Insomnia (19 page)

twenty-five

Bliss was hazy. It was my new home. I couldn’t remember much about my old home. Just that it was bad—it was pain. Bliss was calm. It was restful and perfect.

It seemed to go on for days, weeks, months. It went on until time didn’t matter. Time wasn’t really a part of Bliss. Time was separate and overrated.

Sometimes words drifted in and out. Most of them I tried to ignore. They brought flashes of pain and torment. They ruined Bliss. There were only two voices that I wanted, two that didn’t bring the torment. They brought memories of happiness, warm summers filled with laughter. Finn and Addie’s voices didn’t disturb the Bliss. They were good.

When I heard them, I wanted more. It was the only time I felt safe, the only time I inched closer to awareness and further from the Bliss. Eventually I got close enough that I understood them. Their words weren’t buzzing noises in the background. They were clear.

I didn’t know if I wanted to, but I was waking up.

“No, it was all true.” The bitterness and anger in Add-ie’s tone made me want to retreat back to the Bliss, but I couldn’t—I’d come too far. “You don’t know him—you’ve never known him.”

“Why are you saying these things?” Mia’s voice forced a dozen terrifying images through my head at once. I squeezed my eyes shut tighter, wishing I’d never come so close to the surface. “And why would I believe either of you anymore, after Finn lied to me—again—to get me down here? I can’t believe you’d let him tell me you were in an accident, Addie.”

“You’d be too stubborn to come otherwise,” Addie groan-
ed, and then continued. “And yes, Finn lied, but what Parker told you was the truth.”

“How could it possibly be true?” Mia’s voice sounded oddly pinched. This was hurting her.

“We don’t know. He doesn’t even know.” Finn didn’t sound much happier than his sister, but he was much calmer. “We’re not lying that Parker’s a good guy. He’d never hurt you—he’d never hurt anyone. He isn’t your stalker.”

More flashes of Dr. Freeburg slashed through my Bliss, and I retreated to a small corner of my mind, wanting it all to stop. This had been a mistake. All I wanted was for the Bliss to come back.

“Fine, okay. But it’s bizarre, you know.” Mia sounded resigned but wary. “Whoever is doing it obviously wants me to think it’s Parker. Why would someone do that?”

“What do you mean?” Addie must have moved, because she sounded much closer than before. In spite of the painful memories, something in her voice made me glad I’d come back.

“They came from [email protected]. Eight is his soccer number, right?”

A stubborn shadow of doubt hovered over a corner of my Bliss like an ominous cloud. I stabbed at it with my thoughts, willing it to go away and leave me in peace, but like any cloud, stabbing at it was pretty useless.

Finn’s breath came out in a gush. “Yeah, that’s his number, but not his e-mail address. He set his up a couple years ago, when his number was eighteen. It’s exactly the same, but with an eighteen instead of an eight. See? We told you it wasn’t him.”

The room fell silent for a moment before Addie finally spoke. “This is not a good thing, Finn.” Her tone was hushed, worried. “Who would want to make it look like it was Parker?”

“If I knew that, I’d know who was sending them,” Mia said, her voice trembling.

Then someone came in and ushered them out. From what the stranger said, she must’ve been a nurse. The giant, looming oak tree flashed through my mind, and I wondered for a moment how bad I was hurt.

I floated in and out for a while, bobbing back and forth between my own dreams and drug-induced nothingness. I tried to piece together why and how I was dreaming on my own again, but my mind didn’t seem capable of holding onto one stream of thought long enough to reach a conclusion.

The bed pushed on my body in ways that were unnatural. Everything hurt as the pain dragged me inexorably toward full awareness. But my brain seemed to be worse than anything else. I felt pretty sure someone had taken it out, jiggled it around, and shoved it back in upside down. When I opened my eyes, light and dark were reversed, like one of those weird picture-editing programs had been set loose in the hospital.

I blinked several times before my brain seemed to straight-
en it out. Something itched on my face, and I raised my hands to try to scratch it. My right hand followed instructions, but my left hand was pinned against the bed. I scratched at my cheek with my right hand, and found a clear plastic oxygen tube across my face. Pulling it away, I rolled my head to the side, trying to figure out why my left hand wouldn’t move.

