worped to the desk got the metal container with first aid stuff and began dressing her wounds in her twitchy sleep. Knuckles bruised and fists clenched, she was burning up. Her eyes flashed open. She ripped her hand away from him. She sat too quickly. Everything went blurry. Bewildered she pulled her legs to her chest and wrapped her arms around them.

“Stop,” she mumbled tears gathering in her eyes.

“Lex,” now Jacob was really concerned. She blinked and a tear fell. Her mind seemingly lost in another world. He didn’t know what to do. He froze lost in his old world. She looked terrified, sad, broken, hurt… wild, frantic, distant… her hair all messy, pale faced and closed off. Most of all she looked tired, like life had given her too much. She felt like life had worn her out like an overused pair of jeans and all that was left was this rag of torn, fraying, faded jumbled fabric. Too young to feel like this and her soul too old not to.

Jacob looked at the undone bandage in his hand. He kept trying to fix things. This was his fault he shouldn’t have messed with nature to begin with, “Jacob,” she sighed out. He looked at her, reached out and wiped her tear away. She took his tear stained hand, gripped it tight, “I’m okay.”

He took a deep breath with his eyes closed, you’re okay. Then reached for his miracle fast healing stuff which he had created by extracting some of Flamel’s genes.

He tenderly smothered a bit on the corner of her lip avoiding eye contact. He lingered on her lip for a moment too long, lustfully lost in thought… she watched his every move and caught every glance… He wanted to kiss her. Make her feel something else, love maybe even, so long as it would take the hurt from her eyes even for a moment.

It healed faster than he thought it would. He cleared his throat, “any idea how or why it happened.”

“I got punched in the jaw because I was attacking them,” she smiled though she knew that’s not what he meant. He finally caught the look in her eyes. He smiled.

“What was it like,” determined to understand.

“Like being trapped in a memory.”

“May be a thought could have triggered it,” he thought out loud. And she remembered she loved him.

“Yeah, may be. Did I hurt you?” she lay her hand on his cheek, the cheek she had punched.

“I heal quicker than you and most humans,” he bragged.

“Show off,” she teased, “you’re not invincible. You don’t have to pretend to be.”

“I’m not.” He recalled the fight for a moment in thought, “I don’t remember you being that heartless.”

“I don’t think I was. Maybe it’s another one,” she got her still messy hair out of her face. It was a little more than being trapped in a memory, there was an extra force she didn’t understand. She moved to get out of bed, “I need to get my bag there is something in there that might provide answers.

He worped to the room and returned before she could even move, “here,” she opened the bag and pulled out a book.

“Nightmares,” she murmured, “at least I thought they were. There is one where I slaughtered joyfully. I enjoyed killing those things today. No guilt or regret.” There was something else about the massacre, she felt like one of those things. The thought just bothered her but she wouldn’t say anything. He was already worried. The thought was heavy that she felt no remorse for her actions against those ‘zombie robot puppet humans’. She randomly opened a page, “I started having them when my parents died. I wrote them down because it felt like they meant something more.” She glanced at the page, “you’re in this one.”

Okay this has gone too far, he thought in passing, “here read it if you want. There are some things I don’t want to relive in there.” She handed it to him.

“Well, thank you for giving me a road map to the depths of your soul.”

“Could I have it back?” anxiously trying to reach for the book. Regretting the thoughtless act.

“No take backs,” he stood up and she quickly followed.

“I just thought there might be some inappropriate things in there.”

“Now I am definitely going to read it!” He took the gismo from his desk, “homework,” he handed it to her.

She sighed, “Check if I am immune before John gets back.”

“After breakfast,” he walked toward the door, “branch,” she remembered that she was starving. “All the worping makes me hungry.”

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