Shifted [z.m au]

VI. Disaffection.

◾ dis·af·fec·tion

noun:
/ ˌdisəˈfeksh(ə)n /

a state or feeling of being dissatisfied with the people in authority and no longer willing to support them.

-

A silent gasp escaped my throat. The room tilted infront of me. The floor rose up, and I had to grab the dining room table to steady myself.

I felt so betrayed. So confused and betrayed. Why did Harry call the police? Didn't he believe my story? Did he think I murdered Zayn's parents?

I heard him hang up the phone. Then I heard him walk to the sink. I heard the splash of water in the sink. He was getting me the glass of water he had promised.

I hesitated, still holding on to the table edge, still waiting for the room to stop tilting and swaying.

What should I do? There's no way I'm going to sit here and wait for the police, I told myself. Not in Zayn's body. Unless I get back in my own body, no one will believe my story, I decided.

Harry had just pretended to believe me. Harry must think I'm Zayn. He only called me Rena to humor me, to calm me down. So he could sneak into the kitchen and call the police at his first opportunity.

I could hear him shut off the water tap. I heard him open the freezer. Heard the plop of ice cubes dropping into the glass.

I took a step back. Then another. Moving back toward the living room. I'm getting out, I decided. I'm not waiting around here. Harry betrayed me. I'm not sure why.

"Hey, Rena---how are you doing?" he called from kitchen. His cheerful voice made my skin crawl.

I'd always thought he was such a great guy. So smart and caring. Now I hated him. Hated him for lying to me, for trying to trick me.

Hated him for not being my bestfriend.

I turned and started to run. The room tilted and rose up, as if trying to keep me prisoner. But I forced myself to run straight. Burst into the front hallway.

"Rena---wait! Hey---Rena!" I heard Harry's desperate shout behind me from the dining room.

I hit the screen door hard with my shoulder and bolted out of the house. I leaped down all three steps of the front stoop, and kept running.

"Hey, Rena---stop! Come back!" Was he going to chase after me?

I darted across the street, into someone's yard. Ducked low behind their tall evergreen hedge. Kept moving. Ignoring the pounding of my heart, the flashes of red, the images of the bloodred puddles that flared up every time I blinked.

I crossed another three or four yards before I dared to glance back. No sign of Harry. No. He wasn't coming after me.

"What's your problem. Harry?" I asked out loud, through gasps for breath. "What's your problem? Why did you do that to me? I'm your bestfriend, remember? Why did you call the police to come get your bestfriend?"

Cupping a hand over my ear, I listened for police sirens. I didn't hear any. Somewhere down the block, two little kids were having a shrill argument.

"Did not!"

"Did, too!"

"Did not!"

Hearing their innocent voices made my breath catch in my throat. I suddenly wanted to be a little kid again. I didn't want to be Zayn anymore. I didn't want to be seventeen. I didn't want to know there were two slashed bodies lying on Zayn's living room floor.