Unchanged Read online

  "My ankle," I choked out once I had taken a few deep breaths to calm myself. "I think I must have sprained it."

  "Don't worry," Ahaziel said. "I'll take you somewhere you can rest."

  Before I could protest that there wasn't really any shelter for miles, he gathered me in his arms and started walking purposefully through the forest.

  "What are you doing?" I demanded. I struggled only a little, afraid he might drop me and I would land on my ankle. "You should have just left me there! We don't even know each other!"

  He didn't respond, just kept walking. Promising myself I would flee once we got wherever we were going, I chose to remain silent. I kept my head tucked in, afraid of stray branches whacking it, but he was surefooted and seemed to know a clear path to his destination.

  It didn't take long to reach the edge of the forest. When I raised my head I saw we had moved even further north. We emerged out of the trees onto a large, overgrown plot of land. A house stood there, old and neglected. The orange-red roof was horribly dull and the white paint on the siding peeled in large curls, revealing rotting gray boards beneath. The porch sagged and there were gaps in the railing. Parts of the picket fence had collapsed on the grass. The whole property looked so desolate, so forgotten.

  To the west, on the cliff overlooking the ocean, stood a lighthouse. It was then I knew where we had come. This was Havelock Point. A lightkeeper and his family had once lived in the house and he'd tended the lighthouse each night. But the lighthouse hadn't been used for years and the house had been abandoned just as long. I tried to recall any other information I might have heard about the place, but nothing came to mind.

  "Why did you bring me here?" I asked.

  "It was the closest shelter," he said as he stepped onto the creaking porch, out of the rain. I cringed, hoping our weight wouldn't bust a hole in the wood, but he managed to open the door while still carrying me and soon we were safely inside.

  The foyer was a sizable space, but the dark walls made it seem much smaller. With only two small windows coated heavily in salt, I doubted it ever saw much light even on a sunny day. We moved ahead into the living room, which had light-colored walls and many windows. Through a doorway to the left I glimpsed the kitchen, the faded yellow walls dark with dirt, the appliances so ancient and rusty they surely didn't work any longer. In one corner I saw a wooden table with matching chairs, all of which seemed as if they might shudder to the floor at any second.

  "How did you know about this place?" I asked as Ahaziel set me gently on the surprisingly sound floorboards. The abandoned house wasn't the nicest of shelters, and it gave me the creeps a little. It was the perfect place to murder me and hide my body.

  "It's been here a long time," he answered.

  He ducked his head and concentrated on my ankle. He folded up the hem of my jeans and removed my shoe. I watched his long, brown fingers move lightly across my winter-white skin, checking for bruises and swelling. Finding none, he began to massage the ankle lightly, soothing away the pain. I bit my lip, my body tense. No guy had ever touched me so gently, with such strange intimacy. Especially not one I had just met.

  "Um, thanks," I mumbled self-consciously. "It feels much better."

  He looked up abruptly and I noticed how very rigid he looked, how intense his gaze had become. I recoiled slightly, feeling all of a sudden that he hated me. Lowering my eyes, I freed my wet hair from its ponytail and finger-combed the dark gold ridges to cover the left side of my face.

  "Why do you do that?" Ahaziel asked.

  "What?"

  His silence said You know what. I didn't look at him, too embarrassed to respond, and absently let one hand wander beneath the hair to my birthmark. What did Ahaziel think when he looked at me?

  I glanced up, wondering if he still expected an answer. The look in his eyes had softened, but still there was something peculiar about the expression in them. It almost seemed as if he knew me, or knew something secret about me, something even I didn't know. But how could he? We had only just met.

  Looking around, I tried to judge how long it would take me to run to the front door. Surely I could make it before he caught me. But what about my ankle? And could I make it through the forest on my own? I knew the way to town, but I wasn't accustomed to fleeing potential captors through the woods.

  I cleared my throat. "How long do you think we'll have to wait here?"

  "That depends on how soon you feel comfortable walking."

