Separian - Book 1

Chapter 24

The four elders of the house had formed a small conversation at the kitchen table, a coffee in everybody's hands but John's who now had a bottle of water. I pleaded with him when Myra and Amy were focused on other things but whenever either of them turned to face myself or John, my eyes darted to my cup. Amy's hands were in her lap for most of the conversation, a mannerism she didn't often carry with herself to the table. I made note of how her arms moved whenever she readjusted her seat or shifted her hands position in her lap, memorizing what each raise of muscle under the skin looked like and tying it to a movement in either her arm or her hand. Not once did they try to find my own under the table. When the drinks were all emptied the conversation appeared to die. I let loose a breath of air, trapped in suspense. As Amy moved from the table toward the sink, I could feel her heart pounding in the very walls around me, reiterating what already had me feeling so uneasy.

Myra and John walked into the other room for a moment. Simon appeared in the doorway after they disappeared behind the living room wall. He walked across the room slowly, still half asleep and chose the seat opposite me.

His eyes dug into me like knives, as if looking for an answer. The stare he held was a welcomed distraction from Amy. She moved about the kitchen silently stacking plates and cups away in the cupboards.

"So where are you going next?" Simon asked. John and Myra's conversation in the other room began and Amy was unable to hear us over the sound of clanking porcelain and silverware, at least not clearly.

So I answered. "Your mother thinks I should go home to my real family."

"I'm pretty sure it was your idea, not hers." I was going to speak in hypotheticals, but he appeared too alert for that. "But what do you think?" His tone remained level, not a trace of spite or distaste to speak of.

"I've been thinking that I might be approaching the end of my welcome here since I agreed to stay. Even if nobody here agrees with me."

"Well I agree with you." Funny. It didn't sound malicious when he said it. "It would definitely be safer for us if you weren't here." Still, not a hint of malice. "So do you want to leave?" he sounded nearly unsatisfied with his own question.

"No more than normal."

He understood. "You got attached." I nodded. "Is that why you want to leave? Because you think they're still after you?"

In truth, I didn't know that they were. All I had to go on was, "A reoccurring dream," I told him. "It doesn't exactly put me at ease."

"Is that why you turn so much at night?" I was shocked. He'd taken far more notice of me than I'd given him credit for. I nodded. "You talk too." His face frowned, "I can hear it through the door, even across the hall. Some nights it's worse than others."

"What do you hear?" I wondered, curious as to how much of my dream I'd subconsciously voiced.

"Numbers. Letters. Sounds. Names. Last night I even heard military time. Oh-nine hundred hours." He looked up and closed his eyes for a moment, then returned to me, satisfied with his answer. "Mean anything to you?" I thought for a moment and eventually shook my head after a minute of recall and deliberation. "Are you sure? You mentioned it more than once." Even though I was sure, I checked my memories again, simply because he'd asked. But what was nine o'clock in the morning supposed to signify? I didn't remember hearing or seeing the time in my dream, nor had I spent an unusual amount of time focused on the clock when that time rolled around. "Well, if you can't think of anything, I wouldn't worry about it. I just thought it seemed important, that's all."

"Well thank you, either way. I'll let you know if I think of anything." He shrugged and got up from the table as Amy finished with the final plate and made her way back across the kitchen and to my side. She'd been keeping her distance intentionally.