Torn (15 page)

Whatever spotlight I felt shining on me when we walked in was nothing compared to the microscope I’d now been shoved under. Who were they to assume I would intentionally hurt Lucas? Did they know about what happened with Ethan and me, and think that was my fault, too? Did they think I’d used him and forced him to push me away?

I needed to get out of there. I needed to leave. I was having
a hard
time breathing. It felt like the walls were closing in on me. My head spun and I needed air. What must they think of me? Were they judging me, taunting me?
God help me.
I searched desperately around the room for an escape.

As if he read my mind, Scott held up his hand. “I think you’re misunderstanding my father. He doesn’t think you would intentionally hurt anyone. The problem, so to speak, seems to be the power of your gifts. Power without training can be dangerous. Without training, the strength of your gifts may increase
or decrease depending on the level of emotion you’re
feeling. It is these emotions we must understand if we are to participate in your training. We need to know what, exactly, we’re dealing with.”

Dealing with
?
What am I, some common thug
?

As quickly as they came, the thoughts faded. While his choice of words made it sound like I was no more than a pest control problem, there was no accusation in his tone, no judgmental vibe. He didn’t think I did it on purpose.

I looked down at my once-manicured hands and thought back to the kitchen incident. Was it only a few months ago? It felt like a lifetime. “Lucas and Ethan were telling me about my father, what he was and...I didn’t believe them. I tried to leave the kitchen, but Lucas stood in front of me. I remember him asking me to try to understand. He didn’t want me to leave until I’d accepted what they were telling me. I think I said that I would hurt him if he didn’t move and that’s when the window shattered.”

Tears welled up in my eyes and I didn’t fight them. “I didn’t mean to—I didn’t mean to hurt him. It’s just...my dad had just died. I’d overheard discussions about moving me into the middle of nowhere to train for something that, at the time, I didn’t know anything about. I was tired—
I am tired
.

“My best friend is a freaking angel. How would you feel if your whole world screeched to a halt and then was dismembered by the revelation that your life had not been what you’d thought? That everything had been a lie?”

The longer I rambled the higher my voice got. I could feel myself going over the edge, but I just couldn’t stop. “How could I’ve not known any of this? Why didn’t my dad tell me? Sometimes I feel like I’m a zombie—like I don’t have control over my own body. Other times I feel more alive than I ever have.
And the voices.
The voices won’t stop—”

I completely lost it and curled up into a ball and sobbed as all the weight of the past few months crashed down. From my dad, to Lucas and Ethan’s angelic reality, to betraying Lucas, to fighting the hate I should’ve felt for Ethan after he so casually cast me aside. The training, the physical stress, the constant voices, the dreams,
the
realization that tomorrow was my eighteenth birthday...I couldn’t hold up anymore. I felt broken and lost and tired.
Just so tired.

The last thing I remembered was Ethan picking me up and carrying me to bed. I slept a dreamless sleep for the first time in forever.

CHAPTER 13

I awoke the next morning as the first light of day fought its way through the heavy curtains in my room. It took a few moments to remember where I was, and why we’d come here. As I allowed my eyes to focus in the waning darkness, my mind raced with thoughts of what was in store for me as father’s protection dissipated. Would it slowly end, or would I suddenly have a visible target on my chest? Would I be able to feel this shield leave me? Would it be painless? Whatever it would be, I felt as if I had a stronger bond with my father, and I knew I would mourn this connection when it passed. I didn’t know when—an hour from now?
Two?
At eleven-fifty-nine tonight?
All I knew was that at some point that day I would be a walking bulls-eye.

Mortified that I had freaked out like that in front of Jesse and Scott, I pulled the covers over my head. Lucas and Ethan knew me, though a year ago I wasn’t the wimpy, cry-at-the-drop-of-a-hat mess that I’d become. Since we’d lived together for the past six months, they’d grown accustomed to my crazy outbursts of anger, fear and sadness—I called “her” the new Samantha.

