The Unbecoming of Mara Dyer - Hodkin Michelle - Страница 16
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I stared straight back into them, defiant. “Yes.”
“So if I call the vet’s office tomorrow morning and ask about it, they’ll confirm?”
“You don’t trust me?”
My mother didn’t respond. She just sat there, eyebrows raised, waiting for me to say something.
I gritted my teeth, then spoke. “The vet’s name is Dr. Shaw, and her office near school,” I said. “I don’t remember the street address.”
Her expression didn’t change.
I was sick of this. “I’m going to my room,” I said. When I turned around, she let me go.
I closed the door a bit too forcefully. Trapped in my room, I couldn’t delay thinking about what happened today any longer. Noah. Mabel. Her owner. His death.
Things were changing. Sweat pebbled my skin, even though I knew it wasn’t possible. It wasn’t possible. I was in class at nine this morning, when that bastard died. He had to have died earlier. The coroner, or whoever he was, was wrong. Even he’d said he was just guessing.
That was it. I imagined my conversation with him. I’d thought he snuck up on me too quietly, but he didn’t sneak up on me at all. He was already dead. The whole thing was just another hallucination—par for the course, really, considering my PTSD.
But still. Today felt … different. Confirmation that I was now crazier than I’d known it was possible for me to be. My mother worked with only the mildly disturbed. I was full on delusional. Abnormal. Psychotic.
When I joined my family for dinner that night, I felt strangely, disturbingly calm as I ate, as if watching the whole thing from a distance. I even managed to be polite to my mother. In a way, it was oddly comforting, the conviction of my insanity. The man died before I met him this morning. Wait, no—I never met him. I invented the conversation between us to give me a feeling of power over the situation in which I felt powerless; my mother’s words, but they sounded about right. I was powerless to bring Rachel back, she’d said, after I was released from the hospital. Right before she mentioned—pushed—the idea of counseling and/or drugs to help me cope. And of course now, I was powerless to leave Florida and go back home. But a skinny, neglected, abandoned dog was something I could fix.
So that was it, then. I was truly crazy. But then why did I feel like there was something else? Something I was missing?
My mother’s laughter at the dinner table brought me back to the present. Her whole face lit up when she smiled, and I felt guilty for freaking her out. I decided not to tell her about my little adventure today; if she watched me any closer, she’d turn into the Eye of Sauron. And then she’d follow through on her threat of therapy and medication. Neither option sounded particularly appealing, and really, now that I knew what was happening, I could deal with it.
Until I fell asleep.
16
BEFORE
WE PULLED INTO A LONG DRIVEWAY guarded by a rusting iron gate. Thick branches of leafless trees twisted over the car, rasping in the wind. Our headlights provided the only light on the silent road. Despite the artificial heat, I shivered.
Jude put his arm around me and turned down Death Cab on the speakers. I looked out the window. The headlights flashed over an idling car about twenty feet away, and I instantly recognized it as Claire’s. The glass was fogged and she cut the engine as we pulled up. I reached for the door and Jude reached for my waist. I gritted my teeth. I was already on edge, and wasn’t up to fending him off again tonight.
I twisted away. “They’re waiting for us.”
He didn’t let me go. “You sure you’re ready?” He looked skeptical.
“Hell, yes,” I lied. I smiled for emphasis.
“Because we can turn around if you want.”
I can’t say his suggestion wasn’t appealing. Warm covers usually win over midnight excursions in the freezing cold.
But tonight was different. Rachel had been begging me to do this since last year. And now that she had Claire in her corner, my neuroses could cost me my best friend.
So instead of saying yes, emphatically yes, I rolled my eyes. “I said I was in. I’m in.”
“Or, we could stay here.” Jude pulled me toward him but I turned my head so that he caught my cheek.
“Do you want to turn around?” I asked, even though I knew the answer.
Jude pulled away, irritated. “I’ve already done this. It’s just an old building. Big deal.”
He launched himself out of the car and I followed. He’d be pissy later, but it was worth it. We’d been dating for only two months, and during the first one, I actually liked him. Who wouldn’t? He was the picture of all-American wholesomeness. Dark blond hair and green eyes, same as Claire’s. Big linebacker shoulders. And he was sweet. Syrup sweet. For the first month.
But lately? Not as much.
The passenger door of Claire’s car slammed and Rachel bounded out to meet me, her dark hair flouncing behind her.
“Mara! I’m so glad you came. Claire thought you’d chicken out at the last minute.” She hugged me.
I glanced at Claire, still huddled by the car. Her eyes narrowed slightly in return. She looked unfriendly and disappointed, likely hoping that I wouldn’t show up.
I lifted my chin. “And miss my chance to spend the night in this illustrious insane asylum? Never.” I placed an arm over Rachel and grinned at her. Then looked pointedly at Claire.
“What took you so long?” Claire asked us.
Jude shrugged. “Mara overslept.”
Claire smiled coldly. “Why am I not surprised?”
I opened my mouth to say something obnoxious, but Rachel took my hand which had frozen solid in the few moments I’d been outside and spoke first.
“It doesn’t matter, she’s here now. This is going to be so much fun, I promise.”
I looked up at the imposing Gothic building in front of us. Fun. Oh, yes.
Jude blew into his hands and pulled his gloves on. I steeled myself in anticipation of the long-ass night to come. I could do this. I would do this. Claire had made fun of me for freaking out after Rachel’s birthday party for the last time. I was sick of hearing about the Ouija board incident. And after tonight, I wouldn’t have to.
As I stared at the building, fear seeped into my bloodstream. Rachel withdrew her camera from her pocket and opened the shutter, then took my right hand again as Jude moved to hold my left. Still, their company and the contact didn’t make what we were about to do less terrifying. But I’d be damned before I freaked out in front of Claire.
Claire took out her video camera from her backpack before slinging it over her shoulder. She started walking toward the building and Rachel followed, pulling me along behind her. We reached a dilapidated fence with several NO TRESPASSING signs plastered along the length of the weathered wood, and I reflexively looked back up at the ominous institution above me, towering over us like something out of a Poe poem. The architecture of the Tamerlane State Lunatic Asylum was formidable, made more sinister by the creeping ivy that snaked its way along the front steps and expansive brick walls. The stone window facades crumbled in decay.
The plan was to spend the night in the abandoned building and head home at dawn. Rachel and Claire wanted to thoroughly explore it, and try to find the children’s wing and the rooms where shock therapy was administered. According to Rachel’s canonical horror literature, those would be the rooms most likely to contain any paranormal activity, and she and Claire planned to document our adventure for posterity. Hooray.
Jude inched closer to me, and I was actually grateful for his presence as Rachel and Claire scaled the rotting wood fence. Then it was my turn. Jude gave me a lift but I hesitated as I grabbed the fragile wood. After a few words of encouragement, I finally hoisted myself over with his help. I landed hard, into a rustling pile of decaying leaves.
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