Inhabited

Chapter 1

I know something's wrong when everything goes silent.

Silence is never a good thing. No matter the circumstances. But it's even worse when you're in the air in a trillion pound flying machine. Okay, so I don't really know if it's a trillion pounds, but it could very well be. It might as well be, anyway.

One breath. Two breaths. Three breaths.

The stewardess slips out of the captain's cabin. Her eyebrows are creased together, those puckered lips pursed together. Her shoulders are tensed, making her look as though she could use a good shoulder rub. I should give her Lisa's card later. She'll be a loyal customer after the first massage, I can guarantee it. I'd be so lost without Lisa.

Focus.

Her eyes flicker around, bottom lip wobbling slightly. A piece of hair loosens itself from the tight bun atop her head and flings forward, dangling in front of her face. It goes ignored though.

A baby cries somewhere behind me, grating at my already raw nerves. It's not the first time since taking my seat that the same baby has made noise like this. Crying and screaming. That's all it's done. I swear I'm going to have a migraine from it later.

The plane quivers and my eyes zero in on the tightness of the ladies bosom as she draws in a sharp breath. I can feel the bite of the leather armrests as my nails dig in.

Low voices speak behind me and I know that my guys are talking. I am vividly aware of them, despite the fact I can't take my eyes off the flight attendant as she picks up a glass of water. It wobbles in the clear cup, splashing just barely. It can so easily be mistaken as the wobbling cabin of the plane for anyone not paying close enough attention. But I am. I see the trembling of her hand, racing up her arm. She pretends nothing is wrong as she hands the cup to a passenger a few rows in front of me.

The baby screams, ripping at my eardrums and my nails dig in deeper. I'm going to need a serious manicure when we land.

If... the voice starts to whisper, but I bat it off, refusing to entertain such thoughts.

Not now.

Nate is directly behind me. His voice louder then the others because of the close proximity. It's comforting, but I can't fall into it this time. Something wants me to stay awake now, to keep watching the woman. One signal wrong, that's all she needs to do isn't it?

Someone coughs, but I can't tell from which direction it is.

Nate is twenty-eight years old. The oldest of our little clan, as mom like to call us. He was nine when I was born.

The flight attendant's chest heaves as she takes in a slow breath and pushes the cart past me. Still, my eyes follow, my head turning. I'm desperate to keep her in my sight, but she disappears through a curtain at the back, leaving me without view of her.

The baby shrieks. I guess it's better then silence at this point. Because silence is bad news. It means everything is wrong.

Laughter behind me tells me that one of them said a joke or saw something funny. It's Seth's laughter, sort of raspy but a bark of it. He loves to laugh and it's always contagious. Except right now. The way my stomach is twisted up in knots prevents me from even smiling as he chuckles. He's twenty-six years old. He was seven when I was born.

The plane shakes and voices waiver. Nervous laughter drifts through the cabin. I'm not sure I can dig my nails any deeper without ripping out the upholster of the armrest and I'm not about to pay for the damages.

The baby cries. Peeling my nails out, I reach up and pinch the bridge of my nose, squeezing my eyes shut in a futile attempt to block the sound out. Who let a baby into first class? This is supposed to be where all those types of people aren't allowed, isn't it? Unless it's just that loud.

A gentle voice draws my eyes up and I turn to look at her. She's bent over someone's seat across the aisle from me, but she's back. The stewardess, flight attendant, whatever you want to call her.

As she straightens up, I take in the way her bun has gone lax, a little sloppy, and ready to fall out of it's ponytail.

Grayson's voice is the deepest of the boys. He's twenty-three and loves his video games. I'm surprised he even came on this trip. He was warned there would be no outlets, no video games of any sort. He still came. He was four when I was born.

The flight attendant turns her head and catches me staring at her. I don't move, I don't want to move. My hand drops back to the armrest and I return to digging my nails into it. She doesn't blink and for a prolonged moment, we're suspended. Just the two of us.

Until the plane jolts and I slam forward. My seatbelt stops me from flying completely forward and I stop inches from the seat in front of me, my heart thundering in my ears. My seatbelt digs into my stomach, reminding me loudly its there. The plane shakes violently now, everything around us wobbling dangerously in their places. My eyes drop to a cup on the table in front of the passenger across the aisle from me. Their head is cocked. I'd seen them pop a pill about two hours ago, putting an eye mask on to block out the light, and shortly after, their mouth dropped open and gentle snores drifted out. Snores that leave their partly opened lips. Undisturbed from the turbulence.

The plane shakes, rattling, side to side.

Voices rise, panic sears through the air.

My eyes flicker to the flight attendant, but her back is turned to me as she scurries for the captain's cabin.

My heart pounds erratically in my ears, the only sound I can hear.

A shrill voice digs around the pounding, telling me that Maisie is now starting to pay attention. She's twenty-one, legal age to drink and loves to show it off. She's always been into parties, but lately it's been ramped up. Not that mom or dad can do anything about it. She's legal age after. She was two when I was born.

A deeper voice alerts me to the male on the aisle seat behind me. Sullivan. Sully. Van. Mine. In private, in the darkest rooms. He's Grayson's best friend so we can't be public, not yet anyway. It has to be approached cautiously, brought up gently. Neither of us want their friendship ruined. I have a gnawing feeling that Sully will choose Grayson over me if it came down to it. He says that's paranoia and I'm ridiculous for even thinking that.

He told me he loved me this morning in the airport. I pretended to not have heard him so I could stall.

The plane shakes again and my breath catches.

It was Nate's idea and the rest fell into place so easily. For the most part anyway. Grayson and Maisie had a little more convincing, but they finally agreed.

I'm nineteen. I aspire to be a famous wildlife photographer. I know I'm in love with Sullivan Rosette, though I have yet to tell him.

And everything is wrong. Because the silence has taken over.