I would never in a million years show strangers what I exhibited last night. I wondered what they thought of me, not that it mattered or would change what happened. But what if it did matter?

Ugh!
Again with the wishy-washiness.
I was losing control and wanted to scream.

There were days I felt great and in command of my emotions and physical self. But more and more often, there were other days where I was certainly not in charge of the ship. I did odd, out of character things. Like that whole episode—had it only been two days ago?—with Ethan. What was
that
? I couldn’t say it wasn’t a welcome distraction, however. And the day I beat the hell out of the heavy bag, what got into my head then? And again, the night before, when I broke into a sobbing mess of rollercoaster emotions. I needed to get a grip before I fell off the deep end for good.

I could feel the puffiness of my eyes and dreaded facing anyone. What should’ve been a great day,
my
day, would, I feared, probably be the worst of my life.

Shifting in my bed a bit, I heard the muffled sounds of someone moving around downstairs. Forcing myself to disengage from all my wallowing, I dragged myself out of bed. Not wanting to turn on the light, as I felt like I needed a few more minutes of anonymity, I squinted at my surroundings, looking for my duffle then pulled out a pair of cargo pants and a long sleeve t-shirt. My room was freezing and my feet were so cold that I grabbed the thickest socks I owned and slipped a fleece over my t-shirt. Hair brushed and pulled back, boots tied, I no longer had an excuse for moping around in that strange, cold room so I walked downstairs, attempting to prepare my brain for an intense who-knew-what.

Still groggy, I moved slowly down the old, creaky stairs and meekly walked into the kitchen. Jesse was making enough breakfast for an army. I remembered the house was now filled with four men and Jesse had prepared accordingly. But the thought of eating anything right then made my stomach revolt. I wasn’t sure if I’d even be able to choke down a piece of dry toast. All I wanted was coffee.
Black.

“Good morning, Jesse,” I mumbled as I walked to the coffee pot, rummaged through the cabinets, and searched for a mug.

“Good morning, Sam. How did you sleep? Was the bed comfortable enough? Were you cold at all?”

Smiling a bit at the fatherly way Jesse voiced his concerns, I managed to croak out, “Everything was great, Jesse. Thank you.”

“Can I get you anything? I wasn’t sure what you’d eat so I made a few things. Not like any of it will go to waste either. Those boys have huge appetites.”

“Coffee would be great to start. I think I need to wake up before I can make a decision between those pancakes and French toast.”

Jesse laughed easily as he opened a cabinet I hadn’t searched yet, pulled out a mug, and poured me a huge steaming cup of coffee that tasted like heaven. I shuffled to the table and watched him busy himself with a few more things before he, too, picked up a cup of coffee and sat down across from me. He was contemplating something and whatever it was, he was taking his time finding the words.
Fine with me.
The silence wasn’t at all uncomfortable considering I had only met
this man hours
ago and had dissolved into a sobbing, fetal-positioned mess during said meeting. Not my proudest moment.

I should’ve apologized but I needed to gauge his reaction first. I decided to let the silence envelope us and waited for him to say whatever it was that was on his mind. I was pretty sure I could’ve waited all day.

It wasn’t until we were on our second cup that he finally spoke. “You’ll be training with me this morning, Sam. I know you and I’ve just met but I feel, in this case, it would be better if I were to take over your training for today. I’d like to see what we have to work with. Plus, I’m pretty sure I can answer a few things the boys can’t. After today, I think we’ll rotate the training between
myself
, Scott, Lucas, and Ethan. Each of us has a strength that would allow us to, sort of, personalize your instruction. How do you feel about that?”

Somehow I knew he would say something like that so I wasn’t surprised at his suggestion. “Whatever you think is best, Jesse. I’ve only just begun to realize what’s been going on. I just need to get a hold on all the confusion that’s been swirling in my head.
Light.
Dark.
Angels. Hope.
Exiled.
Faithful.
There’s so much I don’t know, so much I don’t understand. I know I was brought here for my safety. Lucas and Ethan have been so worried, and at this point I’d do anything to ease their concerns. Just tell me what you want me to do, and I’ll try my best to do it.”

