I'm Like Niagara Falls

 

Chapter Seven

 

 

The plane lands safely, much to my surprise. I mean, my luck has been kind of…nonexistent lately so it wouldn’t have come as a surprise if the plane had crashed.

Chase and Brody sat together on the flight, talking conspiratorially the entire time. It’d be safe to say that I’m more than a little curious as to what they’re talking about. I sat beside Maggie, while Mr. Davenport and Logan sat together. The Adapter was in the seat across from Chase and Brody so that they could keep an eye on him.

Suffice to say, the Adapter didn’t crash the plane or try to kill me once again.

 

When we get off the plane though, things start to get interesting. Walking through the airport, I try to catch up to Chase, but he and the Adapter are weaving through people so quickly that I eventually give up. So instead, I hang back with the rest of the group. Logan and Brody are whispering conspiratorially now, while Mr. Davenport and Maggie walk together, father and daughter. A thought strikes me—is Maggie Chase, Brody and Logan’s sister?

Suddenly, I’m not walking by myself anymore—Brody is beside me.

“Why the frown?” He asks me, slowing his pace to keep stride with me as we exit the airport, Chase and the Adapter nowhere in sight.

“Chase is acting weird.” I say, in explanation. Brody’s face doesn’t change its expression, but instead stays neutral.

“It’s a rough time for everybody.” Brody tells me, his neutral expression finally giving as a flash of sadness passes over his face.

“I’m really sorry.” I say, not knowing what else to say, but feeling guilty nonetheless.

Brody looks angry. “It’s not your fault.” He says irritably and I wince. His face stays angry, but he doesn’t say anything else.

“Where did Chase go?” I ask finally, curious. Brody shrugs and I frown. “Don’t even try that, Brody. I know you know.” I snap, angry at him for lying. Or, okay, not even lying. But for withholding the truth, I guess.

“Here.” Brody says gruffly, shoving a folded piece of paper into my hands. I crinkle my nose and then start to open the paper, pausing briefly to open the door to Logan’s car. I pause.

“Um, we left these cars in California.” I say, motioning towards Chase’s sleek black Porsche, and Logan’s dark blue convertible Mercedes.

Logan shakes his head, worry leaking onto his face. “No we didn’t.” He says, slightly confused, slightly panicked. He shoots a look at his father.

Mr. Davenport looks at me understandingly. “Skye, it’s possible that hallucinations are a symptom of your…illness.” He tells me in a soft, doctor-like voice. I do my best to fill my lungs with air.

“So…whose cars were we in?” I ask, confused and shaky. Mr. Davenport answers.

“Rentals.” He explains. Before I can respond—not that I was going to—Chase and the Adapter walk towards the cars where we are all standing.

The expression on Chase’s face is a mix between grief and pain. He walks up to me, wiping the emotion off his face. I start to talk immediately.

“What’s wrong?” I ask him in regards to the look on his face. He looks like he’s about to do something he really doesn’t want to. It’s the same look I get on my face before cleaning.

“I’m leaving,” Chase says, his voice mixed with emotion. I frown, panic rising.

“What do you mean your leaving?” I ask, panic seeping into my voice. Chase notices and he takes my hands in his, trying to calm me.

“There’s something I need to take care of.” He explains, very vaguely.

“Can’t it wait?” I ask, knowing I sound needy. To hell with it! I’m dying, and he can’t even stay with me for the last week that I’m going to be um, living?

Chase, instead of answering, clenches his teeth and looks away for a minute, his eyes full of emotion—none of it good. “Please?” I ask, quietly.

Chase shakes his head, teeth still clenched. “It’s going to be okay, Skye.” Chase says, almost like he’s trying to convince himself as well. “You’ll have my mom and dad, Brody and Logan, and Maggie with you. You’re going to be okay.” 

I feel my mouth drop open. He can’t honestly believe that I’m okay with this—with him leaving and me maybe never seeing him again.