  I flexed my ankle and moved it around. It did feel much better, but I still wasn't sure it was strong enough to bear me if I had to run.

  "Maybe I should wait a little longer," I suggested tentatively, wondering if I was making the right decision.

  Ahaziel nodded. "I'll wait with you."

  A curious warmth flooded my body. What if we got stuck here all night for some reason? What if it got too cold to sit apart? I imagined the two of us squeezing close together for warmth, our bodies bathed in candlelight, our conversation intimate and hushed . . .

  I realized Ahaziel was studying me unwaveringly and my cheeks flushed. I grabbed my shoe and tugged it on, trying not to let him see my shaking hands. It almost seemed as if he knew every thought passing through my mind, or at least he somehow looked like he knew. If he could read my thoughts, I mused, he'd know I was picturing him kissing me. Maybe he would indulge me, just so I'd know if it was as good as I imagined.

  I could have smacked myself. I didn't even know him and had no reason to believe he found me attractive. Not that it mattered. One minute I was daydreaming intimate things about him, the next I was reminding myself he might want to kill me. I had to get my head on straight. Maybe I'd hit it when I fell and now my thoughts were muddled and not entirely sane.

  He gestured at the backpack, which I kept on so I could be prepared to leave in case he started exhibiting suspicious behavior. "You were drawing earlier," he stated.

  "Yeah," I said sheepishly. "It's what I like to do."

  I felt relieved when he didn't ask to see what I had been drawing. I would have shown him if he had, but I really preferred to keep my drawings private. I was very self-conscious about them, like I was about everything else. I had a hard time completing assignments in art class. That was one reason I had gone to the forest, so no one would ask questions or offer suggestions about my work.

  Then Ahaziel had shown up.

  "Do you come here a lot?" I asked, gesturing around at the house. I was feeling more and more uneasy as the minutes passed. I really didn't like this place and it had nothing to do with the guy who'd brought me here.

  He shrugged. "Not often."

  Apparently he didn't like volunteering information about himself. Every question I'd asked had been met with a short answer. He hadn't asked anything of me. Was I so uninteresting? It was true I had basically no friends, but I'd never thought I was devoid of personality or anything like that. Surely I had enough character that even someone as gorgeous as Ahaziel would find me somewhat intriguing.

  I had to ask myself why I cared. I shouldn't have. But it was there, a strange need for approval. Could I have developed sympathy for my captor so quickly? I wasn't even sure he was holding me captive. I felt an odd connection to him nonetheless.

  "I was supposed to be at school today," I said, grasping for conversation. "I don't guess I'll go back."

  Maybe, I mused as the wordlessness between us stretched on, he was one of those people who didn't speak unless he had something to say. Maybe he preferred silence and was annoyed with my babbling.

  Or maybe he wasn't talking about himself because he really was a psycho.

  "It's my birthday," I tried again.

  He nodded, as if this were no surprise to him.

  "I'm eighteen." The instant the words left my mouth I wondered why I'd said them. I sounded like I was trying to tempt him with my age. Or else bragging about it. Neither one was good. "Do you know what time it is?" I asked.

  "Not yet midday."

&n
bsp; I sighed and lifted myself to my feet. "I should probably go," I said, hoping he wouldn't try to stop me. "It will take me a while to walk home, especially in this rain."

  "I will walk with you to the edge of the forest."

  "Thanks," I breathed with relief. He was letting me go. I wouldn't end up on the evening news after all.

  I felt more comfortable once we had left the property and entered the forest. We had no umbrellas and even with the branches of trees blocking some of the rain, our hair and clothes were drenched again in minutes. Soaked to the skin Ahaziel looked no less gorgeous, like some kind of tribal warrior or something. I, on the other hand, probably looked like a pale, drowned rat. I kept my head down and a firm grip on my aching arm. My ankle didn't bother me at all.

  We didn't talk much on the walk back, which was just as well because it was all I could do to maintain my footing on the slick forest floor. Ahaziel had no such trouble; not once did I see him slip, even a little. He swung his arms casually, as if he were out for a pleasant stroll, and never threw them out for balance like I did. Graceful, I thought. Not only was he beautiful but agile as well.

