A World That Is Not Mine

XXXIV.

"Stevie, you have to stop reading his mind," the blue eyes told her.

"What? Why?" she asked, still in her meditation.

"He already knows what he has to do. You are distracting him---he will start wanting to see you if you're in his head."

"So I shouldn't do this at all?" she asked.

"For now, no. If he really needs help and you are in his head, you won't be able to help him. Like today, you could and that was because, it was you protecting him. Had you have been in his head at the time, he would have gotten caught."

"Okay..." she released her thoughts of Lindsey and got out of his head to focus more on what the blue eyes were telling her.

"Do you understand?" he asked.

"Well, sorta... you mean, I have to work almost under pressure to help him?"

"That's a good strategy to think of. Theoretically, yes. You need a spur of the moment thought to help him."

"But wouldn't it be less accurate that way?" she questioned.

"Not for you---you hold too much knowledge to lead someone on the wrong way. You have a filter."

"Oh..."

"But you did a good job guiding him," he mentioned.

"Thanks."

"I need you to return to your realm, so when Rick comes home, you're in your correct senses."

"Okay. Do you have an idea of how long I will be here?"

"That is a mystery to me. You'd have to wait and gather more information."

Stevie opened her eyes and pulled in a large breath. She released a small sigh as she took in the lighting. She could see through the crack of curtains, it was getting dark, so she was wondering where Rick had gone. She sat up in bed and looked around. Now she didn't know if she had chance to even look around since meditating. What am I supposed to do here, all day when he remembers he has a job? she thought of her husband at the moment and the big empty house. What do I do? I mean, I am bored out of my mind... I guess I could still write. That might just scare him, she smiled. Pulling her notepad out---the one Rick had given her several hours ago, she started writing. She wrote how she normally would write and if there were any questions, she was willing to say it was how she felt. Or even, perhaps from a dream---she got inspired. She wasn't quite afraid and she honestly would have rathered be sent back to the facility with Lindsey, than be home with Rick. Though she did miss her home.

…

By even later, Rick finally came home. He was stumbling in and by the pressure and pace of his footsteps, Stevie could tell he was high or drunk. She didn't know which, but she also had to wait until he got to the room. She wanted to seem to scared by his movements that he felt bad for what he had done. She could hear him throw his keys onto the table and she coat hear him clearing his throat and letting out a subtle cough---that was probably because of the weather.

As he neared the steps, she could hear him latch to the railing and come up the stairs. His shoes hit the the steps in a soft muffled manner.

Stevie nearly braced herself when she heard his hand fall on the door knob. She wasn't afraid of him, but the state he was in. She had always hated for him to come home drunk, but it was something she would have to deal with.

He emerged through the door---a Starbucks cup in his hand. He had a small smile on his face when he saw her eyes flutter open as he neared the bed.