Hidden and Silent (SpyxFamily)

Ch. 7: Part Three

They came to the line where Anya and her parents were supposed to split from the boys, but Demetrius held out his hand to her in silent invitation.

Anya stopped. Her parents stopped. She stared at the hand that reached out to her as if it was a tether between worlds.

She shouldn't. She shouldn't, she shouldn't. She didn't want to. She wanted to, she didn't. She couldn't.

Why was this so hard?

Demetrius flicked his fingers towards him, telling her to hurry up. As if it was already decided she would come.

She risked looking up at him and everything in his eyes told her this was a good idea.

She didn't believe him.

But it was Demetrius.

She wanted that hand. That hand that she could cling to without worry or anxiety. A hand that would feel okay to hold.

Anya thought she might cry. Why did it make her want to cry? Her chest was tight and she couldn't make a decision.

It felt so wrong.

"You comin'?" Demetrius said and she returned her gaze to his hand.

If she took his hand . . .would it make it easier? If she went with him, would it hurt less? She had never wanted solidarity from another esper so much in her life and he was offering his hand.

But her world. She would be stepping out of it. And into the next.

She didn't know that she could. The barrier seemed impossible to cross.

But his hand.

It was calloused and sinewy as if all he did every day was work with his hands. It looked so safe. Like everything might be better if she took it.

She wanted that hand.

And as she relinquished her parent's grip, they sparked with surprise as her fingers left theirs.

And took hold of Demetrius'.

Suddenly, she was in both worlds and she immediately grated in rejection. It was so wrong. It was so, so wrong. She shouldn't be here. She shouldn't be doing this. Her skin crawled and she nearly removed herself from Demetrius, but once he took hold, he didn't let go.

He gave another look. As if saying everything was fine. To not back out.

She didn't like this. But didn't argue.

She had Demetrius' hand and it connected her. As if Anya remained in her world and Demetrius had reached through both worlds to her.

She didn't like this. But she had Demetrius' hand and it wasn't quite as hard or unnatural when she was holding it.

They joined the end of the line.

Every second waiting was another second to rethink. To let go and wash herself of this unholy, slimy, crawling feeling that stuck to her and repulsed and agitated every nerve and brain cell.

It felt so wrong, it was so wrong. She shouldn't be doing this.

She didn't want to release Demetrius' hand.

It was so wrong. And being around Demetrius felt so right. It was like she had finally found somewhere safe. Somewhere comfortable and natural. Someplace where she should be. Someone that was like her. Someone she was supposed to be around. Like he'd come to keep her company in the pit and taken the shovel out of her hands. Like he'd come to hold her hand when no one else could so she wouldn't be alone.

This felt so wrong. And she didn't want to let go of Demetrius.

They reached the front and he gave tickets to the operator. Anya's parents did the same behind.

Demetrius led her and Damian through and Anya tensed. They were about to board and it was so, so wrong. She grasped at her coat with her free hand.

This was so wrong.

She should go. She should let go, she should let go and leave. She didn't like this. She should let go.

But Demetrius held tight and she doubted he would even notice if she tried.

He held tight.

He had her hand.

He held tight and he wouldn't let go. He held tight, he wouldn't let go, and it was better than if he hadn't. As if he was taking responsibility. As if he was saying it was fine.

She would've turned back if he hadn't.

This felt so wrong.

But she had Demetrius' hand.

Anya, Damian, and Demetrius took seats in the fifth car, and Anya's parents took the one behind them. The interior had two benches facing each other, each seating two. Demetrius and Anya sat in one, while Damian sat in the middle across from them.

After the operator came by to tightly lock all the doors closed, the train set off.

Wind whipped through any and every opening to gently brush across Anya's face and rustle her hair. It was mostly fresh, but hints of buttery popcorn and hot dogs occasionally filled her nose. She let it distract her from Damian who was looking at her again.

This was getting old.

He thought she was being weird again and was searching for something in her face to explain what just happened back there. She was confusing and trying to figure Anya out was starting to become an obsession. When he thought he finally understood something, there was always something else to confuse him even more. She made little sense to him and Anya didn't understand why he cared so much.

He wanted to be friends. That was probably why.

When Anya met his gaze, he didn't turn away like she expected and held it instead.

He'd been quite openly watching her lately. It was weird. And Anya didn't know how to take it. He didn't seem to care if she caught him, as if looking her in the eyes could give him deeper insight. He looked at her like he wanted to say something, like he wanted to do something, but he didn't know what. He wanted to be friends and though he'd manipulated her presence here, he had no idea how to advance that.

That was fine with Anya.

Damian flicked his eyes to Demetrius then to the window, staying that way for most of the ride.

The train rattled on for several minutes around the park, providing a view of most of the rides. Eventually, it circled back to the beginning and it squealed to a stop like a real train might.

Anya was glad for it to be over.

When they alighted from the locomotive, she still held onto Demetrius' hand. When her parents joined them off the ride, she still held his hand. When someone suggested the ferris wheel, she didn't want to ride again, but she still held his hand.

They came to the ferris wheel, and she didn't want to go. She began to sweat. That feeling crawled on her skin again. She didn't want to go.

But Demetrius' hand. It was like she'd been floating around in space, suffocating, when she found an oxygen tank. The tank was on a collision course with an asteroid and she couldn't stop it.

She needed that oxygen.

She needed that hand. And Demetrius would get on the ferris wheel. She didn't want to let go, she couldn't let go. After having it, she didn't know what she'd do without it.

They stepped into line and letting go was worse than not going.

Anya couldn't let go.