There was a mess of wavy auburn hair and fingers tangled all around it. Both of Addie’s hands were wrapped tightly around mine, and her head rested on the bed beside them. She was asleep. I blinked, trying to make sure I was seeing things right.

My fingers felt sweaty as a memory of my hands not responding when I wanted to reach for my phone in the car flashed through my mind. I carefully flexed my fingers, making sure I could still move them. Her eyes opened with the movement. I hadn’t meant to wake her up, but the idea that I couldn’t control one of my hands again was disturbing.

Addie sat up and blinked at me for a moment before squeezing my fingers so tight they hurt. “You’re awake! Are you okay? You’ve been freaking all of us out for three days.”

I tried to speak, but my dry throat wouldn’t release the words until the third try. “I think so. What’s going on?”

“Finn and your mom are out in the hall. You had a pretty bad concussion and you were in a coma, but they weren’t sure when you might wake up. They kept talking about drilling a hole in your skull and stuff, but your mom wouldn’t let them unless they could guarantee it would help. Your blood pressure kept spiking up and the monitors were going off and everyone kept freaking out and—and—”

Somewhere in the middle of it all, Addie started crying—not like the blubbering kind, but tears fell down her cheeks. I wasn’t even sure she noticed. An ache deep in my chest throbbed with each teardrop. I felt responsible, and I didn’t know how to make it better.

“I’m sorry, Addie.”

Pathetic. The only thing I could think of to say was utt-
erly useless.

She squeezed my fingers for a minute before she suddenly seemed to realize what she was doing. Her cheeks got red and she peeked down at my hand, but didn’t let go … and I really didn’t want her to.

“How are you feeling?”

I stretched and felt pain twinge through every muscle. “Like I ran into a tree, I guess. That’s what happened, right?”

“Yeah. Did you fall asleep?”

A vivid flash of Darkness sneering at me from the middle of the road tore through my mind and I couldn’t help but flinch. “Um—yeah. I must have.”

In the quiet room, my mind swirled through one messed-up thought after another. It felt dangerous for Addie to be here. I remembered the feel of the paperweight in my hand. I was dangerous. I needed her to leave for a minute so I could focus on what happened.

“Addie, can you please get me some water or something? I’m so thirsty.”

“Sure. I’ll be right back. And I’ll tell your mom you’re awake.”

“Thanks. I really appreciate it.”

Everything that happened before the accident flooded through my mind. Dr. Freeburg. All the blood. Darkness. I’d never called 911. I wondered who’d found him. Did the police know I was at his house? Had they even found his body yet?

Panic slithered down my spine as I reached for the bed remote and pushed the button that raised it to a semi-sitting position. The change in elevation made my head swirl, and the images spun like a hurricane. The cuff on my arm tightened, and it was more painful than I thought possible. One of the machines next to the bed started beeping and my brain felt like it might explode.

A nurse came into the room followed by Mom, Finn, Addie, and a policeman. My brain tried to make sense of that—a policeman? Maybe Darkness had been right. They believed I killed Dr. Freeburg. My heart felt like it was
tearing a hole in my chest. Did I? Did I kill him? There was so much blood glistening on that paperweight. I could picture it in my hand. But I was asleep in my own bed when I held it. Nothing made sense.

There was a window to the hallway and I could see him there, watching me: Blind Skull. His dark eyes met mine, but I couldn’t read any emotion in them. They were like my dreamless void—empty. I wondered if I looked that way to other people.

The nurse moved so fast that everyone else looked like statues. My mom, my friends, the policeman, and the stranger in the hallway—they all stood frozen in place while my life floated away. Maybe Blind Skull wasn’t even real; maybe none of them were.

I glanced at the machine. A red number on one of the monitors was climbing: 138–142–150–154. I gasped, trying to force air through the fire in my chest and into my lungs, to stop the pain that engulfed me. The nurse pushed a button to lay the bed back and put the tube back against my nose.

“Take slow, deep breaths and try to stay with me, Parker.”

