Chapter 18
eighteen
. . .
“No.”
I rocket up out of my bed and look around wildly. There is nothing around me. Pitch-dark, vast emptiness. I’m back in the void. I cover my face with my hands, curling into myself. This has to be a dream. There is no way. There is absolutely no way.
“Kit!” I roar, anger boiling up around me. I swear, flames spark throughout the void.
His voice drops in, “Morning, sunshine.”
I could strangle him. “Are you kidding me?! You possessed me again? How could you?”
He scoffs. “You didn’t think I was going to stay with that other guy, did you? He was fine, but he was too old. Not viable for the long-haul.”
“I thought you let me go.” My voice shatters. I wish it didn’t.
“Lace, come on. It hasn’t even been a week.
I can’t leave yet! There’s still so much we can do!
And it’ll be easier for me to help you with the competition if we’re sharing one body.
” He sighs quietly. “I promise we will not be together forever. I’ll find another way to…
I’ll find an equally viable host, but you have to let me stick around until then. ”
I don’t respond. The fury is consuming me to the point where I’m shaking. Shaking enough I am positive Kit can feel it on the outside. I was free.
His voice is gentle as he says, “I promise, as soon as I can, I’ll leave you be. You’ll never have to see me again. You trust me, right?”
I thought I did. Yesterday, he asked me the same question, and I said yes. Today, my view has changed. I grit my teeth and respond coldly and honestly. “No, I do not trust you.”
He intakes sharply, but doesn’t say anything else.
Willing my mind to be blank, I lie on my bed staring into the darkness of my void, and I come up with an idea.
I squeeze my eyes shut and conjure up a pad of paper and a pen.
A basic yellow legal pad appears before me as well as a ballpoint pen.
I’m going to write. I may not be able to read in here, but I can write.
The problem is, I’ve never been all that creative in the fiction sense, so what I write has to be true.
I think about August, as I always do when given a chance to think.
I uncap the pen and begin to list everything I can remember about her: her favorite color, favorite food, what she smelled like, what her apartment smelled like, her least favorite subject in high school, what she did for work.
I write down how we first met (Kindergarten, a timeless classic), the name of her first boyfriend, the name of her first girlfriend, her mom’s name, what her mom does for work, what her grandmother did for work.
I write down my favorite memory of the two of us—a simple day at the pool when we were in eighth grade—the flavor of ice cream she brought me when I got my tonsils out, the first sip of alcohol we both took.
If I were doing this out in the real world, my hand would be cramping by now, but that’s not how things work in here.
I could write for hours, so that’s what I do.
After I’ve scribbled through an entire legal pad, Kit’s voice comes through. “Knock, knock.”
I jolt then square my shoulders. “Who’s there?” I ask blandly, not looking up from my pen.
“Your friendly neighborhood demon,” he says. I imagine him rocking back and forth on his heels before he says the next bit. “Can I show you something?”
I don’t respond.
“Lace, I’m going to show you whether or not you say yes, so you may as well just say yes.”
“No.”
“Pretty please?”
I sigh, long and hard. “Fine. What?”
“Close your eyes.”
I do as I’m told, setting my paper aside and lying back on my bed with my eyes squeezed shut.