Chapter 13
Myssa
Vix grabs her purse and starts to heads around the bar, just as Knox comes off the elevator.
“Hello, Myssa." Knox draws out, staring at me with a tilt of his head like he's examining me.
“Uh, Hi, Knox.” I raise an eyebrow at him.
Vix glances between the two of us, looking as confused as I do. But he just stands there, still staring at me like I have something on my face.
“Earth to Knox! You good?” I ask, waving my hand in front of his face.
“Oh yeah, uh, you guys ready to go?” He asks snapping out of his stupor.
“Yeah, weirdo,” Vix chimes, rolling her eyes.
After walking onto the elevator, we stand there in uncomfortable silence until the door open and we step into the lobby.
Breaking the silence, I ask, “Twenty-four Cakes?”
“Yes!” they both say in unison.
Walking out, I feel that odd sensation again ripple through me, and my steps falter.
“You ok?” Knox asks, watching me closely.
“Yeah, just felt…” unable to explain, my words trail off.
“Felt what?” He leans toward me eagerly.
“Nothing, never mind. Let's go,” I say, shaking it off as we walk towards the parking lot.
I’m not ready to have this conversation quite yet. I’m still trying to figure out how I’m going to start it. Hi guys, pretty sure I have a stalker from another realm. Can you please pass the syrup? Mentally groaning, I lean against the car in defeat.
Knox unlocks the doors to his Camero and steps away. I don’t give Vix any time to argue and climb into the back without hesitation. He holds his hand out for Vix to take.
“What’s this?” she asks, looking down at his hand with a furrowed brow.
“I’m being a gentleman and offering you my hand into the car,” he says with a grin.
“Since when?” she asks sarcastically, folding her arms across her chest.
The grin on Knox’s face morphs to a scowl, and he hesitates for a beat too long. Vix sighs with a dramatic eye roll. She pushes his hand out of the way and moves to sit in the car without his assistance.
Knox is rooted in place, his hand on the door, staring at Vix. His jaw ticks. Finally, he closes the door.
“Really? Don’t you think that was a little mean?” I say quietly.
She huffs, looking out the window and grumbles, “Well, maybe he shouldn’t have been flirting with the blonde earlier.”
“What was that?” I ask in surprise, making sure I heard what she said. That small admittance of jealousy was the closest she’s ever come to revealing her feelings for him. Before she can answer, Knox opens the driver side door and slides in.
The tension between Knox and Vix is painfully obvious, and he stares at her for a minute before starting the car. Music fills the air, saving us all from further conversation as he starts down the road.
Staring out the window, I again question my sanity.
Was what happened tonight even real, or am I truly losing my mind?
Maybe this is what happens when you bury your grief.
You make shit up in your head. The only thing tying this to reality is the fact that my arm still bears marks from what happened.
But sometimes I wonder if I just did that to myself somehow.
How do I tell my best friends exactly what is going on. Would they even believe me? And if they don’t, where does that leave us? I can’t lose them; they are all I have left. I stare at them both from the backseat.
I catch Knox checking on me in the rear-view mirror.
I’m so tired of hiding this secret. This burden I have been cursed to carry.
I gently run my fingers over the now-healing scar Jasper left on me.
A constant reminder that it seems so fucking real.
I mean, seriously, I’ve been questioning myself for months now.
I’ve always loved horror movies, but I never thought I would be living my own.
We pull up to the restaurant and park. Twenty-four Cakes is the go-to for late night or, shall I say, early morning breakfast. Nothing like pancakes and bacon at 3 am after a night of partying.
We’ve been going there for as long as we’ve known each other.
It’s a typical diner with bar seating and tables and chairs throughout with a modern vibe.
Vix doesn’t waste any time getting out of the car on her own and letting me out. Knox, still clearly confused by Vix’s actions, walks to the door to open it for us. Vix scoffs and marches past him, while I mouth a silent thank you as we both get in.
Vix and I stare at each other creating silent warfare with our eyes as we step inside. Mine saying would you stop, and her quiet counter with no, the fuck I won’t.
Then, the one voice that grates on Vix’s nerves more than anyone pierces through the air.
“Your usual booth, Knoxie?”
We both snap out of our silent heated exchange and look at the twenty-year-old. Her long dark hair is slicked back in a perfect ponytail, which bops as she smiles gleefully up at Knox.
“Yes, please, Rosie.” He winks at her.
She giggles, starry-eyed, while completely ignoring us.
