Earthbound

anything.”

Right.

I sift through the last few days, wondering if there’s anything I can tell her— something true to keep her swallowing my lies.

But I hesitate too long. Her shrink instincts latch on and she pounces like a cat.

“Come on, Tavia. Talk to me,” Elizabeth pleads. “I know strange things are happening to you. That’s what I’m here for. To help you understand.” She reaches out and grabs my wrist before I can draw away, her fingers tight against my skin. “I want you to understand, Tave. Everything. But you’ve got to give me something to work with.”

“Th-there isn’t anything,” I insist, pulling my hand back hard. But even if the stutter hadn’t given me away, my words are obviously a lie. “I haven’t seen him.”

Elizabeth studies me for a long time until I squirm. I don’t like the look in her eye.

Not because it looks dangerous, but because it looks safe.

She’s as good an actress as Reese—maybe better. I meet her eyes and all I can see is genuine fondness, a real concern and desire to help.

Maybe I want it so badly I’m making myself see it.

Or maybe I’m just easy to trick. The last eight months certainly support that theory.

But those eyes …

“Are we done?” I barely whisper the words, but it’s enough of a distraction to let me rip my gaze away from hers—to break the hypnotic influence she seems to have on me. Our session is less than half over, but we’ve always had the rule that I can leave if I feel the need.

And I am feeling the need.

“Are we?” she asks.

I don’t look at her; I can’t. I just nod and pick up my backpack from beside the couch and tromp to the door.

“I … I’ve been speaking with your aunt lately,” Elizabeth says, stopping me.

I manage to not snort in derision.

But only just.

“And I know she’s gone on an important business trip for a couple days.” Elizabeth hesitates and my nerves are suddenly tingly. I glance back, my fingertips resting on the doorknob, itching to escape.

Something’s crackling in the air—a change—and it frightens me.

“When she returns, we’re going to try a different method of … of therapy. I think you’ll like it,” she adds.

I nod and my fingers pull on the knob, granting me my escape. I slip through the doorway without opening it fully, hoping she doesn’t see the quaver in my now-weak knees.

They’re really going to try it, the pull or whatever it’s called—the thing that she’s afraid will fry my brain.

Thoughts of electricity and hot acid float through my head and I try not to dwell on them—surely she wouldn’t.

But then, what the hell do I know about what Elizabeth would and wouldn’t do?

I fight the urge to run out of the office as her words echo through my head. I don’t know how to convince you that all I want is for you to be okay. You used to believe that.

Am I so gullible that I believe everything I hear?

Maybe.

As I step out from under the awning in front of the office building—it’s raining again, of course—I pull my hood up against the wind and the drizzling mist, blocking out my peripheral vision. I almost miss the guy standing on the northern corner of the parking lot.

I’d have ignored him entirely if I didn’t—even in my panic-driven haze—recognize him.

Recognize his sunglasses.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Fear courses through me and I avoid looking at him and start walking toward the library.

When I catch sight of him again, he’s walking casually, a good block back, but it’s the second turn he’s followed me around. His black pullover—almost identical to my own—blends in with the sparse foot traffic, but it’s not hard to pick him out.

Still. I don’t want to be paranoid. There is the slightest of possibilities that we just happen to be going the same place.

Twice.

In the same morning.

I hesitate and then turn left instead of right—it’ll only extend my walk by a couple of blocks, but I don’t want to lead him straight to the library.

My steps slow as I approach the first corner on my new route and I sneak a peek behind me. I don’t see him yet.

Slower.

Slower.

Angling to the right, I glance up the sidewalk from beneath my lashes. Just as I’m about to step out of sight he comes around the corner, his eyes darting about. I snap my face away and begin power-walking again.

Terror ratchets through my legs, tingling in my toes, and I wonder briefly if it was a really bad idea to slow down enough to see him, if I should have gone with my gut and made my escape while I had a chance.

Problem is, I don’t trust my gut anymore. It was wrong about Reese, it was wrong about Elizabeth.

And while I wasn’t exactly wrong about Benson, I apparently was misreading him.

And I don’t even know where my gut stands with Quinn.

But now that I’m sure this guy is following me, I want to hide. Flee. Or maybe … to do something. It’s an instinct I don’t recognize as my own—or maybe just one I’d forgotten, after months of helplessness in a hospital bed and further months of painstakingly gradual recovery. Regardless, it’s unmistakable now. Do something.

But what?

Make something, I finally realize, identifying the unfamiliar urge. But I reject the possibility. No. Not a chance.

I duck into the doorway of a colorful candy shop, hoping to maybe lose Sunglasses Guy that way. After a minute or so a very tall man walks past the door going the opposite direction I had been walking and I decide to fall into step just behind him, use him as a human shield. I’ll follow him to the end of the block, then double back on another street.

I stall, pretending to mess with the zipper on my backpack, then edge into the crowd so close behind him that I almost step on the heels of his shoes. Even with his head hunched down and the way he pulls his coat around him like he’s tired—or sick, maybe—the man is huge and makes me feel safe and hidden.

Until he flickers.

Just like that lady the day I ran into the wall.

I draw in a loud breath but manage to keep walking. I glance around me, but no one else seems to have noticed. I look at the tall man again, his back broad and solid. He’s still hiding me.

I squint, focusing on him, waiting for it to happen again.

But I don’t expect him to disappear entirely.

I stop walking and someone plows right into me, making me stagger forward.

“Watch it,” the woman says, hardly glancing back as she and her boyfriend step aside and keep walking.

I whip around. No one else even pauses.