The boy grinned at her, flashing his wicked pair of sharpened canines--something Misty had originally been charmed by that now became yet another strange and terrifying trait of the orange-haired stranger.
“What did I tell you, Jamie?” He drawled, holding up the cup of ginger ale. “I can do it. How would you like me to replace some different memories for you? I can take the bad and make them happy, I could make your relationship with your parents better, I could even give you a brand new personality, if you desired,” He rolled the sleeves of his hoodie up and extended his long, pale fingers towards her. “All you have to do is shake my hand.”
Misty’s heart was thumping loudly in her chest, and her shoulder tingled with pain. Her whole world was being turned upside down and inside out, and they hadn’t even made it halfway across the country yet. She felt confused and hurt and unbelievably scared.
Only one thing was keeping her grounded, a constant that she knew she would always keep with her, no matter how many mind tricks he played on her.
There was no way in hell that she was about to shake this monster’s hand.
“My name,” She said cooly, “Is Misty.”
She knocked his hand away from her and looked away. She wouldn’t be able to escape from him until the plane ride was over, and according to the little blue watch on her left wrist, she still had a few hours to go. Misty resolved to simply ignore him for the rest of her life, she wouldn’t speak a word the entire trip, not even to a flight attendant. She would make sure she kept her pale lips sealed tight until she reached the safety of her friend’s apartment.
“Misty,”
His voice felt like frost against her skin.
“I could force you to kill someone right now. I could put it into your head that it is your only mission in life to murder, say…” He took a glance around the plane’s seats while Misty slowly felt her resolve melting. “Oh, that baby girl over there looks promising,”
No, not a baby. Not that baby, with the older twin siblings and tired parents. The thin glass wall she had created for herself began cracking apart.
“Such pretty brown eyes, I would hate for some sort of accident to happen. What if someone were to reach over and yank her out of her mother’s arms? What if someone--”
“Stop!” Misty cried, grabbing the sleeve of his cottony blue jacket, which was freezing cold to the touch. “Please, stop!”
It hit her then that the glass wall she thought would protect her was actually nothing at all, he was too powerful to fight. She hadn’t felt so insignificant and helpless like this since she was living with her boyfriend.
The boy raised one orange eyebrow at her.
“Oh? Has someone changed their mind?”
Misty hated herself, she hated the boy, she hated that he could manipulate her so easily, she hated that everything in her life was falling apart, she hated that she had escaped from one abusive relationship only to find herself in the middle of something far worse, she hated that her ex boyfriend’s place sounded like a dream right now.
She hated that she was sticking her exponentially smaller hand out towards his, she hated that she was glaring into his frosty white eyes while he smirked, she hated how his hand enveloped hers almost entirely, somehow signifying how small and helpless she was to him.
“Why are you so concerned with helping me anyways?” She spat, hating the sound of her own goddamn voice, hating the wicked little smile he cracked at her in response. She hated the same sick feeling of recognition she felt when she first saw him, as if she knew him from somewhere.
“Can a guy help someone in need without having a reason to do so?” He asked in a voice that Misty hated.
“Yes,” She replied, “But he has to have a reason if he’s willing to kill for it.”
The boy chuckled. Of course he thought the suffering of others was funny.
Misty was tired of hating things.
“You got me there,” He replied. “I’ll tell you someday. Maybe you aren’t the person I’m looking for. Then I’ll just change your memory however you want me to and leave your life forever.”
This was unexpected.
“Are you meaning to say…”
“Yes,” The boy nodded. “You could escape me, if you aren’t the person I’m looking for.”
Misty’s heart leaped into her throat. The glass shards of her fort came whizzing back together, stronger than stone.
“I can assure you I’m not that person! Nothing interesting has ever happened to me! I can’t help you, I promise. Will you please let me go?” She cried. This was it! He could leave and she would go to her friend’s house and her whole life would be back on track. She told herself that the first thing she would do when she got to the apartment was call her parents and tell them that she was coming home. Misty felt an undeniable need to express her gratitude towards them.