  Not a psycho, I told myself, desperate for it to be true.

  When we came to the edge of the forest, Victoria even drearier than usual beyond it, we stopped. I turned to Ahaziel, chewing on my lower lip as I tried to think of something clever to say, something that would have him begging for my phone number and asking desperately when he could see me again. Nothing came to mind.

  "Thanks for helping me," I said. "My ankle doesn't even hurt anymore."

  "You are welcome."

  That was it, then. Oddly disappointed, I turned to walk away but stopped, surprised, when Ahaziel took my arm gently. I felt the pressure of his fingers through my sweater. I stared at him, caught in fascination. He stared back, something uncertain in his eyes, as if he were weighing the pros and cons of his next words.

  "I want to see you again," he finally said.

  Excitement and giddiness welled in me. I suppressed them with some effort and managed a nonchalant, "All right. When?"

  "Tomorrow."

  "Where?"

  "The house."

  I shook my head dubiously. "I didn't like it there," I admitted. "But you could come to my house after school." I didn't think it would be wise to skip school two days in a row, even for me.

  "The beach," he said, ignoring my suggestion. "There are some caves; do you know them?"

  "Yes."

  He let go of my arm and stepped back. He said nothing else. Pausing only a moment, I turned abruptly and ran until I stood beneath the overhang of a roof. When I looked back through the misty rain, Ahaziel had disappeared into the forest shadows.

  ~

  In the middle of the night I awoke with a start. My arms and legs flailed about, searching frantically for the covers so I could wrap them around myself. I had the sense of something horrifying. Something unspeakable. But no images came to mind. Nothing did, but dread.

  I curled up on my side, shaking with some unnamable fear until my eyes closed once more.

  ~

  Nothing much ever happened in the last week of school before winter break. Teachers, immersed in their holiday plans, began showing us movies or handing out busywork packets that didn't really count for anything. I spent a lot of time with my chin propped up in one hand, staring out the window and trying not to fall asleep, or pretending to take notes with academic vigor so the teachers wouldn't call on me to answer a question I didn't know the answer to.

  Drawing I was my only class where the teacher, Miss Bell, continued to instruct with zeal. It was my favorite class, which might have struck Miss Bell as somewhat strange since I never seemed to do any work. Today, Thursday, we were supposed to hand in our self-portraits, which I'd barely even started. I hated the assignment, naturally, and was trying to avoid it. I pretended I had no idea what was going on when the other students handed in theirs. I spent class half-heartedly working on the still life in the center of the room, slumped in my chair.

  At the end of the period Miss Bell beckoned me aside, waiting to speak until the room had emptied. "I didn't receive your self-portrait, Lilly."

  "Oh. Well, I haven't finished it."

  "It was due today."

  I shrugged. "I forgot."

  Miss Bell sighed and shifted her weight. "I'll give you another day to finish it. I want it tomorrow for the critique, no exceptions. Otherwise you'll fail the assignment."

  "Fine."

  I rolled my eyes as I left the classroom and was in bad spirits when I walked into English, my last class before lunch. We were reading aloud from a short story by Kate Chopin. My hair hung down, isolating me from my classmates. Silly to think a hair curtain would shield me from their eyes since they saw me every day and knew what I looked like. But I felt better doing it.

  The girl in front of me had just started her paragraph. My eyes frantically raked the typed words of the story on my desk. For a moment I began to panic, imagining the Mrs. Crain berating me in front of the whole class and everyone laughing, but then I found my place. I breathed a sigh of relief and put my finger to the paper to follow along.

  I read my paragraph quickly and blanked out as soon as I'd finished, pushing thoughts of the hated drawing assignment and a possible fail from my mind. The voices of the others students reading sounded like wordless humming at the edge of my consciousness.

