Static. Part 4

Then a human shape wavered into my view. It was coming up the sidewalk near the house. I watched and waited, antic.i.p.ating, as the shape moved across the freshly cut gra.s.s. I could see the person, and then a colored halo around their shape. Blues, greens and sunny yellow swirled around together, swaying back and forth, rocking to the motion of the person's movement.

"Hey Sale, what are you doing standing there?"

It was my brother Kyle moving towards me, dressed in shorts and a tank top, his usual attire.

Realizing that my eyes must be doing the freaky ink thing for me to see in that way, I lowered my gaze and pretended to study my feet. I didn't want Kyle to see them. He would freak out.

"Someone rang the doorbell. I just came out to see who it was."

As he approached the stoop, he glanced one way then the other obviously trying to figure out if I had lost my mind or something. "Okay? So who was it?"

I shook my head, still keeping my head downcast. "Ah, no one I guess."

He came up on the stoop but paused at my side before going into the house. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." I rubbed at my eyes. I couldn't go back into the house with them the way they were. Someone would call my mom and I'd be back in the hospital and probably end up undergoing a bunch of painful tests. "Where were you anyways? I thought you were in your room."

"I was over at Brian's playing a little b-ball." After looking at me funny, he went into the house. "Are you coming back in?"

"Yeah, in a minute. Just leave the door open."

"Okay," he said, a quirk in his voice, then the last bit he mumbled under his breath, "weirdo." But I heard him anyway.

His little comment didn't surprise me--Kyle and I were complete opposites. He was tall and fair haired, as I was short and well, I colored my hair monthly, so I guess that didn't count. He loved sports and was on the school basketball team. I managed to play a mean game of air hockey once in awhile down at the pool hall. Academically, we were about the same. Both of us raked in B's, with a few C+'s mixed in the bunch. However I did manage to score an A last term in art. Thankfully my teacher had a great sense of humor and thought my sculpture of a sperm cell constructed entirely out of tampons was inspired.

Music and movies also differed. While I leaned toward the hardcore, including loving horror movies, Kyle was really all about the Pop. Although I did think Superbad was a freaking hilarious film. I mean who couldn't love McLovin? And Michael Cera I thought was cute as h.e.l.l.

After a few more minutes I gave up trying to find out who was watching me, if anyone. I rubbed at my eyes until they stung, but finally my vision returned to normal. I glanced around the yard one last time before heading in.

Out of my peripheral I thought I saw movement in the shadows along side the house, but instead of stopping and checking it out, I shook the feeling off and went back to my room. I had enough of being freaked out for the day. I figured I was over quota.

I pushed open my bedroom door with the intention of lying back down on my bed and picking up the phone to order pizza. It was past six and my stomach was starting to grumble. But when I entered, a high pitched shrill, like the emergency broadcast system signal, invaded my ears. I clutched at my head trying to drown the offensive sound out.

"What the h.e.l.l is that?" I yelled over the clamor.

Both Chloe and Jamie regarded me strangely. "What are you talking about?" Chloe asked.

"That noise. What the h.e.l.l is it?"

"It's Malice, dummy. It was on your iPod," Jamie said.

Chloe frowned. "I told him I wasn't sure if you'd want to listen to it, considering."

"This isn't Malice. It can't be." I took my hands off my ears and moved toward the iPod dock speakers. All I could hear was the ear piercing whine of static coming through the tiny holes.

Then when I strained, really strained, I could hear whispered words.

You are mine...

You belong to me...

You want me beyond all reason...

You will never love someone as much as you love me...

And then like a slap in the face, the sting radiated down my body.

Salem, I know you're listening...

I stumbled backwards. Feet tangled, I tripped over the pile of shoes and magazines on the floor and ended up on my a.s.s.

Chloe put out her hand to help me up. "What's the matter with you?"

I stared at her, the whispered words still caressing my ears like a lover's fingers. "Shut it off."

She hesitated, a look of concern pinching her already thin face.

"Shut it off!" I screamed.

Startled by my outburst, Jamie fumbled with the dock but finally managed to pull the iPod out of it, instantly stopping the music. He set the device down on my dresser. "Holy s.h.i.+t, Salem. What's your problem?"

"Leave her alone." Chloe pulled me to my feet and put an arm around my shoulders. "She's had a rough few days."

Still shaking, I allowed Chloe to guide me to the bed and sit me down. She sat beside me, her hand rubbing my shoulder. I appreciated her effort to calm me even if it was completely pointless. Jamie just stood on the other side of the room staring at us, unsure of what to say. I couldn't blame him.

