Pretty Dark Nothing Read online

  “Hey!” Aaron yelled.

  “Aaron, go to the store and get the biggest bunch of pink roses you can find. Pink are your mamma’s favorite. Pink, not red. Hurry, she’ll be home soon.” His dad fumbled in his pocket for his wallet. “No expense is too great for my Katy.” Their wedding album lay open on the floor. His dad looked up at him from a photograph, smiling, sober.

  “Dad, look at me.” Aaron touched his wrist, but his father jerked away, patting his back pocket.

  “I had it a minute ago,” his father mumbled.

  “Dad. Please.” Aaron grabbed his father’s hands and braced himself. “Remember where you are.” Looking into his father’s forlorn eyes, he opened a crack in the barrier. The familiar tingling gathered in the back of his head as their minds touched. Alcohol clouded his father’s emotions. He’d been thinking about their wedding day. With the help of his powers, Aaron saw through his father’s memories. His mother stood before him, young and beautiful, her dark hair piled and twisted on top of her head. Her wedding veil flowed down the back of a lacy train. He felt what his father felt, awe that Katy had said yes. An overwhelming mix of love and desire flooded him as they joined hands to say their vows.

  Aaron held on to this emotion, increasing its intensity and feeding it back to his father, trying to override the underlying grief. His dad jerked his hands away from him and scrambled backward on the couch, his eyes wild.

  “Who are you? Stay away from me! Leave me be!”

  Aaron grabbed his father’s hands again, pushing truth through the alcohol, fear, and confusion. “Dad, she’s not coming home.”

  As if stabbed, his dad sank onto the faded orange couch, deflated. He stared at Aaron, fear and hate etched into the lines of his wrinkled face.

  “You’re not my son.” Aaron’s face burned. He looked at the floor and clenched his jaw, fighting the urge to punch him. It was the alcohol talking, and hitting him wouldn’t even begin to erase the sting his father’s words had left on his heart.

  The front door slammed.

  “Josh!” Aaron yelled after his brother.

  His dad wrapped himself in the blanket, turned away from Aaron, and wept. Aaron’s anger crumbled as he watched his father’s pain engulf him. He stroked his gray hair the way his mother had stroked his until the weeping turned to snores. Then he went upstairs to nurse his own wounds with the strings of his guitar.

  In his room, Aaron lifted his acoustic guitar from its metal stand. He plucked the strings, listening to the tone of each note. Placing his right foot on the edge of his bed, he rested the guitar on his knee to adjust the tuning knobs and strummed. Satisfied with the sound, he paced the length of his small room, working on his newest composition.

  The whirlwind comes

  and there you are

  broken pieces of your life

  again they’re scattered near and far

  and you wonder why you try

  to pick them up again and again

  when the whirlwind comes again and again

  I’ll tell you this la la la la.

  Aaron leaned the guitar against the wall and flopped down on the end of his bed.

  Grabbing a small spiral pad from the bed stand, he flipped to an empty page.

  Whirlwind. Wind, bend, din, end, fin, gin, in, pinned, Quinn. Quinn, Quinn, Quinn. He took the pencil from behind his ear, tapping the eraser in a random rhythm on the page.

  He hadn’t asked for her number, but Teresa had given it to him anyway. “In case you want to check on her,” she had said, winking as she’d saved Quinn’s number in his cell. Grabbing his phone, he scrolled through his contacts and pressed SEND. It rang once, and he hung up.

  Chicken. Frustrated, Aaron tossed the phone to the floor.

  He needed to focus. Jenna would be annoyed if he didn’t bring a new song to tomorrow night’s rehearsal. Jenna. Now there was someone he should ask out. She was perfect: feisty, gorgeous, and witty. And she’d been hinting for weeks now that she wanted to be more than friends. Aaron enjoyed flirting with her, but that’s as far as it went. Singing softly, he worked through some possible lyric to go with the new melody.

  To pick them up again and again,

  when the whirlwind comes again and again,

  and there’s nothing left for me to mend,

  or my life is at a bitter end.

  Tell me why I can’t get this song to end!

  Why can’t Quinn be my new girlfriend?

