tricks of time ― grayson hawthorne [the inheritance games]

018. DISTORTED MEMORIES

A sharp gasp.

That's me, my voice, my breath, and my heart racing. What happened to my head? Why is it so heavy?   My eyes are rapidly closing and they're sticking together. I try to clear the haze— try to remember— but parts of me still feel numb, and I laugh, suddenly, and I don't know why— for no apparent reason.

I was raped.

My skin breaks into a chilly sweat as my eyes bolt wide. Oh my God, I was raped, I was raped, I was raped.

I can't sit up. I feel so heavy, so heavy with blood and bone and suddenly I'm freezing, my skin feels like cold rubber and clammy skin. I want to cry all at once. And then I'm back in my father's run down trailer, the cold and the metal and the pain and the delirium all confusing me and then I'm mourning, silently, hot tears warming my cheeks and I can't speak, but I'm scared and I hear him. I haven't heard his voice in so long. My eyes are closed and my lips are parted in a quiet fear. It's been a long time since I've been haunted like this.

Another jolt to my senses, and I'm more aware, more myself, terror clearing the poison for just a brief second of clarity, and I'm able to push myself up, onto my elbows, head spinning, eyes wild as they scan my surroundings.

I can't anymore. I lie back down, exhausted. "I'm cold," I say, as I lie down again. Why is it so cold?

In a flash of serotonin, I'm so warm now. Warm and tired and then drowning again in the strangest dreams and distorted memories. I feel like I'm swimming in quicksand and the harder I pull away, the more quickly I am devoured and all I can think is here in the dark, dusty corners of my mind, I feel a strange sort of relief. I will never forget.

Then I'm out again.

___

I feel strange now.I feel slow, like I'm wading through mud, like my boneshave filled with lead and my head, oh— I flinch. My head has never been heavier. I wonder if it's the last dregs of the poison still haunting my veins, but something feels wrong with me today.

My memories of my time in the trailer with my father in that trailer park are suddenly too vivid—perched too prominently in the forefront of my memory. I thought I'd pushed those memories out of my mind, but they've reappeared, dug from the shadows. I shiver uncontrollably. Jerk upward involuntarily.

I'm gone again. Head spinning. Eyes closed against the light and the sunshine that is probably reflecting on my face, against the stained glass in beautiful hues of every color imaginable.

GRAYSON'S POV

I felt a clap on my shoulder. "Nice work, Gray," I heard Nash say. "You're improving quickly."

I gave a nod. "Thanks," I said as I took off my helmet, my sticky hair-tearing into shreds and sticking to the sweat on my brow. I wiped it away with my fencing suit, which I was desperate to remove. I pressed my face against the fan, savoring the refreshing sensation of calm and coolness. As I showered, I felt the stickiness leave my body and the scent of the cologne cover my body. As much as I didn't want to, I forced myself into a suit.

I tried to jog up the stairs once I was clean, but I faltered as I winced and placed my hand to my side, remembering where Nash had hit me hard. I ended up walking up the stairs and I turned the corner to the library. Was this the library we were working at? Or was it the one upstairs?

I pause for a few moments. No, it was definitely this one.

"James? Leah?" I say. I heard scuffling inside. Eventually I push open the door and I feel my eyes widen and my body go cold when I see Leah. I felt a familiar feeling of deja vu as I remember her sprawled out, passed out and drunk, a few weeks ago. Yet again, her legs are sprawled out in front of her, and she's leaning with her back propped up on the bed.