“Right this way.” She brushes past him, tilting her head in a gesture for him to follow her, while swaying her hips to get his attention.
Vix rolls her eyes and mimics Rosie dramatically, then proceeds to give the universal sign of gagging herself with her own finger.
I can’t help but break out into a snicker and I see Rosie’s glare snap back for a second, looking at us like we’re children in trouble. I try to stifle my smirk, sliding between Knox and Vix.
Knox is completely oblivious to Vix’s antics.
“What’s so funny?” He looks between the both of us.
“Nothing,” Vix quips, softening her expression and batting her eyelashes playfully, “Knoxie.”
“Fuck you both,” he says, and neither of us can contain the laughter anymore.
Before we can get ourselves under control again, we hear the familiar voice of our favorite waitress.
“Hey, Dolls, the usuals?” she asks as she puts down three waters.
Angel has been working here since the opening of the diner nearly forty years ago. Her blonde updo and outfit looks like it came from an eighties time capsule. We adore her, especially for the shit she always gives Knox.
While Vix and I both nod in unison, Knox pretends to look over the menu as if it's his first time. Angel stands there, tapping her toe at Knox.
“Knooooox?” she says in a stern drawl.
“Ah yes, I think I will haaavee the…” he trails off as if he doesn’t know the menu by heart.
“Knox,” she snaps.
“Ok, fine, Angel, the usual. Jeez, you don’t have to be so mean about it.” He pouts.
“Oh, that’s not mean, Knox. If you want me to be mean, babe,” she leans down towards his ear, “I could ask the cook to make you something special,” she says with a sinister smile, emphasizing special in air quotes.
Knox’s playful demeanor turns solemn as his throat bobs.
She laughs at him, shaking her head she turns her gaze back to Vix and I. “It will be right up, loves.”
“Wait, if they are your loves, what am I?” He pouts, sitting more upright in the booth as she starts to walk away.
“A pain in my ass, Knox, always a pain in my ass.” She glares at him over her glasses.
The mood noticeably lightens, and it feels like we’re back to being normal.
“I thought I was your favorite Angel?” he says, standing his ground like a child.
“Clearly, you’re delusional,” Vix says.
Knox grabs his chest. “You wound me with your vicious words, Tails.”
Vix rolls her eyes and scoffs.
“Let me get your orders in and I’ll be back with your drinks.” Angel turns and heads back towards the kitchen.
“You know you love me!” Knox shouts at her back.
“Like a hole in the head!” she snaps loudly back, not even bothering turning around.
Vix and I burst out laughing.
“No tip for her,” Knox says as he slumps back in the booth.
“Maybe if you stopped giving her a hard time...” but he cuts me off before I can finish.
“Nonsense. She loves it when I give her a hard time.”
“Suuure she does.” I smile.
As we catch up on our lives and talk about how Vix is adjusting to the new job, Angel comes back with our drinks.
“Diet Coke for Vix, Fanta for Myssa, and a coke for Knoxie.”
Biting my lip to hold in a laugh, I watch the heat creep into Knox’s cheeks.
“Thank you,” he says bashfully.
“Food will be right up.” She smiles.
We continue our small talk, and it occurs to me that I never really got the story of how Knox ended up at Frequency.
“So, how did you end up at the club, Knox?” I ask while we wait for our food.
“Z and I go way back. We’ve known each other since we were kids. It was always a dream of his to open a club. I bounced at other clubs to learn and get the experience I needed to be where I’m at now,” he explains.
“That’s awesome,” I say.
“Yeah, I can't imagine myself anywhere else. Zayne has really been like an older brother to me. I owe him,” he states proudly.
Angel walks up to our table, expertly balancing our orders, Knox takes them quickly passing the plates to each of us.
“Thanks, beautiful.” Knox says, looking up at Angel, clearly trying to butter her up again.
She winks back at him playfully.
“Enjoy, kids.” She walks away.
As I take off my jacket, my stomach growls. Tonight’s events have made us ravenous. The conversations flows easily, and the more I get to hear about this Zayne guy, the more I’d like to meet him. Funny how we never met before.
“I told Myssa he is totally her type, too,” Vix says, pointing her fork at me.
Knox looks between us, but doesn’t say anything.
I roll my eyes. “Whatever.”
Resting my elbows on the table, I’m about to lay into Vix, but Knox grabs my wrist before turning my arm to see the sizable wound marring my skin. His gaze follows it down to my wrist.