“I’m dying.” I say harshly. “You can’t tell me everything’s going to be okay! It’s not okay. Nothing is. I’m dying, Chase! For God’s sake, I’m going to die. Why can’t you act like that even bothers you?” I ask, my voice raising.

Before I can stop myself I’m crying. And not your single-tear down the cheek crying. This is more the wild water works type.

I feel my knees go weak when the tears start, and I’m about to fall to the ground but Chase pulls me up, his strong arms holding all my weight. I cry into his shoulder, most likely destroying his shirt, but he doesn’t seem so care.

“Shhh,” Chase soothes me, his voice silky yet rough. “Shhh, baby, its okay.” I sob into his shirt without a care that everybody else is probably hearing it.

“It’s not okay.” I sob, my voice muffled by Chase’s shirt. Suddenly, Chase pulls away, taking my face in between his hands.

“Skye, look at me.” He says, eyes steady. I sniff, raising my eyes to meet his. Tears keep pouring from my eyes and I try my best to stop them.

“I’m not going to let you die.” Chase says with such conviction that I’m almost convinced. “Do you hear me, Skye? I’m not ready to lose you.”

I nod noncommittally, and then blink, rubbing my eyes. My breathing becomes unsteady.

“What if I never see you again?” I ask Chase, my voice breaking. I start crying again. And okay, yes, I’m a mess. When am I not though?

Chase shakes his head, dismissing the thought. “You will.”

I sigh, feeling another tear escape from my eyes. Chase brushes the tear away with his thumb before leaning towards me, kissing me softly. And then again, with urgency this time—a goodbye. I pull away, and Chase rests his forehead against mine, and I feel my stomach do flips at the sight of him. Sometimes I forget how beautiful he is.

“I have to go.” Chase says, not moving. I feel tears blur my vision and watch as Chase pulls something from his pocket and hands it to me. I look down at my hand where it lays and feel tears drop, enabling me from seeing what it is. Chase smiles and explains.

“You’ve eyed that necklace down every time we’ve passed it in the store.” Chase says, and I’m momentarily shocked that he’s noticed. The necklace is a delicate gold chain carrying an intricately designed heart, the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on, besides Chase.

“It’s yours.” Chase says, smiling. I blink up at him, at a loss for words.

“What is?” I ask, stupidly.

“My heart. It’s yours.” He tells me, gently taking the necklace from my palm and motioning for me to turn so he can put it on me. Mechanically, I lift my hair so Chase can put the necklace on me. After the chain is resting softly against my skin, Chase leans down to kiss the back of my neck gently. “I love you, Skye. I’d walk through hell for you.” He says, and I sigh sadly, turning around.

“I love you too, Chase. I really, really do.” I tell him, kissing him one last time before he walks slowly away, the bored and frustrated Adapter in tow.

They get into Chase’s Porsche, speeding away—leaving me, a mess, behind.

I walk slowly back to Logan’s car in a daze, only slightly aware of a growing pain in my stomach. At first, I write the pain off to emotional stress but the more I ignore it, the more painful it grows. It’s as if someone is slowly digging a sharp knife into my belly button, and as I climb into Logan’s car where everyone waits, I do my best to ignore the pain.

I crawl into the backseat of the car, resting my head against the window and clenching my teeth, with Brody in the seat next to me and Maggie in the seat next to his. Mr. Davenport is driving Logan’s car while Logan drives shotgun. I breathe in slowly, shutting out the pain that comes with the breath, hoping nobody notices that I’m wincing.

As Mr. Davenport starts driving, Brody turns to me, his brow furrowed.

“You okay?” He asks me quietly, so that Maggie (even though she has her iPod in) can’t hear us. I manage a nod and look out the window, unaware of my hands that are curling into fists—my nails cutting half-moons into the palms of my hands.

“Skye…” Brody says in a low voice that reminds me so much of Chase that a pain emerges in a place approximate to my heart. And okay. Not that I don’t love pain (pure sarcasm, BTW) but this is a little much.

