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couldn’t say what. Without warning it came at me, pouncing
upward in a whirl of twisting wisps, reaching for my feet with
enthusiasm.
    I gave a shrill, piercing
scream as I jerked away. The chair tilted and I threw out my arms,
flinging a can of soup as I scrambled to catch myself. Noise
exploded as I fell. First a tinkling crash, followed closely by a
resounding thud. That was me hitting the floor, landing roughly on
my side.
    When people said they had
the wind knocked out of them, they had a point. I laid there
gasping for breath. My entire body ached from impact. Whatever
feelings I’d been catching were gone along with that thing,
whatever it was.
    I stayed still for a few
moments, and seriously considered if maybe I was crazy. Perhaps my
accident had triggered a case of schizophrenia and this was all a
hallucination. That was plausible. I was very private, and with the
disappearing act I had pulled at eighteen, I’d never given anyone
the chance to diagnose me.
    That could also mean I
didn’t have the ability to feel emotions. I mean, an empath,
really? When being crazy was the logical answer, you knew things
had hit rock bottom. Probably I should see a doctor. But then I
remembered back to the years of therapy and pills, and I just
couldn’t bring myself to do it. I would rather be where I was,
barely keeping it together and possibly crazy, than living like
that.
    Something firm pressed into
my neck. I gave a strangled cry and lashed out with my arm. Much to
my humiliation, it was only my neighbor Lucas Finch. He moved away
at my outburst and was now standing across the kitchen watching me
warily. “Just checking your pulse too see if you were still
alive.”

Chapter 6
     
    I gingerly picked myself up
off the linoleum. Most of the glass from the broken window had
fallen outside, but a few pieces had scattered across the floor
before I landed, leaving me a bit scratched.
    “ Don’t move,” he
instructed. “Your feet are bare. Where do you keep the broom?” I
pointed to the laundry closet. “Did someone try to break
in?”
    “ No. I threw a can of soup
out the window.” He handed me the broom. “It was an accident,” I
added lamely. “I fell off the chair.”
    I began to sweep while he
put said chair to rights, setting it in its proper spot. “I heard
you scream, then the breaking glass. It sounded like you were being
murdered.” His voice was deep, gravelly, and the way he spoke gave
off the impression that he usually didn’t say much.
    “ If that were the case you
would have been useless. You didn’t bring a weapon.” I finished
sweeping and put the broom away.
    I turned to find him
watching me intently. I knew what Lucas must be seeing. Me, clad in
only my nightclothes (not the cute pair) and covered in scratches.
Long layers of strawberry-blonde hair hanging in complete disarray,
with bangs that fringed my eyes sticking out in all directions. I
had to be looking pretty grim just then, my brown eyes distant, my
pale complexion turned somewhat wan. I sure wasn’t looking my best.
It was that damned swirly thing, or maybe the
schizophrenia.
    The longer he stared at me,
the more curious I became. He was empty, no emotion whatsoever, but
it was his thoughts that I wanted a glimpse of. What could he be
thinking while he looked at me that way?
    I didn’t want to be alone
in the house yet, and sensing he would soon go, I hurried to make
up a legitimate excuse to stall our leave-taking. “Do you mind if I
use your phone?”
    He didn’t mind, so I
followed, trotting after him as we crossed the yard. It was dark,
the lights from my kitchen spilling out from behind us. Faintly I
could see his back. Muscles flexed beneath his shirt, shoulder
blades moving rhythmically with each step.
    His voice cut through my
thoughts. “You don’t have a phone?”
    “ No. Usually I don’t need
one.”
    I didn’t know what to say
after that, how to fill the silence. Our conversations were
stilted. I just didn’t