“Parker? Is he okay?” It was Mom’s voice, but I don’t think anyone answered her. Addie stood beside my mom with her head buried in Finn’s shoulder.

It felt like someone had placed a mallet inside my skull, and with every beep of the monitor, it pounded away. I moaned, reaching up with one hand to claw at it, to dig it out. The nurse said something about my blood pressure and heart rate, but I couldn’t focus enough to hear her. Someone tugged at the IV in my arm, and within a few seconds everything smoothed out.

Bliss embraced me again, and the beeps got quieter.
People talked around me, but I couldn’t understand what they said anymore. And I didn’t care.

Mom’s voice was always there. I’m pretty sure she didn’t leave the room again. It drifted along with me like a raft. Something I could climb into when I was ready to leave the river of emptiness that surrounded me.

When I opened my eyes again, it was dark outside. Mom sat beside my bed, her cold hand resting on top of mine. Everything smelled like medicine and bandages and all I could hear was someone snoring.

Finn and Addie’s dad, Mr. Patrick, was sleeping on the really uncomfortable-looking couch across the room. One of his legs was bent to fit at an awkward angle; the other hung off the end so far it nearly touched the floor.

Mom was watching the news on TV, but the sound was turned all the way down. I focused on the closed captioning running across the screen for a second but it made me dizzy. The tagline said “Black Friday” and they showed crowds of people shivering outside the Oakville Commons Mall.

Black Friday was today? I’d been unconscious through Thanksgiving? Not that we ever had much of a turkey day celebration, but it still sucked.

I glanced at Mom. In the flickering light of the television, the dark circles under her eyes mimicked mine.

“Mom?”

Her head whipped around and she whispered to me. “Parker?” She leaned over the bed, her eyes huge. “Do you know where you are, sweetie?”

“If it’s home, I don’t like the way you redecorated.” My voice came out as a wheeze and I tried to smile for her.

Mom laughed and squeezed my hand, but I could see an edge of panic in her eyes. “You didn’t do so well when you woke up earlier today. How do you feel now?”

“I’m fine, Mom.”
Terrified to sit up again after what happened last time, fairly sure I’m a murderer, and did I mention I’m going crazy? But, besides that, fine.
“Was there a policeman here before, or am I hallucinating?”

How messed up is it that I hoped she’d say I had a brain tumor and was seeing things? Who hopes for a brain tumor?

“Yes. Officer Evans left a couple of forms for you to fill out.”

I took several slow, deep breaths and pretended to find the Tide commercial on TV really interesting until my heart agreed to slow back down. “Do you know what he wants?”

“Nothing important. The tree you hit was on golf course property or something and he’s trying to get details for the accident report.” Mom shook her head and squeezed my hand. “I know it was an accident, Parker, but it was irresponsible of you to drive when you were that tired. You could’ve been hurt so much worse, or you could’ve hurt someone else.”

I swallowed. The words “you could’ve hurt someone else” echoed in my mind, accompanied by images of my hands covered in blood. I nodded. I couldn’t think about that now, not with people here. Maybe not ever.

“I also, um … ” Mom cleared her throat and looked down. “I wanted to say that I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” I turned to face her.

She scooted her chair closer and whispered, “I’m so sorry about our big fight, and I’m so sorry I accused you of taking drugs. When I thought you might not … when I thought of all the things I said … ” Her shoulders trembled and she wrapped her arms around me.

“It’s okay, Mom.” I hugged her and patted her shoulder, wishing the worst thing I’d done was drugs. “You believe me now?”

“Yes.” Her voice was muffled. “They tested your blood after the accident. I guess it’s protocol or something. You were clean, just like you’ve said. I’m so sorry.”

My gut tightened and twisted as she cried. “It’s all right, Mom.” I tried to shrug and glanced at the figure snoring on the couch, ready to change the subject. “Why is Mr. Patrick here?”

Mom pulled back, wiping her tears with a smile. “Finn and Addie wouldn’t leave. He wanted them to get out of the hospital for a while. He promised to watch over you himself while they went to a movie. You’re lucky to have such great friends.”

“I know.”