Page 20 of Unclaimed Bonds
I proceed forward, furrowing my brow in confusion. How is this happening? I must miscalculate my steps because I collide with a person. Shit! I try to speak, to instinctively apologize, but air gushes from the hole in my throat. Before I can move, hands grab my chin, and with a firm grip, they shift my head from side to side.
“What you must have been through to get here,” the woman says aloud because this time I can hear her and feel her soft breath on my face. “Now, take a deep breath and visualize your surroundings with your mind, as you did before.”
Visualize my surroundings with my mind?
“Be quick about it. There isn’t much time.”
I don’t know how I did it in the first place. Why is this woman so convinced that I can?
“Because you can. Now, stop overthinking and just do it.”
Do what? Maybe I escaped from a nuthouse. Or I escapedintoa nuthouse. Or maybe… Whack! A blunt object hits my right arm and then my left. My leg is struck next. Irritated, I take a deep breath, and the room blooms into sight with a little old lady holding a cane. She extends her arm to the side, attempting to hit me again. But this time, I snatch the cane from her.
“About damn time. Now, sit and have some tea.”
Frowning at the old woman, I lower myself into the chair she indicates. She returns to the head of the table and scoots her chair a little forward. She’s not much taller than I am, with all-white curly hair, and she wears an aquamarine tracksuit. I rest her cane against the table, so she can reach it when she’s ready to stand again. On second thought, I move it to my other side so she can’t hit me with it.
You don’t miss much, now do you? She laughs.
Miss much?
She doesn’t answer me—well, because her mouth doesn’t move—and her voice reaches inside my head as she sips her tea.Not only are you a wiseass, but you’re also quite observant. You catch onto things quickly, when you don’t overthink so much.
I glance down at the cup of tea in front of me. I can’t drink it, recalling my choking episode at the faucet last night.
Try again. You might be surprised.
How is she inside my head? I obviously can’t talk with this stupid hole in my throat, and yet she’s holding a conversation with me inside my head. I rub my forehead. I must be a ghost or maybe a zombie. I’m a walking dead carcass. That makes sense. I pat myself down to assess my body, and I feel a pinch on my thigh. Ouch! Seriously!
Not a zombie, after all. Another laugh emits from the old lady in my head.And… I am not inside of your head. You are inside mine. Drink your tea.
Rubbing at my thigh, I grumble and grimace at the cup again. I gingerly lift it as if it’s full of poison and raise an inquisitive eyebrow. This won’t be pretty. As I bring the teacup to my lips, I think,can’t say I didn’t warn you.
I take a small sip and wait for the choking and coughing to start, but nothing happens. I pull the cloth from my sweatshirt pocket and wipe at the hole. No warm liquid pours out. The hole is still there. I can hear myself breathing. But it’s not as big as it felt earlier. I wipe my hand down my pants leg and try another sip. No coughing, no choking.
I don’t like that you refer to me as an old lady.
I glance over at her.Sorry. I didn’t think you could hear my thoughts.
My name is Agnus, or you can call me Aggie. You’re on my territory.
I’m on her territory. I have to think about that for a minute, trying to remember exactly how did I get here? I don’t even know where I am or where I came from. I try to think harder. I don’t know where I live. I can’t retrieve memories from my life before waking up as some kind of science experiment.
My hands begin to tremble. The china rattles, so I rest the teacup on the table.
Agnus reaches over to touch my hand.Do you at least know your name?
Staring at the tinted liquid, I focus on my name, but nothing seems familiar. I don’t know who I am.
Finish your tea. It might come back to you. She pats my hand.
I’m surprised that no more choking episodes occur, and tea doesn’t drip from the hole. Physically, it’s impossible. But so was running away from a large pack of wolves last night.
Agnus collects my cup, peering into it and slowly moving it around.Interesting, she mumbles.
Turning my head to look at her, my vision blurs and refocuses like a camera. Her brows crease, as if she’s solving a puzzle. She hums quietly and jots notes in a notebook next to her. What is she doing?
I’m reading your tea leaves, she answers. Studying whatever she sees in the remnants of my tea, she sits silent for a long time, writing more notes. Finally, she rests her pen down and closes her notebook. Giving my hand a reassuring squeeze, she claims,All will be well, my dear. Now, the bathroom is down the hall. Wash up, and we will take a walk when you’re all done. She glances at my feet and adds,No shoes? You ran all the way here with no shoes?