  Near the end of class we began the usual free writing in our journals. I barely had to revive myself to reach for my journal and pen. I stared at the blank page in front of me, feeling strange. One hand rose, fingers skimming my collarbone, and then floated away so my hand hovered over my chest, over my heart. I closed my fingers around a clutch of shirt. I felt . . . strange, yes. I felt . . . Suddenly my breathing seemed weird. My eyes did not want to blink.

  Something is coming, I thought. Or I don't know.

  Something is here.

  Someone . . .

  I shook my head to chase these odd thoughts away and began chewing on the end of my pen. I wrote some words really fast, just so I'd have something to show Mrs. Crain, then gaped at the entry in disbelief. My name is Lilly. Something is wrong with me. Last night I had a nightmare that scared the living crap out of me. But I can't even remember it. Still, I think it must have something to do with my death.

  What had I been thinking? Mrs. Crain could not read this. My pen dug angrily into the paper as I scribbled over the words until they were illegible. There. Now I could start over. I didn't want my teacher thinking I was trying to reach out to her through my writing or anything. I couldn't risk her recommending me to the guidance counselor, after all. Though she might do that anyway after seeing the pulpy mess I'd made of the notebook paper.

  The bell rang at last and even though I had nothing to show for free writing, I tossed my journal onto Mrs. Crain's desk like everyone else and made for the cafeteria. It was too cold for most people to eat on the concrete benches outside in the quad, the way they did in warm weather, and so in winter the cafeteria became unpleasantly noisy and full of people I'd rather not have seen. I wouldn't have minded eating in the quiet winter air, but nobody seemed to share that sentiment and I preferred not to spend lunchtime alone.

  Chris, Brandt, Austin, and Chris's friend Joy, my usual lunch group, were already sitting at our table, just to the side of the doors. Joy was ambitious and hardworking and aimed to be the valedictorian. She only pretended to be my friend, and not very well. I often wondered what she had in common with Chris, who was soft and sweet and didn't care much about school, except for extracurricular activities.

  Joy popped open her soda and glared at me. She was a small girl with doughy, creamy skin spotted with a handful of flat moles. Her chin-length hair was pale red and even though she curled it each morning, it always fell flat by the end of school. "What happened to you yesterday, Lilly?" she asked, probably scandalized I had missed an entire day of school.

  I had kn
own one of them would ask me that question sooner or later. "I didn't feel well, so I went home early," I replied easily, opening a bag of chips.

  "Are you okay now?" Chris asked, real concern showing on her rosy-cheeked face.

  "I'm fine." I smiled at her, then met Austin's hazel eyes across the table. I glanced quickly down at my chips, feeling somewhat guilty for my misgivings about attending the dance with him.

  He probably thinks I'm such a freak, I thought.

  "You're still going to the Winter Ball tomorrow night, aren't you?" Chris demanded, excitement twinkling in her deep brown eyes. "I mean, we all are, right?"

  "Oh, yeah. Sure." I caught Austin's eye again and this time managed a smile, which he returned. Then he seemed to get very interested in his pizza.

  "My fifth period student council class has been planning it for weeks," Joy said importantly. "And we have to keep approving those stupid banners the cheerleaders are making to advertise it."

  "Stupid cheerleaders," Brandt contributed.

  "I have the cutest dress," Chris announced to anyone who would listen. "It's pale gold, with a halter strap . . ."

  "You don't have to describe it to us," Joy said. "We're going to see it anyway."

  I thought about what I would wear to the dance, sifting mentally through my closet for something suitable, since I didn't have money for a new outfit and doubted my mother did either. It would be a cold night, of course. I eyed the pale sky beyond the large cafeteria window, as if confirming it was winter after all. Usually I didn't pay much attention to my clothes, but I would make an effort for the dance. It would be dark and no one would really notice my face. The idea comforted me.

  "Don't you think so, Lilly?" Chris asked.

  "What?" I swung my head in her direction.

  She regarded me with a patient smile, her cheeks blush-pink. "Don't you think we should all get ready at your house tomorrow night? You, me, and Joy? Austin can meet us there and drive us."