  Quinn. Great, she wasn’t just taking over his thoughts, but his music too. Why did every thought revolve around her? She was just a girl. Did they even have anything in common? At least he and Jenna shared a love of music. Not to mention, Quinn was clearly still hung up on someone else. Someone who could never make her happy. Not like he could.

  Aaron picked up the phone and dialed again. One ring. He thought about what he would say when she answered. Two rings. He wiped sweat from his palm and shifted the phone to his other ear. Three rings. He resisted the urge to end the call. Voicemail. Relief and disappointment washed over him as he waited for the beep.

  “Hey, Quinn, it’s Aaron. Um, Reese gave me your number. I hope you don’t mind. I wanted to make sure you were okay, you know, after what looked like a really crappy day.” He winced at his own words and wished he could delete the message and start again. “Anyway, you’ve got my number now. Feel free to use it if you need anything.” He paced as he talked. “Get some rest. See you tomorrow.”

  The second Aaron ended the call, small, electric shocks crackled through his brain, and a wave of fear swept through him like a tsunami. What the hell? Aaron reeled as the electric shocks grew to a hammering pulse—a siren of sound and feeling. He gripped the bedpost, steadying himself, but the strength of emotion overwhelmed him, and his knees buckled as the vision engulfed him.

  CHAPTER NINE

  The lake shimmered golden blue in the sun. Quinn relaxed on a pink blanket on the thin strip of beach. She stretched and took a deep breath. The smell of honeysuckle floated on the breeze, warm and intoxicating.

  She closed her eyes and listened to the lake lapping the shore, at peace for the first time in months. She stood and kicked off her flip-flops, letting the cool waves wash over her toes as she waded along the shore. Gentle swells caressed her knees, and she raised the hem of her yellow sundress to keep it from getting wet. Content, she stopped and closed her eyes, wiggling her toes in the squishy, sandy bottom of the lake. A fish brushed the side of her leg, tickling her until she giggled.

  She opened her eyes to take in the last few moments of beauty, the sky turning from pink to fiery orange, to the purple of dusk within seconds. As the sun slipped beneath the glass surface of water, she tried to grab control of the dream, to force the sun back in the sky, but the darkness had slipped past her defenses and overpowered her.

  Nightfall had stolen all the light in the world, leaving the sky pitch black. No moon. No stars. Strong currents churned around her legs, and goose bumps covered her flesh. She hugged herself, rubbing her bare arms in a futile attempt to keep warm as the bitter wind bit her face and whipped her hair into a million dancing strands. The joy drained out of her, leaving a dark pit of hopelessness.

  She stood still, blind in the darkness, and willed herself to wake up. Would her mother be home by now? Maybe if she called out, someone would hear her and shake her from the nightmare. The chilled waves pounded her thin legs, creeping past her thighs and swallowing her waist. Cupping her hands around her mouth, she yelled, “Help! Somebody! Anybody! Please help me!” The wailing of the wind tore the words from her lips, flinging them into the depths of the lake, drowning them.

  She had to get back to shore, but she couldn’t see which way to go. A flash of light caught her attention; it darted in and out of the trees, a beacon in the dark. Hope surged; someone searched for her.

  “I’m here!” she screamed and waved her hands. Quinn tried to move forward, but her feet were buried in sticky silt. She pulled her left foot,
but it stayed stuck. She moved her heel and wiggled her toes to loosen the lakebed’s grip and pulled once more. The mud gave way like a suction cup being torn from a window. One foot free. Inch by agonizing inch, Quinn followed the light in the trees. Her muscles strained against the mud. Slurp, step, slurp, step.

  Quinn’s foot caught on a jagged rock, tearing the soft skin of her big toe. She fell backward into the frigid lake, her entire body enveloped in a massive splash. The icy water stung her arms and face, sending a rush of adrenaline through her whole system, propelling her back to her feet. Gagging, she sputtered and spit the fishy taste from her mouth.

  Thunder rumbled behind her. Quinn turned to see a familiar fog gathering in the center of the lake. Panic filled her. Stumbling and running, jagged rocks clawed her flesh, her warm blood mixing with the icy water. She didn’t care. She wanted to be back on dry land. She focused all her energy on reaching the light.