You were right, she’d say. You were right about him, and I was wrong, and I love you so, so much. It didn’t matter that the events that had gone down today were completely unexplainable. She wouldn’t question it, or call the police, or even think about it ever again. Sometimes things happen, it would just become some spooky story she could post online and then forget about forever. Maybe, if given enough time, she would be able to convince herself it never actually happened.
The boy regarded her with thoughtful contemplation. His eyes grazed across her body, from her head to her toes. Misty held her breath, waiting anxiously for his response.
Finally he shrugged.
“Okay, maybe you’re right. I’ll let you go.” He said nonchalantly.
“Wait what?”
“I’ll let you go. Scout’s honor.” He raised three fingers in a salute. Then he lowered his hand and extended it towards Misty once more, an easygoing smile on his face. “It’s a deal.”
Misty enthusiastically shook his hand. A voice in the back of her head told her that it was a bad idea to be doing this. How could someone so persistent to get her compliance suddenly become entirely disinterested? Misty batted the little voice away until she could barely hear it.
“A deal,” She repeated softly to herself, pressing her back against her uncomfortable airplane chair and smiling contently.
The boy was also smiling, but for a different reason.
Twice. He thought. I got her to shake my hand twice!
Both passengers spoke not a word to each other for the duration of the ride, each of them feeling completely confident and rather excited for the future ahead of them.
Misty allowed the boy to help her get her bag down from the overhead compartment, but after that she sped away down the aisle as fast as she could in the thick traffic of people attempting to do the same. She never once looked back at the fiery orange hair and piercing white eyes that had captivated her mind in ways she never could’ve imagined.
Once off the plane she rolled down the hallways to the baggage claim. People in crisp black suits and muted ties marched past her, their eyes trained on their watches or phones or just the ground, as if someone had smacked them over the head and broken something that allowed them to lift their eyes up. A short teenaged girl with a cute pixie-cut was fidgeting with the ends of her gigantic sweater and biting her lip nervously. She was muttering methodically to herself, “Go to baggage claim, wait for Uncle Chris, I wish dad was here…”
It dawned on Misty suddenly, as she was watching the endless stream of boxy suitcases swirl around the baggage claim like pudding, that He could be here too. What if the boy was standing just behind her now, watching and waiting for his chance to strike her? Misty whirled around as a hot jolt of fear struck her like lightning. She scanned the crowd feverishly, but he was nowhere to be seen.
Misty grabbed her suitcase the moment it rolled into her view. The surge of pain in her shoulder was almost entirely ignored in her dizzy hastiness to get out of there.
The escalators couldn’t seem to move fast enough. They crawled along to the bottom of the airport at the speed of a drugged snail. At last Misty dragged her suitcases out the sliding glass doors and into the brisk fog of San Francisco. A golden yellow taxi was waiting for her like a knight in shining armor.
Misty hauled her suitcase into the trunk then slid into the back seat. She shook her paranoia off her like a cloak as the door slammed closed with shuddering finality.
A woman with fake red hair and a neon green headband spun around from the front seat. Her large golden hoop earrings clattered and jangled with each movement of her bright red lips.
“Where to sweetheart?” She asked. Misty opened her mouth to answer, but just as she did, a cold sensation slipped into her throat. It felt like someone was choking her with snow. Her fingers went numb as the cold slipped into her body. Her entire existence ached and her eyes went white with fog that seemed to slip in through the cab’s doors and into her vision.
Misty’s lips moved without her permission while she attempted to scream for help.
“777 Beach Street please.” She said in a voice that was not hers. Her frozen lips twisted into a sly little smirk.
“That’s some voice you got there,” The taxi lady replied. It’s not mine!! Misty tried to say.
Mmmh, I quite like this little body of yours, a boy’s voice drawled inside her head.
We had a deal! Misty screamed silently.
Oh, dear. Sweetheart, if there’s one thing you need to know about demons, it’s this.
Misty couldn’t even cry.
We lie.
ns 15.158.61.8da2