“Brody, don’t even.” I snap, not meaning to sound so rude. The car grows silent, with Brody taken aback and Mr. Davenport and Logan becoming aware of Brody and my conversation. “I’m sorry.” I whisper. The pain in my stomach is growing more intense and I struggle for my next breath, pressing a hand to the center of my abdomen.

I shut my eyes tightly, breathing shallowly, lowly.

When I hear a muttered curse beside me, I open my eyes widely and stare, confused, as Brody’s hands move mine off my stomach roughly. He tugs my shirt high enough up that he can see my stomach, where the pain is. I’m about to ask him how he knew that that’s where I was hurting when I realize that there’s something slippery on my hands—blood.

Brody cusses again, louder this time, and I shrug out of one of my many sweaters and pass it with shaky hands to him. Brody clenches his jaw, taking the sweater from me and pressing it against my stomach to stop the bleeding.

Maggie pulls her headphones out of her ears, her eyes panicked. “Skye, what happened?” She asks, her voice rising in panic. Logan cusses and tells his father to drive faster.

“I’m fine, Maggie.” I manage to say, breathing slower and slower. I thought Mr. Davenport said I had a week or so left before I…y’know…kick the bucket. So explain to me why I feel like I’m dying this very second.

You know the show Who Wants to be a Millionaire? Yeah, well, hello. Million dollar question, right here.

“Breathe, Skye.” Brody instructs me, as if it’s that easy. I take a shaky breath, sounding like a ninety year old man instead of a seventeen year old girl. “We’re almost home.”

I nod distractedly, closing my eyes tightly until Logan’s car comes to a complete stop. Blinking, I let Brody carry me to the house, up the front steps and into the front hall, which is as far as we make it before I start coughing. Which may not seem like that big of a deal, but did I mention that I was coughing up blood? Might’ve failed to mention that.

Brody sets me gently on the carpeted ground, calling for his mother while everyone else crowds around me, various looks of panic and fear on their faces.

When Margaret appears above me, her blonde hair perfectly arranged, I feel my eyes smart with tears. This is the first time I’ve seen her in so long.

Margaret—Mrs. Davenport—leans down, her petite body clad in jeans and a white cardigan, brushing hair off my face. When her hand makes contact with my skin I instantly feel better. Not completely, but I do feel slightly better.

For those of you that don’t know, Margaret is a Healer. This means that she can heal any physical ailment with the touch of her hand. All physical ailments except for mine, however.

“Hey, Skye.” Margaret whispers, casually pressing her hand against my forehead to check for a fever. Of course, I’m burning up. Margaret gives me a weary smile and looks up at the group around us, searching the faces. When her eyes land on Mr. Davenport she gasps sharply. Her husband—whom she thought to be dead—is standing there, face serene. She stares at him, eyes widening, unable to speak.

And to ruin this beautiful moment, queue me.

Clutching my stomach, I start to cough up more blood, causing everyone to freak out just a tiny bit. Margaret snaps back to reality and tears her eyes away from her alive husband, turning to me and pressing her hands against my stomach where I’m bleeding. It looks like I’ve been stabbed, to be frank. And it feels like it too.

While Margaret’s hands smooth over the gash in my stomach, the wound heals up, the skin mending together. The pain eases and the coughing stops. I sit up, taking deep breaths, covered in my own blood.

“You are quite literally a life saver, Margaret.” I say, managing a smile. She throws her arms around me, hugging me tightly. In that moment, I feel myself missing my own mother so intensely that I feel sick again.

“What’re your symptoms?” Margaret asks me, already being informed of my…dying issue.

Brody speaks up. “High fever, constant chills, bleeding nose, migraine, fatigue, nausea, and now this.” He informs his mother, listing off every symptom I’ve had. I frown, hating the worried looks on everybody’s faces.

“Can I do anything for you?” Margaret asks me, at a loss for how to help. I grin, nodding at Mr. Davenport.

