CHAPTER SIX

Later, I'm sitting on my bed, making a poor attempt at reading. Every time I try to read a sentence, all the things Katherine said start blaring in my mind, forcing me to read the same line two, three, five times. I don't really know how to react to the new information. Should I be happy that I finally hold all the pieces of the puzzle, upset that I wasn't told sooner, or frightened by what the future holds in store?

Before my eyes, the words stamped in the book blur and mix, scattering across the page as I strain to hold on to them. I know I'm making things worse by picking apart everything this way - I have enough worries as it is and I certainly don't need anymore - but I can't help myself. I want a clear path ahead, one not littered with 'what if's and 'but's and 'why's, and the only way to get there is to clear out the debris, one head-ache inducing batch of questions at a time.

Suddenly, there comes a knock on my door.

"Yeah?" I call, shutting my book and placing it on the table beside me. I don't even know why I bothered trying to read it in the first place - it's not even a good book.

Caden opens the door and steps in, his hands in the pockets of his jeans. After a moment, he says, "I like your hair."

"Thanks," I reply, uncertain of where this is headed.

"I would've said so sooner but we haven't exactly spent much time together recently," he says, and I stare at him. "Did you cut it yourself?"

I nod. I can tell that, without being told, he understands my reason for cutting it all off. Somehow, he can see that it reminded me too much of Sarah, of everything she no longer has, of everything I no longer have.

A minute passes. "Katherine told me what she said to you," he says, and now we get to why he's really here.

I swing around so my feet rest on the ground by my bed, sighing as I do. "Yeah, I've been thinking about that," I say, and then look up at him. "When I came back from being...you know, dead, had you known that I'd be okay? Was all the worry for show? Or had you just forgotten about the whole Second Awakening thing?"

Caden walks over to where I'm seated and sits down beside me. "The Second Awakening isn't something people speak of much. The first time I was told about it, I was twelve. The second time was two days ago, when Katherine explained to me how you were still alive. It hadn't even crossed my mind before that, that you hadn't used your second chance. I wasn't even sure you got one because of the unusual circumstances."

"But Katherine did tell you after I woke."

It's a statement, not a question, but he answers anyway. "I didn't know straight away - I was never acting. But eventually, yes."

"And you, Katherine and Sarah made the decision not to tell me."

"It was Katherine's decision. Sarah and I didn't agree with keeping you oblivious to everything - we never have. But this is bigger than us. We have to do things we don't want to so that we can preserve the future foretold by the Seer."

I laugh but there's no humour in the sound. "You sound like Katherine."

Caden remains serious. "There was so much I wanted to tell you," he says, and in his eyes I can see all his regret, all his pain. I can see the tortured nights he spent lying awake, at first because of Rand's death, and then later because of me. "And there still is."

I turn my body to face him. "Then tell me," I say softly. "We shouldn't care about the future. It's not here yet and it won't be for a good while. Nothing we do now can ruin something that doesn't yet exist. We make our own future, and we shouldn't let it be shaped by someone else, even if they have our best interests at heart. No one but ourselves can decide our fate."

"Nice speech," he says, and I become aware of the fact that he's drifted closer, like we're both pieces of drift-wood, once lost at sea but now brought together by interconnecting currents.

"I only practiced it, like, twice."

"Impressive," he whispers.

"I feel like we're moving off topic," I say, but at this point, I'm too distracted by him for my heart to be in the words. He's moved closer and I can feel his heat up against my skin, his breath brushing against my cheek, his gaze on my eyes, my lips. It's intimidating. It's intoxicating.

"We're right where we need to be," he says. Then he leans forward and his lips meet mine softly, pulling away after a second.

It's not enough.

This time, I close the distance between us, putting a hand on his chest as our mouths meet. His kiss is strong, firm, and I find myself melting into him, dissolving at his every touch. He places his hand on my cheek and I move closer, unable to cope with even the slightest pocket of empty space between us. I can feel my heart beating in my chest, and I can feel him, his muscles tensing and relaxing as he moves, his lungs expanding and contracting with every stolen breath. An energy passes through us and I seize it, not even considering the fact that eventually we'll have to draw apart, that eventually this moment will pass and the future will arrive, cruel in its indifference and undisturbed by all it brings with it.

And as if I need another reminder, my vision picks this moment to come back to me, various scenes flashing loudly in my mind: darkness pooling at the edges of a freezing room; a man dressed in black, standing icily in the centre; blood, trailing across the floor in silence; a body, a boy-

In a moment of terror, I break away from Caden, gasping for breath.

