The Book at the Top of the Closet

Chapter Twenty-Two

For the next week, my dreams are about Aria. Over and over I relive the feeling of panic she felt in my last vision, and each night I wake up sweating and afraid, pulled again and again into panic attacks. I miss two classes because I'm too exhausted to leave my room, and the guilt and anxiety over skipping class only makes it all worse. I only manage to keep down about half my food, and no one comes over because I've told them all I have a stomach bug. Everyone believes me except Veronica, but she keeps her distance too, probably figuring that whatever is going on with me is something I want to deal with alone.

She's not wrong exactly, but she's not quite right either. I wish I wasn't alone. I just don't know how to say that, how to ask someone to come sit with me and let me ignore them while I tremble and puke. I don't know how to admit that I need someone to make it all better. Honestly I want my mom, but if I call home, my parents will just worry about me and I don't need them wondering if I can handle college. I doubt myself enough without having to convince them of things I don't quite believe.

Finally, when I can't take it anymore, I try to scry again. I have to know what Aria was afraid of. I set out the supplies again and pile pillows around myself, this time more to hold me up than anything else. I take a shaky sip of water to stave off the dehydration that's been closing in, and with a deep breath, I let myself slip away.

This time, a vision takes hold almost immediately. The scrying mirror doesn't even change, I'm just looking at it one minute, and the next, I'm with Aria. We're in the dark this time, standing on a sidewalk. Aria shivers, and though I can't feel the cold, I shiver too. She stands hunched against a streetlight, out of breath as if she's just been running. She watches the road, and I wonder if she's waiting for someone. Her hand fidgets with something, and I try to get a closer look without popping into her head again.

The object she's holding is a pocket knife. The handle is dark blue, and the blade is clean but looks a little dull. I'm not an expert, but it doesn't look like it would be much use as a weapon. Still, she wields it in front of her, a hunted sort of look on her face as though she expects someone to jump out at her any moment now. A car pulls up, and relief washes over her face. She climbs in, and as the car drives away, the vision fades.

Back in my room, I take a gulping breath of air, feeling almost suffocated by the fear that radiated off of Aria in the vision. What happened to her? My head spins with possibilities, but one sticks out to me. I remember the horrible things people said online when I posted the picnic pictures, and I remember the fear I felt, how the shape of it felt a lot like the fear Aria was feeling. The pieces click together and I just get this certainty that someone, some asshole, must've harassed Aria for being a witch.

Whoever it was, they scared her enough to make her leave and not come back. She had been holding that knife in front of her like she was afraid for her life, and I can just see it in my head, the way it must've played out. I can picture clearly the outline of someone standing in front of Aria, shouting hateful things and making threats. I can feel her terror, how she must've run away and held on to the only thing she carried around that she might be able to use if she had to defend herself.
For the first time in a week, I feel something other than fear and exhaustion. I feel a deep rage, brewing like a storm. I want to know more. Opening up her journal, I let myself breathe easy for the first time in a week, because I am going to find out exactly who scared Aria so badly. And I will make them more afraid than I've ever been.

#

Dear Diary,

Well today is just going awesomely. I was up all last night working on ideas for the art show, and honestly, they were all garbage. I carried an armload of wet canvases out to the dumpster and threw them in, and then I thought about how maybe I should've saved them and tried to salvage them or paint over them, and I tried to climb in after them. University police stopped me for my own safety and made me go back to my room.