Feared

Thirty: The Past

Rain began to splatter the ground, large, dark marks of an impending storm. James could feel it in the air, the tingle of electricity, the unseasonal heaviness. The wind was picking up too, rattling the needles on the pine trees, swaying their branches. Each gust of wind and drop of rain disturbed the calm, mirrored surface of the lake, sending ripples across it, distorting the reflections of the trees and the clouds. The day was growing ominous and dark. A purple hue was bleeding into the slate grey sky, spreading its violent poison through the clouds as the storm moved in.

James slowed to a walk. He had nearly completed his third lap of the lake and it was the first time he had allowed himself to waver from his run. It all came so easy to him, his strength, his speed. It was as natural as the thoughts to manipulate the objects around him.

The cool rain mingled with the sweat that clung to his skin, tracing careful tracks down his bare arms and face. His breath was uneven and he gulped at the air, trying to focus on the sting in his throat rather than the anger Charlotte had left him with.

She had loved him, the him he had been before. It was a strange concept, an uneasy, uncomfortable thought that made his stomach swim. Not so much the love itself, which was... acceptable, but the secrecy, the guilt. She was treating it as if he had died, and perhaps in many ways he had, or at least that part she had loved had died, but it was still not enough reason for her not to say anything; for any of them not to say anything.

They all knew him, of that he was sure. His past existence had to have been among them, but yet not one of them had come to him, had even tried to explain it to him. Especially Charlotte, if she had really loved him that much in his past life. But then maybe she hadn't. Maybe he was just an excuse for her to get what she wanted, a reason to go to war.

James tried to push the thoughts from his mind, considering running another lap of the lake, just to focus his attention elsewhere, but he knew it would be impossible, only a momentary distraction. He turned the corner and began across the lawn towards the main house.

It was quieter than usual. The oncoming storm had driven most of the others into their cabins. Those who did remain hurried about, their heads down in an effort to avoid the heavy drops. Some of them glanced his way as he passed. Some even waved nervously. He didn't acknowledge them, these strangers who knew him better than he knew himself.

The main house sat on top of a hill, large and cumbersome in the serene setting. A large wrap-around porch looked out over the cascading lawn and the darkening clouds, the windows of the house black as the storm swallowed the day's light.

James wiped his brow on his shirt as he climbed the steps to the house, trying not to look to the girl sitting on the porch swing. He remembered her from the first day. Now she fixed him with a hard stare, her hazel-green eyes watching him with a curious intensity, searching him as if she could read his soul on his face.

Even as he thought the words, her cool brown skin flushed and she glanced away, pressing her lips together. James ignored her and unlatched the screen-door trying to focus on making it to his room without running into any of the others. He was becoming quite adept at avoiding them, Charlotte especially, but he was pretty sure she was staying out of sight. She was avoiding him too and that was how he liked it. He didn't want her anywhere near him.

He hurried up the stairs, ignoring the muffled sounds of the television from the front room, and dodged into his room. He exhaled, closing the door behind him, and gazed out at the black clouds that engulfed the horizon beyond his window. Heavy drops of rain splattered the glass, falling faster and faster even as he watched, until the thrum of the rain on the window pane and the roof engulfed all other sound in the house.