Chapter 11: Mixed messages

Amara:

I watch Kell’s retreating back as he makes a hasty exit. Shame and anger burn through me at the thought that he ran from me. Images of Jason avoiding me after we had sex course through my mind.

What is wrong with me?

I can’t believe I let him kiss me. Leaning my back on the table, I sift my fingers through my hair and take a couple of deep breaths. I feel like such a fool right now. I don’t understand why this is happening again. I might not have had sex with Kell, but I can’t help but feel the same humiliation that I felt with Jason two years ago.

Pushing away from the table, I swallow down my tears and pick up my things. The sky is dark and gloomy, which is a good reflection of my current mood. Gazing in the direction where Kell usually parks his car, I have to bite back a curse. It’s gone.

Feeling foolish, I search the lot until I find my mini. It’s sitting in the center of the parking lot, looking as lonely and lost as I feel. Thankfully, my ride home is uneventful. I don’t think I can take any more drama at this moment.

As I make my way down the road, my body shudders. The cold begins to permeate my bones again, reminding me that I have to get home before it gets worse. Pushing down on the accelerator, I rush home. By the time I get home, my teeth are chattering, and my toes are aching painfully. As the cold continues to crawl through my veins, I rub my forearms hard, but it’s hopeless. I need to get to a hot bath.

Mimi opens the door with a warm smile.

“Hey, Mimi.” I greet her through chattering teeth. Mimi closes the door behind me and turns to me with a concerned frown. “Are you well, Ms. Amara?”

Unable to talk through my chattering teeth, I nod my head.

Mimi has been with the family for a long time. She’s in her seventies, short and round, with a gray bun and a sweet smile. “Hmm, maybe you’re coming down with a cold. How about I make you some warm soup.” She says as she turns towards the kitchen. She’s always been very kind to me. “By the way, your parents are not at home. Your father had a sudden business trip this afternoon, and your mother decided to join him. Her stylists are here, though. They're upstairs waiting for you. Your mother said you can talk about the pageant when she gets back.” She calls out from over her shoulder.

Feeling distressed, I glance up the stairs where my mom’s stylists are waiting. Damn it, I had forgotten about the pageant dresses. Ugh!

Once again, my body lets out a bone-rattling tremor. It feels like I’m sitting in a block of ice, and it terrifies me. It has never been this bad before. I need to get rid of Delia and Carlo before the cold gets too overwhelming.

Making a decision, I run up to my room. The room looks like an explosion of fabric with dresses strewn everywhere. Most of them on my bed and settee. Delia’s smile widens as she rises from her perch on my bed, and Carlo follows behind her. “Amara…doll. It’s so good to see you.” They both say in delight.

I close my eyes as another tremor shakes my body. Thankfully, Delia and Carlo halt in their tracks as soon as they notice my shuddering body. Carlo is also surgically enhanced everywhere. I’ve always thought that his face is so tight that you can bounce a quarter off of it. His eyebrows rise to the top of his forehead, and his eyes are tilted at an abnormal angle. He always looks permanently surprised.

His sister, Delia, is no different. She loves to wear hair extensions, which makes her hair look huge. She’s at least five feet tall without shoes and in her fifties. But the rest of her is not. Delia is a self-admitted plastic surgery fanatic. She’s had breast implants, a facelift, and various other surgeries that she’s mentioned. Her bottle-blond hair is always coiffed, and her makeup is never smudged. Now that I think about it, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her without makeup.

They also tend to be a little over the top with the way they dress. Right now, Carlo is wearing a paisley red top, tight red pants, and shiny red wingtips. Hair plugs were implanted in his head several years ago, which I will admit look really fake. They make him look like he stepped into a wind tunnel. Delia is wearing a leopard dress that’s at least thirty years too young for her and six-inch leopard heels.

Regardless of their fake exterior, they’re surprisingly kind people. They’ve always backed me up when my mom would berate me over anything and were very supportive of my aspirations to be a photographer.

Looking concerned, Carlo carefully leans close and asks. “What’s wrong, chica? Why are you shaking?”

I gaze into Carlo’s dark brown eyes as I try to come up with a reason for them to leave.

I open my mouth and nearly pass out when my breath creates a fog in front of me. This is beyond bad. It takes me a moment before I can calm my chattering teeth and stutter out. “I’m s…s…sorry guys, but I think I’m sick. Is…” I shiver again. “… Is it okay if we do this another d-d…day?”

Carlo and Delia nod their heads in unison. “Of course, honey. We’ll schedule something when you’re feeling better. Is there something you need?”

I shake my head. “No, I’m…I’m okay. I just need to lie down.”

Delia looks at Carlo then back at me. “Of course, you should go and lay down. Carlo and I will reschedule another time. Feel better, okay?” She says as she reaches for the dresses strewn around and packs them up.

Once they’re gone, I rush into the bathroom and turn on the hot water. I don’t even wait for it to fill up before I slip into the tub and let the water rain down on me. An hour passes, and I can’t seem to get warm. Mimi checks in on me and brings me some warm soup, but it has no effect on me. As the night progresses, the cold gets worse. Not knowing what else to do, I continue taking hot baths, but in the end, it’s hopeless. Instead, I wrap myself in a heated blanket and curl up on my bedroom floor until I fall into a miserable sleep.

The next morning is the same. Unfortunately, I’m in too much pain to move. My lips are numb, and I’m sure that I'm turning blue. My muscles feel stiff and swollen. There’s no way that I can go to school in this condition. So, I have Mimi call me in sick and curl back into my corner and cry. Am I dying?

Dreams of the girl, Sophie, haunt me for the rest of the day. I wish I could have done some research on her. But I’ve been so busy. I also dream of Kell and our kiss a few times throughout the day. Each dream ends up with him growing wings and flying away from me. By the afternoon, I’m so cold that I hope for death. It has never been this bad, and I know that I’m dying.

In my hypothermic hallucinations, I wonder when death will come and how long it will take for Mimi or my parents to find me. Then, I close my eyes again and dream.

“Please…” I whimper out. After that…thing stabbed me, she moved me to lay me down on a stone slab. I begged and pleaded for her to let me go or get me a doctor. Blood is still spurting from my mouth. I don’t understand how I’m still alive. The pain is unbearable, but I’m still lucid enough to beg for my life. My tears have dried at this point, and my throat is raw and swollen from my screams that I can barely open my eyes. A door opens nearby, awakening me from my painful fog.

As if by magic, the candles in the room light up around me. I blink my eyes, trying to get a better look at my tormentor, but all I can see is a shadow leaning over me. That is when the chanting begins. I don’t know why it scares me more than the knife in my chest. I mean, at this point, I know I’m going to die. As the chanting grows, the heat begins to crawl through me, and the pain becomes stronger. My body begins to sizzle and burn. I’d cry out, but I don’t have any strength left inside me. Blood pours like a river around me. It’s so copious that I’m nearly choking on it. I shudder and shake as the last bit of strength leaves my body. The person holding me down places a hand on my wound and digs its claws deep inside my chest. Giving one final cry, I breathe my last breath as the hand rises from my chest, holding my heart in its hand. That’s when the world fades away, and the sweet release of death takes me.

Waking up on the floor, I try to get up, but my body is in too much pain. Sobbing inconsolably, I can’t help but feel regret. But the regret is not for me. It’s for Sophie. Because now I know that I’m going to die before I find her. I’m sorry, Sophie!