"What is it?" he says, his voice overtaken by alarm and concern.

But I have no response for him. Just like there are things he hasn't told me, there are things I'm keeping from him, and this - this nightmare, this horror that feels it necessary to torment me during the day - is one of them. I recall, once again, why I stopped myself from uttering those three little words up on the roof just a few nights ago: because the more distance I put between us, the less it'll hurt if I can't stop this future, and the easier it'll be to let go once it's passed.

"Melissa," he says again, softer, deeper, "tell me what's wrong."

But I can't. I can't tell him because then he'll throw my words back at me, assuring me that everything will be fine, that the future isn't set in stone. But it is - I know it is. I'm a hypocrite. All that talk earlier about shaping our own future and here I am, unable to let myself get too close to him because a prophetical vision showed me his death.

"It's nothing. I just need some air," I say, and leave the room. I can feel my heart in my throat and I choke. This isn't how my life was meant to turn out. Things were meant to be better after I swapped back, but here I am, pushing away the only boy I've ever loved, struggling through a dense mist of unknowns, heading full-speed towards a future I fear. If anything, my life was better before I swapped back.

Nowadays, I feel like all I do is run away from one terror or another. Everywhere I turn, something horrible is waiting to greet me. I can't talk to Sarah without remembering that I know next to nothing about her, I can't sleep too deeply without being haunted by a past I don't remember, or bombarded by nightmares of a girl who is long gone. All I want is to escape - to be normal. But the opportunity to do so is nowhere to be found.

Caden doesn't come after me and I'm glad he doesn't. Every second I spend around him is a second that brings me closer to spilling my secret, and it only makes the weight of that secret more painful to bear. I need time to figure out what to do, how to do it and who to tell - if I tell anyone - and in the meantime, I need keep my distance, no matter how much I hurt as a result. Because from what I've seen, my visions have never been wrong, and if I get one chance to change the future - and that's a big if - I can't be distracted by worries or concerns.

I have to be ready, and I have to take it.

-:-:-:-:-

The basket handle is sweaty in my hands as younger-me treks across the field in the hot mid-day sun, with summer's peak barely a month away. It hasn't taken too long - only around ten minutes on my short legs, slipping through the tall dry grass.

Soon, I'm standing out front the new neighbours' house. They've already unloaded most of the belongings in their car and have left the front door open. I can hear them talking and moving things inside, and every now and then I see someone's leg or a portion of their body peeking out from around the corner.

I step inside. The air is instantly cooler in here. They wouldn't have the air-conditioner up and running yet, but just being out of the sun makes a tremendous difference. I know I can't just walk into their house - mum taught me better than that - and so instead, I go to knock on the door.

"Who are you?" someone asks suddenly behind me, and I turn around. A girl about my age stands on the newly placed welcome mat, her dark brown hair plastered to her sticky forehead. In her arms, she holds a box of stuffed animals, and it looks massive against her small body.

"Sarah," younger-me replies. "My mum told me to bring this." I hold out the basket, the cake inside still steaming under its cover of tin foil.

The girl eyes it with interest. "What is it?"

"Cake," I say proudly, making sure to show all my teeth when I smile. I lost my first tooth last week and ever since, all I've wanted to do is show off the gap. Kind of hard to do when there's no one around except my parents to see it.

The girl beams excitedly. "I'll get my parents." She walks past me and into the house while I stand statue-like in the doorway, unsure of whether I'm allowed in or not.

A moment later, the girl peeks back out from around the corner. "I'm Melissa, by the way," she says.

I grin, thrilled at the prospect of making a new friend.

When she returns, she brings her mother in tow. I stand straight, wanting to make a good impression. The lady smiles when she sees me. "You must be Sarah," she says, and I nod. "I'm Louisa."

"She brought us cake," Melissa interrupts enthusiastically.

"She did too."

I hold out the basket, and Louisa accepts it gratefully. "It's to welcome you," I say.

She smiles again. "Thank you, Sarah. Make sure you tell your parents I appreciate this very much."

I nod and begin to turn around, but Louisa speaks again. "Would you like to come inside? We can cut up the cake and you can have some."

My eyes go wide with excitement. "Really?"

She nods. "I'm sure Melissa will be fine with us sharing, won't you Mel?"

Melissa nods by her mother's side.

"Great," Louisa says, still smiling. "Come on in."

And I do.