Neither of us had told him about the incident after the Malice gig. All he knew was that I got into it with another girl and ripped out her nose ring. I didn't want to tell him about the rest. I still wasn't absolutely sure I'd been raped or a.s.saulted. I'd definitely been drugged, that much I was positive about, but the rest was still foggy.

There'd been a few times while I was still in the hospital where I wanted to ask the doctor if he'd examined all of me and found anything odd. Or if he'd done a toxicology test on my blood and found RBH floating around in my system. But I'd been too embarra.s.sed to ask. It wasn't really a good topic for small talk. I'd also been so eager to get out of the hospital; I didn't want to give them any more reasons to keep me there.

After a few seconds of silence, Jamie cleared his throat. "I'm going." He headed for the door. "My dad went back to school shopping and who the h.e.l.l knows what he came back with. I swear to G.o.d the dude thinks I'm still twelve."

I didn't respond. My ears still tingled from the static in the music. I swiped at them, digging my fingers inside. They itched as if a thousand baby spiders were crawling around.

"Later," Chloe said.

"I'll see you guys at school." He left shutting the bedroom door behind him.

"Do you want me to call your mom?" she asked.

I shook my head. I didn't want to have to explain anything to my mom. Because, well, I couldn't explain it. I had no freaking idea what was happening to me. Maybe I was going insane. Maybe I'd contracted a serious STD and it was affecting my brain. Syphilis. That was it. My brain was slowly being eaten away by it. At least, I thought that was how the disease worked. I didn't really pay attention in health cla.s.s.

A violent s.h.i.+ver racked my body. "Just sit with me for awhile, okay?"

Without a word, she settled her head against mine and squeezed my shoulder, and I knew she'd stay with me as long as I needed her to. To the end of days or until I fell asleep, whichever happened to come first.

Chapter 7.

Coming out of a strange and eerie dream that I couldn't quite remember, I rolled over onto my side to try and get comfortable. Once Chloe left at around nine, I fell asleep and I'd been in and out of consciousness ever since. I think my mom checked up on me when she got home from work, but I couldn't be sure.

Unable to get truly comfortable I'd been tossing off the covers and rolling up into them alternatively. I didn't know whether I was hot or cold.

Now, I was definitely cold. Not wanting to open my eyes, I reached blindly for the covers. If I dared open them then I might consider staying awake. Being awake meant thinking, and I really didn't want to do much of that any time soon. Yet, I couldn't find the d.a.m.n covers.

Slitting my eyes to half-mast, I raised my head to search for the covers. But they were long gone.

About eight feet below me.

Gasping for breath, I tried to dig my fingers into the ceiling stucco. Anything to anchor me. My heart pounded in my chest and I was dizzy and light-headed. I wasn't one for heights. Vertigo settled in, and it looked like the room was spinning in a circle below me.

"OhmyG.o.d. OhmyG.o.d. OhmyG.o.d," I chanted over and over again hoping that somehow it would save me from the harsh reality that I was stuck on the ceiling and not tucked safely into my bed on the ground.

Although technically, I wasn't stuck. I could move.

Carefully turning onto my stomach, I reached for the light fixture. My fingertips just brushed it. Taking a deep breath, I sort of bounced/s.h.i.+mmied across the ceiling to get closer to the light.

Thankfully, I didn't sleep naked. I could just imagine how it would look if someone walked into my room and saw a naked girl stuck to the roof. I'm sure it wouldn't be all that pretty of a sight. Well, maybe for a guy it would. Being seen in my tank tap and boy's glow in the dark Sponge Bob boxer shorts was bad enough. Plus I imagined rubbing against the hard stucco on the ceiling wouldn't feel all that pleasant on my body.

I grasped the light fixture in both hands and wondered how the h.e.l.l I was going to get down. I had no idea how I got up here, or why, but really all that mattered was putting my two feet back onto solid ground. Everything else had to wait until that glorious thing happened.

I could call out for my mom, but I imagined she wouldn't be too calm seeing her daughter floating along the ceiling. Besides that, she'd definitely take me back to the doctors. Since floating was definitely not on any symptom list of diseases known to man, going to the doctors wasn't going to do me any good anyway.

No, this was something else. Something unnatural. Something even supernatural.

Images of actor Tobey Maguire crawling up a brick wall in the first Spiderman movie came to mind. I lifted my hand and inspected my fingertips for tiny barbed hairs. Although I had no delusions of grandeur of becoming a superhero, I pondered the notion that maybe I'd been infected with something noxious or alien. But then that just sp.a.w.ned images of zombies running through London streets circa the movie 28 Days Later. It was a stupid notion.

