A Pocket Full of Posies (Book 2)

Chapter Twenty-One

Images crash into my head, and they fall over one another, and they're tangled and messy and some aren't complete, but they're real. They're so real. I'm in the car with my parents, and Connor is telling me to play sleeping lions, except it's not Connor, it's Annabel. We're crashed on the side of the road and Dad's not moving, and Annabel is pulling me out of the car, except it's not Annabel, it's Connor.

She's screaming at Mum and--No, Connor is screaming at Mum and Annabel at the crash site. Then I'm in her arms on the side of the road, and she's not frustrated with me. Annabel isn't frustrated with me. She's huddling me into her, and she's not angry. She was never angry. Her voice is cracking, and she's scared. She's so scared. I'm being carried by Connor into the forest, except it's murky. The whole memory is murky. It's not real. I don't know how I know, but I do. The others are so bright, so clear. This is a lie. That whole vision was a lie.

It was Connor. It was all Connor.

I need to get the hell out of here.

I leap out of bed, and I must not be fully awake because I stumble and almost fall to the floor. It was all Connor. More images and words and voices crash into my head. I'm running and Dad is chasing me through a park but I'm laughing, and then Mum is taking a photo of me in school uniform, but my jumper is way too big, and we're in a zoo and I'm on Dad's shoulders looking over a wooden gate as he points at a couple of hippos. They're so real. Everything is so real. Mum. Dad.

My throat is closing up. I can't breathe, and my heart feels like it's being squeezed, like it's going to collapse in on itself and leave a gaping hole. I'm sitting at the kitchen table and Dad is making me read old books, and I tell him I'm bored, then Mum and Dad are cheering and I'm in water--a swimming pool? There's a bunch of other kids around me, and I jump out of the water to be handed a felt badge and a certificate, and Mum and Dad are running over to me with huge grins on their faces. Few of the memories are full, but they're enough.They're more than I've ever had.

Now fully alert, I keep myself steady as I slip out of the bedroom. The flat is silent. It's fine. I can get out of here. He's asleep. I creep towards the front door, then curse to myself. My phone is still in the living room. I quietly make my way towards it, and I don't know if it's because I've been asleep, but the blessing daze is stronger now. I fight against it.

Not now.

I spot my phone the second I enter the living room, and as I'm about to grab it, more memories burst around me. I'm in our Irish house pouring crisps into a bowl, and then I'm running upstairs and I see Annabel, except she's not with a spirit girl, she's with a living boy and they're giggling and kissing, and she screams at me to get out of her room, and--

"Can't sleep?"

I snap out of the memory, and turn to the living room doorway to see Connor standing there. He must have just gotten out of bed because his hair is unkempt, and it looks unnervingly similar to how it looks in my visions. No, my memories. Holy shit, my memories. I can feel the panic looming, clouding over me like an old, familiar friend. I can't panic. Not now. Something about my expression must give away much more than I want it to.

"What? What is it?" Connor's face falls. "Is it Annabel? What has she remembered? Whatever she's said, it's--She's twisted it. It's a lie."

"No," I demand. "No, she's said nothing, I don't know what--I don't know what you mean."

"You're lying," Connor hits back. "What has she said?"

My instinct is to stammer, to freak out, but I stop myself. I close my eyes for a moment, take a breath, and force my face into the most neutral expression I can muster up. Be clever about this, Felix. For once in your life, be calm.