  “You can’t get away from us,” the fog whispered.

  Quinn stopped and covered her ears, but fighting it was futile. She swayed as the roar of the wind fought its way through her fingers, inside her mind, forcing her to turn and face the dread. She stood, transfixed on the movie that played amidst the shimmering mist. She, Quinn, a perfect and luminous spirit, floated above the waves, free of her body. While her dead flesh, heavy and cumbersome in life, sank ever further beneath the shadows of the lake. The last of her breath left her. A rush of freedom filled her as the cord tethering her soul to the gravity of life snapped. Intoxicating. She longed to be transported to a place where the chaos and fear within her would vanish, to let the wind carry her spirit far away. Is that what would happen if she let go? Would she be at peace? In heaven if she stopped fighting? She craved the promise the illusion taunted her with.

  She took a step toward the swirling darkness, into deeper water. She no longer felt cold or afraid, only the desperate need to be free from her flesh, from everything.

  ***

  At first everything was blurry, a mix of sound and feeling, and it took a minute for Aaron to recognize the signature of Quinn’s chaotic thoughts. What he couldn’t figure out was how he’d tapped into her mind without being skin to skin. His power had never worked this way before. He’d been thinking about Quinn, and now he found himself connected to her. A psychic link through touch, he could control. This, he couldn’t, and he didn’t like feeling out of control. Maybe he should break the link, but curiosity and fear tugged at him, and he opened his third eye wider, slipping deeper into her experience.

  As the strength of their telepathic bond deepened and settled, his vision cleared. Quinn, small and pale, stood in a giant lake surrounded by a menacing-looking fog. The closest lake was three hours away. It didn’t make any sense. A dream, a nightmare she desperately wanted to escape. From the middle of the lake, she called for help, her voice ragged. Something held her trapped in a nightmare. She fought to wake herself, but something held her entranced, something not human.

  A knot grew in his stomach as she took a step into the darkness, the water inching over her shoulders.

  “Quinn, don’t!” Her fear infected him, and although he was sure it was only a dream, he couldn’t help but be caught up in the vivid reality of it. All he knew was he had to get her out of the water. Not knowing what affect it might have, he hurled his inner voice like a spear through the connection. “Wake up!”

  She tore herself from the evil mass and looked at him. Did she see him? Usually, people didn’t sense him in their minds, but she was looking right at him.

  The dark shapes surrounding her exploded into a terrifying scream. A rush of wind nearly knocked her over, but she swam toward shore until she found her footing, and then she ran. He edged toward the shore, his heart racing as he neared the waves lapping on the sand. A tremor started in his legs and moved through his whole body. He backed away as waves rushed him. Instinct prompted him to turn, and run.

  It’s only a vision. The water can’t hurt you, he told himself.

  Quinn held out her hand, reaching for him. He swallowed hard. Ruth’s hand had reached for him the same way, and he hadn’t been able to save her.

  The dark gathered behind Quinn, a growing storm. She was oblivious, focused only on him.

  “Quinn!” Pushing his fear away, he threw himself into the water, diving beneath an incoming wave. Panic set in as it swept him back, but he gritted his teeth and reminded himself it wasn’t real. He was experiencing her dream, the immediate reality of her unconscious. He was safe in his room. Breaking the surface, her hand found his, and he pulled her into a tight embrace. As her body molded to his, fire burst through them, burning away everything and severing his connection. “Wait! No.”

  “They say talking to yourself is a sign of mental illness.” Josh stood in the doorway, one hand in his pocket, the other brushing his curls from his eyes. “Do I need to call the men in white coats to come and take you away again?”

  Aaron pinched the bridge of his nose. Pain burst behind his eyes and spread through the back of his skull as ropes squeezed tight around his chest. “Not now,” he growled at Josh.

  Swallowing the lump in his throat, Aaron closed his eyes and tried to reconnect with Quinn, to make sure she was okay. But he wasn’t sure how. He had been thinking about her when the vision took him. Maybe his mind had dialed hers like a psychic cell phone. It sounded crazy, but was it any crazier than being able to read people’s minds and influence their emotions?

  The squeak of the bedsprings told him Josh was making himself comfortable.

