Heartless (The Heartless Series) (7 page)

I think he blushed.

"I appreciate it." I force myself to move back so his hands will release my shoulders. I don't want them too, though, because just like yesterday, he's warm. I like warm.

"No problem. Anytime."

I'm sure I give him some sort of awkward smile, and since I can't think of anything else to say, I take a few steps down toward the exit. I suppose I could've gone up, but that would have required going past Lucien, and I wasn't sure I wanted to do that. I mean I
wanted
to do that, but yeah… probably a bad idea.

"Hey!" he calls, and I spin so fast the world turns just a bit. Sleep deprivation plus pills plus stress plus hurriedness lead to the world spinning apparently.

"Yeah?"

"You okay?"

He seems so concerned, and I'm not sure why. It isn't like he knows me. Is it that obvious that I'm falling apart? I used to be better at hiding it.

"Not really."

I actually tell someone the truth or the partial truth. The world didn't end, but the week ain't over yet. "But I'll be fine."

"You sure? That guy bothering you during class?"

Yes, he was, only in not the same way I thought. Gabriel… REALLY? "Not really. Just needed a pencil."

"Do you know him?"

Lucien sure did like to give me the fifth degree.

Yeah, I know him every night. I have since I was little. "No." I say a bit too quickly.

I should ask him about yesterday—the swooning, the office, the hand, and how in the world I don't have a cut or a scratch or at the very least blood on my clothes. I should ask him how Danika had the exact same cut on her hand, but I don't.

Chicken.

Before Lucien can say anything, I run out of the room before he can stop me. I run right past Marcy and Professor Mitchell.

Once I get outside the doors, I lean my back against the wall and pinch the fire out of my hand.

I need to wake up now.

Chapter Eight

I
STUMBLE INTO THE APARTMENT AND
throw the keys down on the table next to the door. I'm done for the day. Done. Absolutely done. I still have classes and, yeah, I do need to go to them, but I'm not. I'm sitting right here. I don't want to be around people or things or Gabriels. If I'm going to see things that aren't there, or imagine real people as demons, I'd rather just do that at home, thank you very much.

When was the last time I'd stayed in and not gone to class? Answer: Never. I'd never played hooky. My mom didn't believe in it. My Aunt Willow condoned it, but I was always too chicken to actually do it.

My mom believed in me keeping busy so I wouldn't have time to think about the nightmares and stuff going on in my head. I think she did that to make herself feel better. Like if she thought I was okay, she'd be okay. Like any of this was her fault. I don't know whose fault it is. It's God's for all I know, for screwing up my brain. Scrambling the signal. I don't know. It doesn't matter.

Aunt Willow, well before she went crazy, she was all for me talking about Hart. At the time, I was just happy to talk to anyone. Thinking back on it, maybe she just liked listening to my own version of crazy, happy to not be alone.

I head into the kitchen and grab my nightmare pill bottle. Now, technically, I'm not supposed to take it yet. But I didn't get to take it last night, and I'm going to try to go to sleep, so I need it. One extra pill won't kill me, just like one less pill didn't bother me today. Unless that's why I saw Hart, er Gabriel, in the classroom.

I push down the bit of guilt I have for taking this particular pill so early and toss it into my mouth. I wash it down with a swig of red wine. It's either that or one of Sam's beers. Or, water, I guess, if I wanted to. Truth be told, wine sounds more appealing that water at the moment. Smart? No. Then again, I've never been accused of that.

Drinking and taking these pills don't seem the best option for me. I already feel crazy and funny-headed anyway without the help. Still, I do it because I want to do it. The wine is pretty darn good, too. I take an extra long sip, just to make sure the medicine goes down.

Yeah, I have problems. The least of them is I'm three years too young to drink. So is Sam, but I don't question where he gets it anymore. Now… I just drink it and pretend I'm not breaking all sorts of laws.

So, pill down, pajamas on, laptop open, phone off. I'm going to rest today if it's the last thing I do. Like I'll even be able to do that. The first thing that pops up on my computer screen is Danika Pierce's memorial. I should be trying to figure out why I dreamed about her. Then saw her in class. Then she died with her heart ripped out and a stab wound in her hand.

My head hurts.

I'm all ready to close up the computer when my notification thingy dings me. Oh good. Tina is online.

@tinaM You already home? Shouldn't you be in class?

@sullyGray Yeah… early classes today.

@tinaM Really? I thought your schedule was full. Some sort of math after history??

Hand it to Tina. She sure did keep up with things.

@sullyGray Not today. Canceled.

@tinaM Ahhh… because of the murder.

Now that got my attention.

@sullyGray How did you know about that?

@tinaM Word gets around. Even in out here. What was her name? Danika? Did you know her? I know Crimson Ridge is a small campus.

I don't want to talk about it. I don't want to talk about Danika. None of it. Of all the people to know about it, why did one of them have to be Tina from California?

@sullyGray Umm… not really. I had a class with her.

@tinaM History?

I blink a few times and stare at the screen. There's no way she knew that.

The cursor blinks a few times as I try my best to think of something to write back. And would this headache ever go away?

@tinaM I guess your plans for today are to ignore me ;)

What the heck?

@sullyGray How did you know I had history class with Danika?
My heart pounds in my ears while I wait for her reply. There is no way she can know about it. Something is going on here. I know it.

@tinaM Huh?

@sullyGray History. You said I knew Danika from history and I wanted to know how you knew that… So, how?

@tinaM Um… what are you talking about? I asked, "What's the plan for the rest of the day?"Who's Danika?

@sullyGray What? No.

