The Hidden (sample)

Chapter Three

Chapter Three

EMILY

It took a second to get over his verbal slap in the face, and I sat there, shocked. I was the bitchy one? Did that seriously just happen?

Heat blazed across my skin as I tensed, my nails digging into my palms as my fists clenched. I bit my bottom lip until I tasted blood, trying to refrain from giving in to what my middle school counselor called my “violent tendencies.” At least that’s what he wrote in my permanent record. It also stated that I bite.

The Incident, as it came to be known, happened in sixth grade, when I was eleven and Chris Donaldson kicked my chair as he walked past my desk. It was an accident–I knew that–but at the time, I didn’t care. Something inside me snapped, and rage filled me within half a second.

I got out of my seat and lunged at Chris, knocking him down to the ground and pinning him there as I beat the living hell out of him. It took three teachers to pry me off and now each one had a crescent, mouth-shaped scar courtesy of yours truly.

Was I sorry? Absolutely. Chris Donaldson didn’t deserve that. I still felt like shit for what I did to him, and I always would. I really couldn’t explain why it happened, either. I remembered every second of it, but it was like someone else had taken over me.

And the really fucked-up thing was that a small part of me enjoyed it. It enjoyed making someone my bitch. I mean, what the hell, right?

Thankfully, it had never happened again. Sure, there were times I’d get really upset and just want to break everything in sight, but who didn’t feel a little stabby every once in a while?

However, this guy was seriously asking for a fist to the face.

Before I could stop myself, I flung my bag over my shoulder and ran into the crowded hallway. I had no idea which direction he went. I stood on my tip-toes, trying to scan the top of the crowd, and finally spotted him through the exit doors, heading down the outside steps.

I ran after him, weaving in and out of people, but it was only when I caught up to him that I realized I didn’t know what to say. I was so mad and infuriated that I was at a loss for words. After all, how could you articulate the desire to nut-punch someone?

I settled with the first thing that came to mind.

*   *   *

THOMAS

My skin tightened at the sound of rushing feet behind me.

It’s not who you think it is. It’s not–

The girl’s shrill, demanding voice broke through my train of thought. “What the fuck?” She grabbed my arm, and I tensed, causing her to release me.

My nostrils flared as I seethed in silence. “Your eloquence makes up for your lack of common decency, no doubt about it.”

“What the hell is your problem? You don’t even know me!”

I knew enough. She was just like the rest of them–spoiled, manipulative, and completely narcissistic. In other words, she was not worth my time, not worth wasting the air in my lungs just to tell her to go to hell.

But that didn’t mean it wouldn’t feel good. I turned to face her, not bothering in the slightest to mask my contempt. “I doubt there’s much to know.”

She gasped as her eyes widened.

Good. It was about time she got the message that not everyone was going to ask “how high?” whenever she said “jump.” Only…shouldn’t she look more angry or offended? Instead, she looked–

“Your eyes,” she breathed.

Shocked. She looked completely and utterly shocked.

My eye color must have darkened. They did that on occasion, usually when we were very angry or very turned on. To us, it was normal, so why…?

I searched her face for any other emotion, but only saw wide eyes and a frozen, gaping expression. Like a deer caught in the headlights.

This didn’t make sense. She was a Healer. She should be accustomed to our changing eye color, not reacting like she’d never seen it before. So why did she react like…a human?

I’d vaguely noticed people staring, but hadn’t realized we’d caused such a scene until some guy walked up to her. He wrapped his arm around the girl’s shoulders and stared me down, asking, “Everything okay, Emily?”

Emily?

The tension left me as I stared at the girl. Could this be...the Emily? She had the same dark hair, pale skin, hazel eyes, and this was the town I’d met her in, after all. How old should she be now?

I quickly tried to do the math in my head. 

That was, what...thirteen years ago? And the little girl had been... 

Shit, I had no clue. For all I knew, she could’ve been anywhere from five to nine–

The birthmark!

My eyes darted to the spot on her neck, just under her ear, as my head tilted, trying to see around the guy’s inconveniently placed arm. 

Jesus Christ.

There it was–a small, light brown heart dotting her otherwise porcelain skin. I breathed her name with the remaining air in my lungs.

Her eyes narrowed, looking at me like I’d lost my mind. “Yeah…?”

It had occurred to me that she could still be here, but I thought the chances of running into her were too astronomical. She’d grown up beautifully. And I was a dirty, dirty bastard for my lewd thoughts earlier.

Shit…

I looked at the ground, rubbing the back of my neck as I stepped back. “I have to go.” My voice came out quiet, having lost most of my gusto. I didn’t wait for her to say anything, I just turned and started in the opposite direction.

This would explain the faint scent of the female I’d come across that day in the woods. Healer children always had very faint scents. It intensified the closer they got to maturing, and if Emily’s scent was any indication, hers was right around the corner.

I thought back to that day, to the child that had such an impact on my life. It was my encounter with her that made me realize how lonely I’d really been, and I’d decided that night to end my self-imposed exile and return to humanity.

But why had she been in a human suburb, with a human grandmother? And why didn’t she seem to remember me?