“You can go say hello to your husband.” I say, giving her a wink. Margaret smiles, hugging me one more time.

“Brody, Logan, please go help Skye get cleaned up.” She says to her sons, and then pauses, eyes narrowing. “Where’s Chase?”

The grin slips off my face and I look away from the faces all peering at me concernedly. “He had some things to take care of.” I say, voice tense.

Margaret nods, accepting it without question, knowing something else is going on, but not inquiring. For which I am hugely grateful for.

Brody and Logan lean down, each taking an elbow and lifting me gently from the ground, carrying most of my weight as I limp toward my old room. We walk—limp, for me—in silence for most of the way. The Davenports house is so huge is feels like a castle sometimes. And to mention it, it sort of looks like one too.

“Do you guys live in a castle?” I ask suddenly, startling both Logan and Brody. Hiding a smile, Logan shakes his head.

“No, but it sort of looks like one.” He says, looking at me. “How’re you feeling?”
I frown. “Is anyone ever going to stop asking me that?” I ask, my voice tired. I blink sleepily and Brody notices.

We reach my room and I limp by myself to my bed, falling on it in exhaustion. I sigh, curling on my side, ignoring the pounding headache I have.

Logan pauses at my doorway. “Get some sleep, okay? When you wake up dinner will be ready and we can all eat.” He says, giving me a reassuring smile, as if eating will make me feel better. Actually, the thought of eating is making me sick.

Logan continues to pause by the doorframe, waiting for Brody, who is standing next to me bed, looking at me worriedly. He looks up at his brother sharply. “I’ll be there in a minute.” He says. Logan frowns slightly, almost imperceptibly, and gives Brody a look that I can’t decipher.

In the fetus position, I sigh again, stretching out on my back, unable to get comfortable. Now whether that is a symptom or my own personal issue I’ll never know.

If I had to bet on it though, I’d say that it’s mostly just me.

I look up at Brody, noting the worry evident on his face. “I’m okay.” I tell him, knowing that it’s not true, but hey, whatever I can do to help.

“You’re lying.” He says, without looking at me, hearing it in my voice. I scoff.

“Am not!” I protest, yawning widely so that “not” sounds like “yacht”.

“Oh,” Brody says, noticing my tired eyes again. “I’m sorry, I’ll leave. Get some sleep.”

He turns to walk out of my room but my voice stops him. The thought of being by myself, left with my symptoms, and thoughts, frightens me.

“Could you stay?” I ask quietly. Brody turns, brow furrowed. He nods slightly.

“If you want me to.” He answers; almost like he doesn’t want to, but beneath that I can hear relief in his voice.

He stands, unsure of where to sit, and I notice, nodding to the empty side of my bed. Brody shakes his head, eyes uncertain. I realize what it may look like and I laugh.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” I say, shaking my head at myself. “Sit there, then.” I offer, nodding my head at the big chair diagonal from my bed. Brody walks over and sits down in it, rubbing his eyes as if he’s tired.

We sit in silence for a moment; before it starts to bother me (I really hate silence).

“Brody?” I ask quietly. He lifts his head, looking at me.

“Yeah?”

“Where did Chase go?” I ask, voice growing sad. I need Chase right now, I really do. And for him not to be here is hard for me. Beyond hard.

Brody frowns, looking away from my sad eyes. “I don’t know, Skye.” He says quietly, as if to mute the lie in his voice. I sit up on my bed, glaring at Brody.

“Why are you lying to me?” I ask sharply, but sadly as well. An emotion—one I can’t place—flashes over Brody’s face quickly.

“Look, Skye. I can’t tell you. Even if I could, I wouldn’t.” Brody says, his voice slightly apologetic. I narrow my eyes.

“Brody, please tell me.” I say, a hint of persuasion leaking into my voice without me meaning to. Brody notices and frowns deeply, getting up from the chair.

“Don’t you dare use your Talent to get me to tell you.” He says angrily.

