In This Town

6. Talk

Imogen couldn't think, could hardly breathe as the words escaped Grayson's mouth. The sentence, after dripping like poison past his lips, was a dagger in Imogen's chest. It dug mercilessly into her heart and turned it cold, a high contrast to the warm temperature outside.

Bo's Keepsakes, Imogen thought, and continued to think over and over again like a metronome in her brain. She didn't know what to do, had no idea what to think as the boy who she'd only known for a mere two hours had just admitted such a deep, personal thing out loud to her. Suddenly, Imogen felt ashamed.

"I'm... I- Grayson, I am so sorry," she said, but the words felt pathetic leaving her mouth. "I shouldn't have pried so much, I should have taken the hint. I'm sorry."

Grayson's hands dragged down his face, the pressure from his fingers leaving angry marks down his skin. He sighed, sniffled before looking into Imogen's eyes with an expression she could only describe as desperation, and she knew then that there was nothing she could do to bandage the wound back up. Imogen had ripped it off already with such carelessness, regarding only her own itching curiosity and not the way it would tear ruthlessly at the scars of the ones around her. Worse even, at the expense of the only person in the town that she could already consider a friend.

"It's not your fault," Grayson spoke finally, nearly a whisper. "I've never really... Talked about Bo since everything happened." He was swiping frustratedly at his eyes, presumably in an attempt to erase any trace of his tears. Imogen couldn't will herself to alert him that it was only worsening the effects - instead she reached out and pulled his arms down, away from his face. She tugged her left sleeve around her hand and reached up to press away gently the remnants of tears from his eyes.

"Still," Imogen said softly as her arms fell to her sides again. The volume she spoke in was only a ghost of her usual loud voice. "I should have known better."

They stood there for some moments after, just allowing the moment to pass. Imogen had lots of things sitting anxiously on the tip of her tongue. She wanted to comfort Grayson, to ask questions, to tell him that if he wanted to talk she would gladly listen. But the voice in the back of her brain sang gently, reminding her that sometimes silence was all someone really needed, and everything else would come in due time.

The day passed in something of a blur after that, Imogen's brain having wandered far off to explore the depths of all her troubled thoughts. Grayson and Imogen eventually had to part ways after their English class, which they did with a hug and the silent knowledge that a bond had somewhere formed between all the drama. Imogen liked that thought.

When school ended and she was driving away from her overwhelming first day at school, Imogen was carefully mapping out what she would do once she arrived at home. She did it between flashbacks of the drawings she could vividly remember holding in her hands, and the image of the girl in her room, whose cold, pale green eyes held a striking resemblance to the woman who walked into her first period. There's no way, Imogen thought, I don't even know what Bo looks like.

She didn't know when it happened, but somewhere in her maze of thoughts Imogen found herself running into a corner of the maze that had messy hair and brown eyes, a lazy smile that looked pretty and perfect behind a row of metal. She thought of the look in his eyes as he talked about Bo, a pain deeper than anything physical could inflict. Imogen felt terrible, wanted to take back the prying notes she passed to Grayson as she arrived home, regretting her acceptance of his offer for a tour around the school as she trudged up the stairs, and wishing she had never even moved to Ashenfort at all as she walked toward the door of her bedroom. Something in her body ran cold while she stood in front of it. And when she opened it, she couldn't breathe - literally.

"Shhh," cooed a voice behind her as a muffled scream elicited from Imogen's mouth. Her face felt ice cold as a hand pressed against it, as though she had fallen face first into a pile of snow. "Please, you're okay. Please, just calm down. Please," the person murmured, a mantra that rang soft in her ear but chilling in her spine.

It took Imogen a moment to comply, fighting at first against the person who held her and the freezing sensation that came with it. Eventually, Imogen's instincts caught up to her, and she thought out her options; there was no way she could escape. So when she finally calmed down enough, Imogen froze against the tall frame that stood behind her, captured her. She looked around the room, which was not as she had left it when she left in the morning.

Old toys, jewelry, even a pair of petite socks that looked like they belonged to a baby, all littered the room. Different little souvenirs and relics, all surrounding the thing that Imogen had so desperately tried to force into the back of her mind, and the only thing inside of it sat a stack of drawings, neatly stacked into a pile.

In what felt like slow motion, Imogen reached up and took the icy hand covering her face into her own. Bo's keepsakes, Imogen reminded herself, and became unsure at the same time if the chill in her body was from the girl behind her or her unrelenting fear.

And suddenly, "you're Bo." Imogen turned around then, looking into the eyes of the girl who had taken her captive in her own room. Wide, pale green irises stared back at her. Her knees felt weak, threatened to cave in as she tried to rack her brain for a logical explanation. There's no way this can be happening.

Bo seemed to feel bad, and softened the features on her face as she moved it in a nod. "Sit," she said softly, almost pleaded as she gestured to Imogen's bed. So many questions plagued her mind, but she complied to the slightly translucent girl as her shaking knees allowed her to move to her bed and sit down.

"But-you-what-" Imogen started to hyperventilate again. She was going to scream.

"No. No!" Bo reached behind her and clicked the door to the bedroom locked. In a second, she was knelt in front of Imogen. "Don't-please, don't scream. Imogen, right? Just, relax. We need to talk."