Chapter 7: Kyle and Katrina's Voices
"Pss, Jemma." A tiny voices whispers into my ear.
I snap my eyes open and am immediately engulfed by darkness. A small shadowy figure hovers above my bed and it sends chills racing down my spine.
"W-Who are you?" I whisper in fear. If I knew I was going to die today I would have re-thought A LOT of my life.
"It's me Katrina, we gotta be really quiet because we're not supposed to be awake right now." She hushes at me.
"Well you're the one who woke me up," I mutter angrily as I lift myself out of bed.
I glance over at Artisan who is still snoring like a truck on the freeway, which makes no sense at all but you know what I mean.
"I'll just be a sec," I reply as I pull my lazy body out of my rock of a bed. I wonder why she's recruiting me on a mission at like three am in the morning.
Katrina watches me quietly as I pull up my hair and zip up my favorite sweater to my chin since it's so cold in this place.
"You done yet?" She whispers.
"Uh, yeah. So, um, what exactly is going on right now?" I ask suspiciously as I follow her carefully out of the room.
"Um, well, first off Kyle has no idea that I'm bringing you to our secret hideout. He thinks I'm raiding the caf for snacks, but we really need to talk." She says softly.
"About what exactly?" I ask as I glance cautiously behind me in the dark hall.
"Our voices," She says so easily.
My heart stops. Whoa, what?
"Your voices? W-What?" I shake suddenly feeling very jittery.
"I'll explain when we get there, just be quiet and follow me." She instructs.
I shut my mouth and let her lead me to she and Kyle's apparent "secret hideout". We walk down the large flight of stairs and make our way down another creepy hallway. Then we come across a small bunker that is placed up on the ceiling of the hallway.
"Uh, how has no one discovered this?" I ask, feeling completely dumbfounded. The thing is so blatantly obvious even a blind person could spot it out.
"No one comes here at night that we know of, it's just some empty attic." Katrina shrugs as she pulls at the dangling rope that is attached to the door. A long rope ladder drapes down as the door creaks open.
"C'mon," She whispers, making her way up quickly.
I hear her talking to Kyle as I make my slow, merry way up. I'm gasping for air as I flop my body onto the landing. Katrina quickly pulls up the door behind me.
"What the fuck is she doing here?" Kyle hisses angrily.
I sit up, still trying to catch my breath. Wow, I am so damn unfit.
"W-We need to talk Kyle," Katrina states, crossing her arms in clear determination.
By the look on his face, you can clearly tell what Kyle now knows what we have to talk about; and he also doesn't look like he likes it.
"No, fuck no Katrina." He seethes angrily, turning away from us.
Katrina pinches me in the arm. "Ow," I mutter.
"Talk to him," She mouths.
I groan but still push my way towards him. "Hey," I slap him in the shoulder. "Do you think you're the only one here dealing with your dumb ass condition? I have voices too you know, I know this may sound weird but mine is named Chance Lexar."
Kyle tenses up but doesn't reply.
"Y-Your voice has a name?" Katrina squeaks from behind me.
I twist my body to look back at her. "Yeah; does yours?"
"No. It doesn't. We're done talking about this shit." Kyle speaks up angrily.
I give him a sharp glare. What the hell is his problem? Doesn't he want help? A connection at least?
"Yes it does, o-our voices are related. Mine is named Andrea Lexar and Kyle's is named Andrew Lexar. T-They have the same last name as yours," Katrina says nervously.
"That's not a coincidence," I think to myself. But how can that even be possible? We all have voices, they all have names, and coincidentally they all have the same last name. It's mind boggling actually.
"Yeah so what are you gonna do about it Jemma? They're fucking voices, we can't cast a spell on them to make them disappear." He mutters back in annoyance.
"Well if they are somehow connected I'm sure we can find their source." I reply.
"OK, so tell me how we're going to do that; if you haven't noticed, we're locked up in an asylum right now. Whatever you're thinking about is never going to happen." He fiddles with a broken toy horse as he talks like a douche.
"Not with that attitude it won't, what the hell is your problem anyway? Aren't you happy that you found someone that is like you?" I shoot back furiously.
"I don't care." He says icily, making eye contact with me. His dark blue eyes are dead and cold.
"If you didn't care you wouldn't have saved me back there at breakfast." I state.
"OK, so you wanted to stick around with the psychopath?"
"Yeah, I didn't fucking think so"
"OK, you know what, maybe you don't want to find out all of this shit about our voices, but maybe your sister does! Did you ever think about that? Or is it always gonna be about you, you, you?" I snap.
"You don't know me," He hisses.
"Trust me, I would never want to get to know a conceded, self centered, douche bag like you!"
"And you think you're any better? You're a bitch!"
"What? I'm a bitch? I'm trying to help you for god's sake, but clearly you don't want my help because you're scared, well guess what Kyle, we're all fucking scared! Sooner or later you're going to have to get over yourself and face your fears, once you face your demons there's nothing you can't do!" I press.
"Don't talk to me like you know what's good for me." He clenches his fists.
"I never said I knew what was good for you,"
"Then shut the fuck up! Y-You don't know what I've been through; you don't know what we've been through! Do you think it's easy to live a life of happiness after you've seen your own father kill your mother and then try and put the gun on you? Do you know? And then you have to kill your own father just to ensure your own damn safety only to end up sitting on your ass in a fucking ward just for trying to save you and your sister's life. You don't know Jemma!" His voice cracks and he trails off.
I keep my mouth shut because I don't know what to say back to that. Damn.
"Kyle, please." Katrina whispers.
He stands up abruptly and heads for the opening of the attic. "I can't do this right now."
"Kyle, wait, I'm sorry." I shoot up and fly over to him, grabbing his shirt sleeve. "I-I'm sorry, OK?" I bite my lip to keep myself from breaking down and crying because I feel so bad.
His eyes linger on me for a moment. I meet them slowly. "You can trust me OK? I-If your sister trusts me, you can trust me too." I say softly.
He's still tense, so I do the only thing I know that can make a person feel better; I hug him. It's awkward at first, but eventually he loosens up and drapes his arms around my waste. He's trembling softly and I can tell that he's crying.
"Anyone would have let me leave, left me alone, but not you." He whispers shakily into my shoulder. "Not you Jemma Roe,"
I close my eyes. No, not me.