Seemingly satisfied with my answer, he stood and walked over to the counter. He carried back a huge stack of pancakes and told me to eat up. I still couldn’t even fathom eating anything, but I figured I’d better do as he said since he was in charge of me for the day. The word “babysitter” popped into my head.

“You’ll need the strength,” he said. “I’m going up to get ready. We’ll be leaving soon. I’ve already packed sandwiches for us as we won’t be home until dinner. Meet you out front in twenty minutes.”

I felt like I needed to say something. I didn’t want him to think I was going to fall apart every time something got difficult. I needed to at least put up a front of strength, if not for any other reason than to convince myself. “Jesse, I want to apologize for last night.”

“Don’t mention it. It’s been awhile since we’ve had crying girls in the house but I don’t think it will be the last.”

With a wink, he turned away but looked back quickly.
“Happy Birthday, Samantha.”

He left the room, and I sat with nothing but a stack of golden, buttery pancakes to keep me company. Silently singing “Happy Birthday” to myself, I decided to just go with it. I dug in. Hunger kind of crept up on me, and I began eating like an animal.

It wasn’t until I was rinsing my plate that Scott strode in. He looked troubled and tired and wasn’t much for eye contact. If anyone didn’t get any sleep, it was certainly Scott. I handed him a cup of coffee and without so much as a thank you, he took it and abruptly walked out of the room. I turned back to the sink and muttered, “You’re welcome,” sarcastically under my breath when a whispered voice at my ear made me jump and stifle a scream.

“Talking to
yourself
again? You know that’s not healthy.”

“God, Ethan. What is
with
you? Is it your job in life to make me jump out of my skin?” He was standing so close my heart threatened to beat out of my chest. At least I wasn’t getting the silent treatment, but then again, maybe I should’ve been the one giving him icy silence. But I just couldn’t. And why did he look so sad?

He laughed uneasily as he reached around me to pick up a mug off the counter, brushing against me as he did. “No. That’s not my job. It’s funny, though.” He ducked as I threw a dishtowel at him.

“It’s not funny.”

“It’s a little funny.” He was so close I could feel his heart beat.
“Happy Birthday, Sam.”

How could two people be standing so close without actually touching one another? I forgot I was supposed to be angry with him. Or was it hurt and disappointed? Or was he supposed to be angry with me?
For Christ’s sake.
Now I knew what my dad meant all those times when he talked about teenage girls with their drama and feelings and angst. Oh my God? Was I one of those girls?

I whispered, “Thank you.”

“Listen, Sam. Can we talk later? I think I need to explain a few things.”

Heart in my throat, I suddenly lacked the ability to speak so I just nodded.

“What’s up? How’s the birthday girl?” Lucas came in the room and sat down next to Ethan. My eyes threatened to bulge out of my head. How the hell did Ethan get to the table so quickly? And why were my knees suddenly wobbly and unsteady? I turned to busy myself with drying my plate.

“Sam is annoyed because Scott is being his usual charming self.”

Lucas grinned a bit and told me not to worry about it. Scott was, he assured me, always like that.

“Well, he doesn’t have to be rude.”

“True,” Ethan piped up. “But he is and he will be until he decides not to be. Really, Sam, Lucas is right. Don’t worry about it. Anyway, how’re you doing? Feeling any better at all?”

I couldn’t think. I was still unsure of what to do now that Ethan had ended his twenty-four hour festival of silence. I had training to do and with my awesome display the night before, I needed Jesse to see that I was ready. I threw the dishtowel on the counter and turned to the boys. “Well, whatever. You two find your own breakfast. Jesse certainly gave you enough choices. I have to get ready. And yes, thanks. I am feeling a little better. I don’t know what came over me.”