Yet, I had died earlier this week.

I glanced around my room searching for anything that could help me get down. The desk by my window was my best bet. It was solid enough that I could grab hold of it and pull myself down along the wall. Reaching it was another matter.

Testing my limitations, I pulled my legs up. My knees sc.r.a.ped against the stucco. I knew they'd sting later but right now I couldn't let it stop me. Still holding the light fixture, I dragged my knees across the ceiling. The hard plaster ripped at my skin as I crawled toward the window. Just a few more knee shuffles and I'd reach the curtain rod, but I had to let go of the light to get there.

Taking a deep breath, I released my grip on the bra.s.s fixture and, trying to dig my fingers into the ceiling, I crawled the last few feet to the wall. I grasped the curtain rod and let out my breath thankful I didn't float away. Now I just needed to pull myself over to grab the desk. I smiled to myself thinking that I'd done pretty well so far. No freak outs. No frantic screaming or pa.s.sing out.

Hand over hand, I pulled myself along the window frame until I reached the end. My desk sat along the side of the window. One hand still gripping the rod, I reached down to grab the top of the shelving on my desk. Stretching as far as I could, I was still a good two feet away. I wasn't going to reach it without pus.h.i.+ng off from the ceiling.

It wasn't that I had a fear of falling; it was the fear of what if I didn't? What if I was stuck to the ceiling forever?

Maybe my mom could charge a fee for people to come and see the freak living on the ceiling. Could be an interesting career choice. I wouldn't have to succ.u.mb to the pressure my mom was giving me about going to college. I could literally lie around and do nothing. Except I'd be lying on the ceiling and not on the sofa watching TV.

"Well, here goes nothing." Bracing one hand and my knees against the ceiling, I counted to three then pushed off.

I hung in mid air for a moment, and then felt myself being sucked back upwards. Scrambling I s.n.a.t.c.hed a handful of hot-pink curtain to keep from sticking to the ceiling again. My face was pressed against the gla.s.s of my window.

And that's when I saw the boy sitting on a large branch in the old oak tree right outside my window. His face was illuminated by moonlight and he didn't look too happy.

Yelping in surprise, I fell to the floor.

Nothing broke my fall and I landed virtually unscathed on the carpet. Although I did knock my head against the windowsill as I dropped. I also managed to knock all the air out of my lungs.

Head starting to throb, I rolled over onto my back to take a few deep breaths. I rubbed at my forehead making sure there was no blood, then sat up, albeit slowly and carefully. My whole body ached. G.o.d, I was going to be sore tomorrow. I glanced down at my knees and winced. They were shredded pretty good. Blood dotted the carpet where I'd landed.

I struggled to my feet and peered out the window again. Tree boy was still there. What the h.e.l.l? I had a peeping Tom sitting outside my window. I wondered how long he'd been there and what exactly he'd seen.

p.i.s.sed, I slid the window up and stuck my head out. "What the h.e.l.l are you doing?"

He didn't respond, just sat and stared at me, his hand wrapped around one of the tree branches.

"I'm going to call the cops, a.s.shole."

"I can help you." There was something about his voice that gave me pause. It was familiar. Not the voice itself, but the timbre of it. The way it moved and undulated. The way it flowed right into me. I liked the way it made me feel inside. All warm and gooey, like a freshly baked cookie-chocolate chip, my favorite.

My hands were shaking, but I kept up my chin. I didn't want him to see that I was one part scared and one part turned on. "Help me what? Undress? Pervert."

"I know what's happening to you."

It was then, that I recognized him by the way the moonlight danced across his face. A perfect pale face with sculpted cheekbones and strong jaw that I'd seen before.

"You were there, at the party."

"Come with me. And I'll tell you what's going on."

I wanted to go with him. The urge pulled at me violently. So violently I wanted to jump from the window without a care of how or where I landed. My teeth even ached from the pull.

Shaking my head to clear my mind, I said, "I'm not going anywhere with you. I don't even know you."

"My name is Trevor."

"I don't care what your name is," I stammered. "You're freaking me out and I want you to leave."

"It's going to get worse before it gets better. You need to be prepared."

"Prepared for what?"

"To lose your mind."

I wanted to laugh but the way he said it, so serious, so solemn, made my heart thump hard. My throat ran dry and my whole body iced up. I'd never felt so cold in my life.

"Just please leave."

"Don't be stupid. Listen to what I'm telling you."