Page 4 of Ruled By Fate

Again and again, she tried to break through to the surface. Again and again, she was held in place as though by an enormous, warm force.

Is this an earthquake? That must be what this—

Beyond the surface, a black, oil-like ribbon snaked its way to the crack in her ceiling, then spiderwebbed outward, quickly filling up the whole room. She let out a waterlogged shriek, and the lights went dead above her, pitching the cozy room into sudden darkness. The scent of lavender was gone, and the tub itself had chilled to such a degree she thought she must be having a seizure, though her body thrummed with the warmth she could not explain. She clawed at the porcelain edges, trying to hoist herself free.

Except, she couldn’t.

This isn’t an earthquake.

Suddenly, a warm pulse rippled through the room like a wave. It trembled the edges of the bathtub and rattled the sink against the wall. The faster it spread across the length of the ceiling, the faster the shadow retreated back, repelled by the strange, warm energy. Another muffled scream ripped through her lips, emerging only as bubbles as the floor buckled and shook. Her neighbor was still exercising in the apartment above her, seemingly unaware of the deadly struggle going on just beneath. She could hear his feet rhythmically pounding her ceiling. Though it couldn’t have been more than thirty seconds, she felt herself running out of air.

I have to get out of here. I’m going to drown.

Her head was spinning. Another few seconds, and she was going to black out.

There was a soft nudge against her fingers like a friend tapping for attention. Her eyes flew back to the water, only to see a tiny flicker of gold drifting in the evening light.

She instinctively reached for it and looped the pendant’s chain around her wrist.

At once, the room steadied. At once, that inexplicable pressure disappeared. A second later, she burst through the surface in an explosion of bubbles and spluttering gasps. When she opened her eyes, the world had returned to normal.

The lights flickered another moment, then went steady. Her neighbor’s aerobics music pounded through the ceiling above her, shaking occasional bits of plaster from the walls.

She took a second to catch her breath, then clasped the necklace around her neck and snatched the drain plug out of the water.

No. I’m not going to miss this place at all.

? ? ?

Brie stood, shivering and wrapped in a towel, looking down at her bathtub.

What the hell was that?

Her nurse’s training kicked in, and she patted herself down, checking for injuries. Two fingers on the inside of her wrist told her her heart was racing, but that was to be expected. She wiped off the mirror and checked her pupils. Normal. Frustrated, she resorted to checking the tub itself, running her hands over the inside of the ceramic vessel, looking for what, she couldn’t say.

When she started to shiver so hard her teeth chattered, she gave up and headed to the bedroom. She put on some black yoga pants and a sweatshirt over a strappy bra she had to wrestle to put on. A gift from Sherry. Her wardrobe had long ago fallen victim to her best friend’s sartorial sensibilities. If Brie ever hinted that she wouldn’t mind something a bit more practical, she’d be met with a stunned look and the affirmation that “Beauty is pain, Brianna. Stop acting brand new.” As a result, her closet was better stocked with more fashionable items than she’d ever have chosen if left to her own devices.

She pulled in a faltering breath, trying to shake past whatever had happened in the bath as she packed what remained into boxes, bracing for an emotional response that never came. Perhaps she was merely spent. The seismic shudders in the tub had scared her, and there was only so much someone could give before survival instinct took hold. But if she was honest, she supposed Dr. Rogers was right; her walls were too high and too strong to allow for any true intimacy, even with her own home. She was okay with that. She had her studies, her best friend, and the constant repression of severe trauma to keep her company.

And her plant.

It was a lonely thought — lonely enough that it made her self-conscious, even though she was standing by herself in a now barren living room. The emptiness seemed to close around her, and she suddenly decided she couldn’t stand to be in the place for another second.

She packed the boxes into her trusty silver Suzuki and went back into the apartment for a final look around to make sure she hadn’t missed anything. After a moment of consideration, she doubled back at the last second and wedged the dilapidated Ficus under her arm.

“You know what? I think you’re bouncing back.”

Chapter Two: The Ambush

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It was a ten minute drive to her dad’s house, but Brie stopped by her landlord’s place first to drop off her key, then by a favorite family restaurant to pick up takeout on the way. She drove the streets on autopilot and realized this was the last time she’d be able to do so for a long while. Geography and spatial orientation were not among her strengths. She relied entirely on her phone’s maps and navigator to get her to and from every new destination. She winced at the realization that she’d likely spend the next several months perpetually lost. For the first time, she felt a pang in her heart at the prospect of losing the familiar.

She turned onto her dad’s street and rolled to a stop by the curb. The grass needed mowing. She hadn’t had a chance to do that this past week. She wondered if she should call the boy who lived next door, maybe see if she could pay him a little each month to keep the place looking decent, assuming her dad didn’t frighten him off.

The old Chevy was out front, with grass growing underneath, parked in the spot farthest from the house. The area nearest the front door, where her mom’s Buick sedan had always parked, remained empty. Brie and her dad never spoke about it openly, but they both knew never to park there. It remained a shrine, as though she were going to come home any day now.

Brie walked up the cracked cement path to the porch with her sleeping bag in one hand and a takeout bag in the other, raising a finger to ring the bell. She hesitated. Part of her wanted to fetch the spare key from below the potted geraniums and let herself in. A stronger part realized this wasn’t her home anymore and hadn’t been for some time. She rang the bell.

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