“Then I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do, honey.” The dispatcher’s voice grew less formal and more empathetic. “Do you have parental supervision from another adult or do I need to send a unit over?”
“Oh...No, um, I’m a grown-up.” I winced at the word choice. It sounded like something a little kid would say. “I mean, I’m eighteen.” Awkwardly, I added, “Thanks, uh...I gotta go.”
I hung up as she started to say something else.
That was a dead end.
My fingers pushed the speed dial for Dad next without thinking. He’d know what to do.
“Brynn?” His normally cheerful voice sounded distant. “How come you’re calling me at work? My shift doesn’t end for another fifteen minutes. What’s wrong?”
Once again, I opened my mouth to say, “They took Mom!” but I choked before saying, “I just called the cops!” instead.
“What?” His voice sounded closer now, worried.
I tried to take a deep breath and breathe through the panic. What had I said on the phone that had finally worked?
“Mom is gone!” I croaked, sucking in a deep breath. “Dad, she was—” I felt my throat close up and stopped myself.
“What do you mean?” Dad asked.
But I couldn’t explain without that increasingly familiar sensation of word vomit rising up, so in the end, I had to settle for a vague, “Something’s wrong!”
“She probably just went to the grocery store.” Dad’s tone had shifted to slightly annoyed. “Brynn, I’ve gotta get back to work. My shift isn’t over yet.”
He wasn’t taking me seriously. I couldn’t blame him.
“Dad, I saw her leave, and...” I swiped angrily at the tears trying to fall. Once again, my mouth refused to cooperate. “I can’t explain,” I finally said. “But she didn’t go to the grocery store. And she’s not coming back.”
After shushing someone on the other end of the line, Dad sounded louder this time, like he’d gone into another room. “What do you mean, not coming back?” He was finally paying attention.
“I mean...” I started to say, “She was taken by two creepy aliens or something,” but in a split second I forgot about my strange observational word vomit, and my mouth yelled something totally different. “My books are coming to life!”
Technically true, butnothelpful right now.
Silence on the other end. “Brynn, can we talk about this when I get home?”
Letting out a guttural sound, I hit the red button to end the call and slammed the phone down on the table. Then I groaned and wanted to kick myself as I carefully picked it back up. The impact had made the initial cracks grow and spread across the phone. Only a small corner along the bottom was still unscathed.
The plastic covering on the kitchen chair creaked as I sank down into it.
What had the mossy one said before they left?When you agreed no one could know, it was binding.
No one could know.
Binding.
No one else could know.
But I still did.
I refused to forget.
Though even now, there was a part of me that still tried to reason it away, to tell me I’d imagined the whole thing. It made me dig in my heels further. I wouldnotforget what I’d seen. Even if, for reasons I didn’t understand, I couldn’t seem to physically tell anyone.
No one could know.
The words came back to me again.
