Once Bitten (An Anya Maynard Novel)

Chapter Ten

It happens to a lot of people before they have an epileptic seizure, hallucinations. There was a famous writer who swore his best ideas came just before he’d have an episode and would purposely induce one just for the visions. Most who suffer from this condition see different things, bright lights or melting pictures before every episode. But occasionally, like me, it’s the same thing.

It’s not a given, the hallucinations. Sometimes them come, sometimes they don’t. And I never had one until that night in that abandoned house. But once, when I was undergoing treatment at a children’s hospital, I met a girl who had the same hallucination every time she slipped into her seizures. We were both children, not even ten years old either of us, and she said she would see God just before an episode. That he would reach out to hold her while she shook, it’s why her seizures didn’t bother her. She believed because God was so powerful that it was hard for him to control his power when he held her and that’s why she shook.

I wonder if she still believes that now.

Me, well apparently I see glowing amber eyes.

I rolled over in bed and pulled the covers back over my aching body. I hated this part, the day after. The body aches from the uncontrolled muscle spasms, my head feeling as if it would split itself in two simply from the stress of the event, and the awful aftertaste in my mouth. I didn’t always bite my tongue, but when I did I would chomp it good and make it bleed. With the sour metallic taste coating my mouth I had to assume this was one of those times.

I reached out with closed eyes and fumbled around for the glass of water I kept on the nightstand next to my bed; clock, watch, papers, ah water.

Wait, I thought as I shot my eyes open. I didn’t own a watch.

And this wasn’t my room.

I practically leapt off the bed, pressing myself against the headboard as I pulled the covers up to protect me. Not that a fluffy white comforter was really going to stop anything more than a breeze. I frantically looked around at the unfamiliar space, my body protesting from the quick movement. Simple furnishings, a worn braided rug in front of the king sized bed, a couple of tall boys...all the furniture looked as roughly hewed as the floor boards. There was a single window to my right, nothing overly large with a sheer yellow panel over it. This had to be a man's bedroom, if it was a woman's I'm sure there would have been something more...personal in the space like a painting or pictures...That’s when I noticed the now wet note thanks to the spilled glass on the nightstand, with my name on it. 

I continued to look suspiciously around as I snatched it out of it puddle, waiting for something to jump out at me. I squished it between the blanket a couple of times to remove the excess water before opening it, my head shaking in disbelief as I read it;

Anya,

I’m sorry I cannot be there to explain what happened when you wake up, but I need you to stay here until I return. I don’t know how much you remember, but there was an incident at the diner. It’s being taken care of but you have to stay here, where it is safe.

They are looking for us so you cannot return to your apartment. I retrieved a few items for you so there would be no immediate need.

There is plenty of food in the house, please, feel free to make yourself comfortable. I’ll be back as soon as I can to explain.

 Connor

I dropped my hand in my lap and fell back against the headboard in shock. Connor’s, I was at Connor’s house, in Connor’s bed.

But why can’t I remember coming here, I looked around the room, wherever here is.

I looked back at the note, at the words he had crossed out. “At home” was replaced with “comfortable”, “with you” replaced with “be there”. He crossed out all the things that made the note personal. Again I shook my head, that wasn’t the part I should be worrying about. How about, they’re looking for me. That was a little more important.