Break Me // ONC 2022

CHAPTER SIX

A gray sliver of light peeks through the white curtains of my bedroom. I gasp, throwing the covers up to see what's on my body. Yoga pants and a t-shirt. When and how did I get dressed? I sit up, way too fast and nearly go crashing back down. My head throbs with the consequences of my actions, and I let out a groan.

In the distance sirens wail, but mostly there's nothing but quiet. I try to run through the events of the previous evening. Trish and I danced, then - that guy, that kiss. I touch my lips to see if it's real, it's like I can still feel him there.

My phone on the bedside table lights up with messages. A few from last night. One from Trish telling me goodnight, and that she was the one who helped me into my clothes. She was as drunk as I was, how did she even get home? Another from Trish confirms how we did. Jaime saved us. Apparently, he saw me wasted off my ass and decided it was his responsibility to take me home. I stare at the message for several seconds. I didn't even see Jaime or maybe... no it wasn't him, couldn't be. If it was him, then he was the one I kissed. I lower my head and smack my face.

The last message was from around three in the morning, stating she was in love and had been texting with Fred all night, since getting home. I smile at that.

The sirens sound closer, there's more of them now. The silence here in the house is almost as loud as the sirens. The day feels weird. I make my way to the window. A dense gray fog blankets the entire town. It's so thick I can barely see the neighbors.

I'm about to turn away when out of the dense fog - two - no four - ten - that's a lot of red eyes, appear out of nowhere. Closing the curtains, I throw myself against the wall. My chest heaves as if I've been running. I wait a few more moments before checking again and nothing. GRANDMA!

I shout her name and stumble out of the room, still feeling a little drunk. I almost miss the first step but catch myself before I fall. My feet pad with an intense thump all the way down.

"Grandma!" I shout again.

Fear grips me like a snake strangling its prey. I skid into the kitchen and my heart stops in my chest. Sitting at the small round table in the center of the room is Jaime. Grandma shuffles over from behind the old white fridge, a fresh glass of orange juice in her hand.

Jaime's eyes meet mine and there's something about them today that pulls me in more than most days. There are worry lines on his forehead, but they vanish when his eyes land on my t-shirt. It's white, ratty, probably has a hole or two, but then I glance down and notice that I'm NOT wearing a bra. That's just wonderful. I cover my chest with my arms.

"Oh, good you're awake," Grandma says, there's a smile behind her eyes, but it's not her usual warm one.

"Is uh - why is - is everything okay?" I stumble over my words.

Jaime's lips say it all without even moving. They are pressed tightly together. His jaw twitches and I know there's something wrong.

"You should sit."

I'm confused at why he's here, and why grandma has served him with French toast and juice. The empty space beside him holds a full plate of the same meal. I slide into the spot. I feel bad, this food probably won't even make it into my stomach. It's not only because the sweet smell is sickening to my hungover stomach, but also because whatever is happening is bigger than I imagined.

"More people have died. It's good we left when we did. There were so many people mulling around in the early morning, stumbling home from all of the celebrations throughout the town, and there's casualties." He lowers his head.

"What do you mean?"

Lifting only his eyes he stares at me. There's a tingle on my lips. Jaime.

"All of the deaths that have been happening. There are more. The town is on strict lock-down."

"So then how are you-"

"Here? I dropped off your friend and came back, slept in my car." He narrows his eyes at me.

"But why? That's so stalker-ish."

A monotone chuckle shakes him. "I wanted to make sure you were safe."

"Okay, Edward Cullen. Did you watch me sleep too?"

Out of the corner of my eyes I watch grandma's attention bounce between the two of us. Even through her serious gaze, she lets go of a small smile.

"No, I did not. I don't crawl into the windows of women I like, that's creepy."

"And sleeping outside my house isn't?"

Wait, he said women I like. No. That's not the point here. The point is, something is happening, and if Jaime and grandma are worried, then I have a feeling we're all doomed.

"I know you see them."

Is it possible to stop breathing yet still live? Because that's exactly how I feel right now. I'm still a statue, not blinking, just observing. If I tell him my secret, will it trigger some sort of massive explosion?

"How can you - how can you say that?"

"Go ahead, try."

I open my mouth to speak but close it again.

"I -" Pausing, I glance back at grandma, and it's like she knew this the whole time.

Her eyes fall on the necklace still dangling from my neck.

"I see them. They walk during the day. I don't know what they do, it's like they're vampires - but not. They're not supposed to be out during the day. I shouldn't be able to see them. They stand over the bodies of the ones they've killed like they're bragging. I - but how can I?"

A blanket of what feels like a million emotions hit me at once. Jaime's hand rests over mine. His face, his body, everything is so close. Looking down, his eyes land on the ring digging into the top of my hand. I grab hold of the necklace around me.

Death tolls will rise, until the other half of the gem is restored.

"But how, how do we..."

He shrugs. "I haven't figured that part out yet."

I sit back needing the space. Bile rises in my throat. I allow his hand to stay on mine. I'm comforted by it.

"Do we know who was killed?"

"No, not yet."

"Do you think Trish is okay? You brought her home, right?"

He nods. "I think she's safe."

I swallow hard fighting with the knot stuck in my throat. My cheeks burn as I try to fight the tears, but they find a way to slip by. One makes it, sliding down my cheek, dropping off my jawline. A second and third and then a whole river. Lifting his hand off mine he wipes them away, discarding them. I lean into his touch, my heart knowing things, but not saying them out loud.

"We'll figure this out. Together. Your grandma says there's a box downstairs. Your parents, they kept journals."

I look over at her. She's quietly sipping on her tea.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

She puts the white cat mug down on the table. "I wasn't able to speak about it either."

Andjust like that, my whole world, everything I knew or thought I knew crumblesaround me. Only, there's still some pieces left standing, and as I glance intoJaime's amber stare there's a sense of calm that surrounds me, like I'm safe,and like we are going to solve this, or we'll die trying.