I scroll up so I can copy and paste exactly what she wrote to show her I didn't imagine it. I keep scrolling. And scrolling.

I pause and start to read back down.

@tinaM You already home? Shouldn't you be in class?

@sullyGray Yeah… early classes today.

@tinaM Really? I thought your schedule was full. Some sort of math after history??

@sullyGray Not today. Canceled.

@tinaM Ahhh, awesome! You get a break! Fun and sun, baby, fun and sun.

@sullyGray How did you know about that?

@tinaM Know about what?

@sullyGray Umm… not really. I had a class with her.

@tinaM Gracen, you are acting really weird. You okay?

@tinaM I guess your plans for today are to ignore me ;)

I re-read over and over, trying to find where Tina talked about Danika and the murders. I know I read it. I saw it… I SAW it!

My computer dings, which means Tina has sent me another message.

@tinaM Ok… u are really starting to scare me. Is something wrong? Are you feeling okay?

No, I'm not. I can't trust anything anymore. Nothing. Not my eyes. Not my ears. I see things that aren't there. I see different people. I read different words. And I'm pretty sure my head is going to explode. Migraine! I think someone has driven a spike through my temples.

@sullyGray I'm fine. I'm just… I need sleep… lots of sleep. I need to get off here and do that. Sorry for being weird. Talk to you later.

There's me being honest. My nightmare- and Hart-killing pill is already doing its job, and my eyes are slowly drooping. The screen starts to do a weird rolling dance thing, and my head lulls to the side. I'll be drooling in no time.

I hear the ding. Tina has messaged me something. I can't make my eyes open to read it.

Hart smiles at me.

I
T'S COLD.
I
T'S ALWAYS
cold on that stupid aluminum table. Clothes would be nice or a blanket or, hey, how about not a cold aluminum table! The brown leather straps with the weird black symbols drawn on them are around both ankles, my knees, and my waist, covering my most private area, though I'm sure Hart has seen it. How else would he get me strapped to the table if he didn't see things? Or did I just appear like this to him? He'd be all minding his business and, BAM, a naked girl comes flying down strapped to the table.

If I could ever get so lucky.

There is something different about tonight, or rather today. For one thing, it's in the daytime. A few rays of the sunshine beam through the tiny, dingy window to my left. The room looks brighter, if that's possible. Not much brighter because of the torture chamber. But still, a bit brighter.

I think it goes without saying that I've always terribly disliked Hart. He scares me. I mean the dude eats my body parts nightly. It's horrible and it hurts. Really, really bad. But, there's always a part of me that knows I'm dreaming and knows I'll eventually wake up with all my organs intact. Yeah, it sucks, it SUCKS, but I know that's what's going to happen. It's what keeps me going. Through the pain and the whatever, I know it isn't real and I
will
wake up.

Except today is different. I've seen Hart, or some version of him, in my real life. He isn't just some
thing
in my head anymore. I talked to him. Others talked to him. It wasn't exactly him. It was some dude named Gabriel, but I have this feeling, a big nagging one in my stomach, that maybe I'm not entirely crazy. I saw it in Lucien's eyes. He knows something. I know he does.

Or maybe it's just wishful thinking.

If my own personal demon Hart
is
real, that not only ups the weird factor, it ups the loss of control factor.

If I can't wake up and be away from him, then that means he can get me. It means he can get me even when I'm not asleep. It means this is so much worse than I thought.

It is one thing when something in your head is trying to kill you. It's another thing when the thing literally can kill you.

"You think too much." Hart stands at my side and clicks his tongue. His red eyes are back. Oh, goody. He couldn't have kept the brown ones? He wasn't as scary with them. Wasn't as scary wearing Gabriel either.

I mumble something against my mouth strap, and he slides it down so I can actually talk. "Why do you bother putting this thing on me if you just move it?"

"Oh, you want it back?" He attempts to put it back over my mouth, and I squirm away.

"No. Thanks."

He smirks and lets the strap fall loosely against my neck. "For the record, the straps go wherever you put them. I have no control over that. Because if I did—" he pointed to the chest area and the waist area "—these two straps would disappear."

"Good to know." I clear my throat and try to find my spot on the ceiling. It's grown. It always grows. I refuse to look in the mirror. I don't want to see myself. I imagine it isn't pretty.

From the corner of my eye, I see Hart shake his head. "You didn't go to class today."

"What's it to you?"

"You came home and chose to sleep instead. Really, sweetheart? Was that smart?"

I hear him sharpen the knives. My stomach gets sick. I've never gotten use to this. The sounds. The smells. Sometimes I hear and smell them when I'm not even asleep. I hate it. I hate him.

"I took my anti-nightmare pill. I thought I was safe."

"No, you didn't." He lays the knife on my stomach. The coolness makes my body buckle, and I try to move away. He leaves it there. "You knew I'd be here."

"I did not."

"I think you missed me."

"I think you're crazy." How in the world could I miss him? How can I miss something that kills me every night?

"I never kill you." He corrects. Had I said that out loud? "Not technically."

Oh good. He's bantering. I pinch my middle finger with the nail on my right hand to see if I can wake up. It's never worked before, but I'm all for trying. Tired or not, I don't feel like having a conversation with him.

"What do you want?"

"I could ask you the same question."

"Why were you in Professor Mitchell's class today?"

"Was I?"

Why hasn't he sliced something by now? "What I want is to wake up so I can go about my day. No, scratch that. What I want is to sleep and actually have a freakin' dream about rainbows and kittens or some hot guy…"

"I'm hot."

I so don't stop and acknowledge that. "Or, you know, I'd take a new nightmare with killer clowns coming to eat my face."