Porcelain Skin (NOW ON AMAZON KU)

21. Let the Games Begin

We arrive back within minutes, but there's no denying that the noodles are scorched. They're like crisp, black strips of coal. I have Trevor scrape the mutilated spaghetti off the bottom of the pan and put on a new pot to boil while I chop onions, garlic, and tomatoes, and fry up the meat.

Twenty minutes later, the meal is complete, and we're a breath away from sheer exhaustion. We load our plates and make our way to the couch. The DVD's already set to play, so we take our seats in preparation for some mind-numbing thrills.

I'm acutely aware of the fact that Trevor has chosen the furthest end of the couch from me, but who can blame him. It'd be awkward if we sat side-by-side with a sea of open space next to us.

I've finished my meal, and have my legs curled up to my chest, but I'm barely paying attention to the movie for two reasons- One: Trevor is occupying the same room as me, and Two: I'm freezing. Literally can't feel my toes or my calves.

"You cold?" he asks, startling me out of my trance. I'm in awe of his insightfulness.

"Yes," I chatter as my teeth clink together. I'm about as cold-blooded as a dandelion. Like, it actually kills me. Most of the time my toenails are purple—I don't paint them.

He doesn't respond as he gets up from the couch and vacates the room.

I know he's returned when I hear the shuffling of his feet on the carpet a moment later. That's when I feel it - something slithering over my shoulders and wrapping around my neck. I freeze for a split second before terror explodes in my chest with a starburst of raging heat.

"No, no, no," I'm gasping, nearly hysterical as adrenaline begins to replace the blood in my veins. I bolt from where I've been snuggled in the couch, tears instantly staining my face. I rip the soft, offensive fabric away from my neck and launch it across the room like a snake.

I'm trembling as I watch the lifeless attacker form a delicate heap on the floor. I shut my eyes willing the tears to stay back, but the moment my vision meets the back of my eyelids, pictures erupt like fireworks.

The room is immaculate like always. The table is void of any paperwork or clutter. There's a setup of nick-knacks on the corner edge that are arranged to perfection. In the middle of the arrangement is a photo of familiar, smiling faces. A memory of a time of easy banter and lighthearted teasing, love, and warmth, and a promise of forever. The silence that has settled itself in the room is like that of a white blanket descending upon a naked bed. Light flutters across the aging carpet, alighting the room with a deceitful tranquility. An invisible sensation ghosts its way across my skin as I become aware of the only thing that's not normal. Just that one piece of furniture that's not positioned correctly. And then, I shift my gaze up from the floor....

I blink my eyes open abruptly. Trevor stands uncomfortably in front of me. Concern etched into his brows and the lines around his mouth. He's clearly confused, but I don't have the energy to apologize for my reaction. As if he would know why kindly wrapping a scarf around my neck would send me into a terror-induced attack.

Instead, I leave him standing in the middle of the den as I make my way to the bathroom. I dry heave over the toilet bowl for a moment before the feeling subsides. Automatically, I reach with quivering fingers to flush, even though I didn't actually succeed at my attempt of ridding the feeling from my gut.

I comb my fingers through my hair and stand to face myself in the mirror. Those eyes stare back at me. They're so identical that it sends tremors through my spine. Brown with a rim of green in the center. But that's where the similarities end. The eyes in the mirror blink back at me. I can see the water swimming behind the dark lashes, and the life beating within their depths. The difference is that the eyes reflecting back at me are throbbing with dreams and a future, while the eyes staining my memories are draining... draining...