“Myssa, what the hell happened?” His reaction and the tone in his voice puts me on edge. I’m already ashamed of what’s been going on. Embarrassed about the clear delusions I’ve been having. I know I came here with the intent of telling them, but his reaction has me second guessing myself.
“It's nothing.” I tuck my arm back to my side.
“The fuck it is.” His face turns stern as he hits me with a barrage of questions.
“What happened? Did someone attack you?”
I’m catapulted back into that moment. Jasper's laugh, and pain he’d etched his mark on me. How can I even begin to explain this?
It’s simple, I can’t. The humiliation of trying to explain such a far-fetched scenario freezes the words before they can leave my mouth. Before I can stop it, I can feel the wetness on my cheeks as my body trembles.
Knox and Vix are both staring at me, the worry heavily prominent on their faces.
Six months ago, we were seated at this very diner.
My two best friends wore similar expressions of concern after I had received the news of Nik.
The memory of their unconditional support washes away my doubts.
I need to talk to someone. I can't keep holding this chaos inside me any longer.
I need their help to carry this burden. Maybe it will free me, if only just a little.
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. Hell, I don’t even believe me.” I wipe my cheeks.
“Myssa, you are one of my best friends, so please tell me. I promise I won’t judge you. Believe me when I say I have seen a lot of weird shit,” Knox says sympathetically.
I take a huge breath. “It started six months ago, after Nicole died.”
Knox gently takes my other hand in his, his warm touch a small gesture of his support.
I start to unravel everything: the weird nightmares, Jasper holding my sister's soul in exchange for whatever it is he wants. I describe the weird shifting back and forth to what seems to be another world all together, and how I thought all of it was just my subconscious. I explained the grief I’ve put on hold was starting to grow, and I believe the situation I’m in now is the result.
The mark on my arm, though, showed just how all too real it was.
That this “reminder” was a result from the hands of Jasper.
Knox’s grip tightens and is shoulders stiffen as he stares at me. Instead of the sympathy that I’ve braced myself for, his brows furrow, his jaw ticks, and a vein pops out on the side of his forehead. I see the tells that Knox can’t hide.
He’s pissed.
“Myssa, I need you to stay with Vix for a few nights.” The low firm tone in his voice has me startled. Why isn’t he calling me crazy? Or saying things like, oh, Silly Myssa, this is just all in your head?
Still fixated on his eyes, I search for anything to show me he’s kidding.
To show me that I’m delusional, and that this is all just a hallucination of my own creation.
But he isn’t. He lets go of my hand, and I shrink back my seat, lost in the sudden knowledge that his whole demeanor is screaming that he knows something. He turns to look at Vix.
“You’re serious?” I whisper.
“Vix?” He ignores my question as he reluctantly looks back at the wound on my arm.
I see his chest rise and fall quickly, as though the sight of it is making him lose control.
But why? For six months, I’ve held this in, and now my friends are acting as if the threat is factual?
That all of this might actually be fucking real?
I look at him, confused, and speak up louder, finding my voice again. “Wait, what? Why?”
“I got her,” she said with concern, looking back at him.
I whip a glare at her. I’m met with a guilty expression before she looks away from me again. It’s as though a secret they have been keeping was just exposed. I slowly shake my head in disbelief.
“No,” I protest. As good as that felt to get off my chest, what I don't need is a babysitter.
“I’m ok, Knox. I know this all sounds weird but—”.
“This isn’t up for debate. Myssa, go to Vix’s,” he snaps. He takes a deep breath and sighs as he softens his voice.
“Myssa, I need you to stay at Vix’s, so if you have these nightmares again, someone can wake you up.”
I screw my face up. “You act like Freddy Krueger is haunting me. I mean, I did this to myself clearly, right? Maybe this is some kind of breakdown from not grieving?”
But I know I’m grasping at straws.
Looking between them, I silently plea that this isn’t true, but as they both avert my gaze, I frown.
“You’re serious,” I say, taken aback by their silent exchange.
“Just trust me.” He reaches for my hand again, squeezing gently. “Please.”
I hear a small twinge of desperation in his voice, before he release me.
“I gotta go. Vix, take the Camaro.” Knox stands, tossing his keys to her as he pulls a hundred out of his wallet and takes his phone off the table.
“Dinner is on me,” he states matter-of-factly.
Vix nods.
“I’ll text you later Myssa, Vix. Thank you.” Before I can say anything else to him, Knox turns to walk to the front door, already making a phone call. He stops to turn around and look at me one more time as he starts to speak to whoever is on the other end.