“I didn’t mean—“

“Enough!” Brody yells, eyes giving mixed emotion, predominately anger. I flinch and he notices, his face softening. “Skye, I’m sor—“

I hold up a hand, stopping him. “I think I’m going to sleep now.” I say, voice neutral, not giving away any emotion. I turn my back to Brody and close my eyes, hearing him sigh.

I really hate being yelled at. It makes me feel so awful all the time.

I listen to Brody’s footsteps fade as he leaves my room, closing the door tightly behind him. What bothers me is that Brody—and most likely Logan too—know where Chase went. And neither of them will tell me, I know that for a fact.

Remembering something, I reach into my pants pockets and pull the creased note up so that I can read it. I unfold it, the paper soft, and start to read.

Skye,

I hope you’re not mad at me for leaving. If you are, I understand. But I need you to know that I’m doing this for you. And I hope that you’ll forgive me.

If I don’t come back, please remember that I love you. I’ve loved you from the moment I came to your school and you refused to talk to me. From the moment we had a food fight in the kitchen. From the moment you entered my life, Skye, I didn’t have a chance. My heart was, and is, yours. It always will be.

Please forgive me for leaving you. If I could be with you right now, I would be. But as of now, it’s impossible. There’s something that I need to take care of, and once it’s over, maybe everything will be okay again.

Do you remember when you promised me that you’d never quit smiling? Keep that promise, Skye. Don’t stop smiling. Don’t stop living.

I’m going to fix this. Whatever it takes.

But for now, know that I love you, and that every moment I’m away is spent wishing I was with you. I’m not going to let you die.

-Chase

 

I refold the note, head and heart swarming with emotion, feeling slightly numb with my new knowledge. I don’t need Brody or Logan to tell me where Chase is, because now I know.

Getting out of bed, I walk towards the door, throwing it open with a slam. As I thought, Brody comes running, wondering what the noise was. He sees me, pure anger in my eyes, and takes a startled step back.

“Skye, what…” He trails off as I stalk up to him, shoving his chest hard.

“Why the hell would you let Chase go to the Company?” I yell at him, shoving his chest again. “Are you crazy? Do you know what they did to me there, Brody? Do you?” I glare at him, fear and anger all over me.

“They isolated me in a room, wrists bound. When they finally came to find me, they made me sit in a chair, putting images in my head of everybody I love dying. They made me into a killer, Brody.” I take a shaky breath, letting angry tears run down my face.

“I had no idea.” Brody says quietly, and I barely register that Logan is standing a little bit down the hall, watching us silently.

“No, you didn’t have any idea! But you still let Chase go the Company, letting him think he can save me. One man against the Company.” I choke on my words, taking another shaky breath.

“You’re underestimating him.” Brody says quietly. My head snaps up, and I glare at Brody.

“You’re underestimating me.” I snap, turning on him, and notice that Logan has disappeared. I turn back to Brody.

“You don’t…you don’t know they’ll do to him, Brody.” I say, tears falling quicker now. I’m like Niagara Falls, I swear.

I go to shove him again in a fit of anger but Brody catches my hands, lowering them to my sides. My head falls against his chest and I sob, crying for every bad thing that’s ever happened.

Without realizing it, Brody steers me back to room, tucking me into bed. I stop crying, only shaking now.

“I’m sorry, Skye.” Brody says, voice quiet. I blink wearily.

“He’s coming back.” I say, no doubt in my voice, having to believe it. Brody nods.

“I know.”

And with that, I close my eyes, finally getting some rest. Putting to rest the thoughts in my head.

Brody waits until I fall asleep, making sure I’m okay, before he leaves.

I, in all my symptom full glory, need a plan. I really, really need a plan.

Reviews

[Aimee]

Great chapter!

Agh, I'm really worried about Chase.
:/

Please continue. [:

[Rusty]

Way too short.....I wait catching myself holding my breath while I read your chapters, and that one was too short, but great. Can't wait to see what happens next.