  “I said not now. I’m in the middle of something important.” He focused on her face, on wanting to talk to her, called her name in his head. Nothing. Without touching her, he had no idea where to begin. It was only a dream, he told himself. A vivid one, but it wasn’t like she was in any real danger. She must have woken up, breaking the connection. Aaron opened his eyes and scowled at Josh.

  Josh grinned. “Oh, right, talking to yourself. How rude of me to interrupt.” The covers wrinkled as Josh scooted his lanky body back to lean against the headboard. “You talk to yourself a lot these days. Were you praying or something?”

  “None of your business.” Aaron reigned in his temper, but his words still escaped as a snarl.

  Cool and in control, Josh placed his hands behind his neck, rested his head on a pillow, and stretched his spindly legs out in front of him to lounge lizard-style. “Sure looked like praying to me. On your knees, eyes closed. There is no God, you know. You might as well be talking to yourself.”

  “Let’s just drop it, okay?” Aaron stood and flopped into the blue beanbag chair in the corner. Tired and confused, he rubbed his face with both hands. “Where have you been?”

  “Out. If I had known you’d make up a little imaginary friend to talk to because you missed me so much, I might have come back sooner.” Josh’s sarcastic tone irked Aaron, but he tried to ignore it.

  “Why did you leave?”

  “What? Can’t stand a little debate? Afraid your faith can’t handle a little skepticism?”

  “What? Can’t stand to be cared about? Afraid to tell me where you went?”

  Josh shrugged. “Xander’s. I was hungry. There’s never any food round here, and his mom fixed spaghetti. Never turn down a free meal. Especially spaghetti.”

  “I called Xander. He said he hadn’t seen you since lunch. Where were you?”

  Josh shifted on the bed, casting his eyes first on the ground, then straight into his brother’s. “I forget,” he said in pure defiance.

  Aaron leaned forward, arms on his knees, and gave Josh a stern look. “Right, well, you better start remembering because from now on you’re going everywhere I go.”

  “Yeah, right.” Josh leaned forward in response.

  “Get used to it.” Aaron stood and crossed to the bed.

  “Can’t make me.” Josh stood, bringing himself nose to nose with Aaron.

  “Wanna bet?” Aaron dared.

  “Ho
w? By praying?” Josh raised an eyebrow, smirked, and sat back down on the bed.

  “I said drop it.” Aaron kicked the mattress and turned away from his brother.

  “Maybe I should talk to God. I’ll feel better, right? The truth is, life deals you crap, then it kicks you in the stomach. Or have you forgotten about pain? Oh, that’s right, you forgot everything. No pain for Aaron. How convenient to lose your memory. Wish I could lose mine.”

  “Well, it’s all perfectly clear now. Every little detail.”

  Aaron couldn’t tell Josh the memories weren’t exactly his. How he’d fished them out of his brother’s mind, his father’s too, building the puzzle of his previous life from flashes of their experiences, not his own. Not exactly. Aaron pushed the door open, gesturing for Josh to leave.

  Josh picked up the guitar and randomly played the only two chords he knew.

  Aaron sighed and settled back in the beanbag. He didn’t need to touch him to sense Josh wanted to talk, or fight—or both—and wouldn’t leave until he had his say.

  “What did it feel like? Being dead?”

  “I’ve told you a million times.”

  Josh strummed the guitar faster, moving from the first chord to the second and back to the first again. “I should have left you there, in your own pool of blood. It would have been easier.”

  The sickness of guilt slammed into Aaron’s stomach. Josh would never forgive him. And why should he? Aaron had been selfish and stupid. If he had known Josh would have come home early that day, would he have still done it? Yes. The truth shamed him.

  “You owe me, Aaron. Tell me what it was like.”

  How many times had he asked the same question? Josh knew he didn’t like talking about it with him, or anyone. It was too personal. He hated the idea of being known as the boy who came back from the dead, but Josh wouldn’t stop asking him about it, and Aaron was forced to replay the event over and over as punishment.

  “What do you think it’s like?” Aaron waited for Josh to look up. “To wake up after three months in a hospital bed, not knowing who you are? Not recognizing anything about your life? Finding out your mother and sister are dead, and feeling nothing because you can’t even remember them.”