Page 160 of Switch!
Caleb looks over at me, his eyes wild. “Here’s what’s going to happen. You’ll put me in Jesse’s body. You can have this one back. The cops aren’t looking for me. They’re looking for Travis Anderson.”
I very carefully get to my feet. “None of this is necessary,” I tell him. “We have a plan to get you out of here.”
“The only thing I want out of,” Caleb snarls, “is this weak-ass body. Now!”
“Fine! Okay! We’ll get you a new one. Someone like Patrick who doesn’t want to live anymore. You read about him, right? Just trust me. Please.”
“Trust you?” Caleb barks laughter. “Are you fucking kidding me? I’m dead, Travis. You killed me! I read all about it in your stupid little diary. You stole my body, left me with a goddamn child molester, and if that wasn’t bad enough, you got me killed. Then you come back here acting like we’re going to be lifelong friends? Do you even hear yourself?”
“You’re no saint,” I growl. “I know what really happened to Raymond. And how much you enjoyed it.”
Caleb tilts his head. “Then you know exactly what I’m capable of.” He presses the knife to Trixie’s throat, making her shriek. “I’ll kill her. You know I will. Do what I say or she’s dead.”
She turns her head enough to fix pleading eyes on me. My anger crumples beneath the rising panic. I don’t want to see her get hurt. Or worse.
“You’ll be wanted for murder,” I say in a shaking voice, “and this time I won’t come rescue you. You’ll end up on death row.Oryou can put away the knife and we’ll figure out a plan that works for all of us.”
I’m lying, and I’m glad that Trixie knows it, because even if he complies, I’ll never do anything to help this monster again. I was a fool to think he could change. Whatever goodness I saw from his childhood must have been snuffed out years ago. The only thing left is cruelty.
“Who said anything about murder?” Caleb retorts. “I’ll make it look like an accident.”
He grabs Trixie’s arm and pulls. She tries to resist, but he easily overpowers her. I’m rushing toward them when he slices the knife across her wrist, crimson liquid pouring out.
Go!I hear Jesse say from inside.This is just like Patrick and the gun. Stop him! Now!
He’s right. I launch out of Jesse’s body and into the one that truly belongs to me. The experience is horrific, because suddenly I’m looking down at Trixie, watching her whimper and tremble as she bleeds. I try to assert control, but I can’t. Caleb is resisting me, or the emotional distress I feel makes it too difficult, or maybe it’s the sickening pleasure that he feels. I don’t know. I can’t concentrate.
“Leave her alone!” I hear Jesse cry. “You can have whatever you want. Just don’t hurt her.”
Caleb looks over, sees him rushing toward the bed, and swings the knife around. Jesse is going to run right into it. He doesn’t see the blade, too focused on helping Trixie. I imagine Colin weeping at Jesse’s funeral while I look on as a disembodied ghost, unable to provide any sort of comfort. Gismonda will be there too, the only one who can see or speak to me, her tone accusatory.I told you he would die. Why didn’t you listen?
Trixie is weeping openly now. Caleb is bracing himself. I can sense his thoughts. He’s not afraid to kill Jesse, preferring to find a younger body to switch into. His old friend Elliot, or maybe Dean. He doesn’t understand how that works, so he’ll keep hurting the people I love until I help him. My mother, for instance. She’ll be next.
I can’t allow that to happen. I might not be able to take control at the moment, but I’ve learned a trick or two since all of this began. Mentally spreading my arms wide, I wrap them around Caleb and drag him down deep inside me, forming a black box around us.
My feet barely touch ground before I’m shoved off them again. When I look up, Caleb is standing over me. Not in my body. I haven’t seen him like this since that fateful day on his front lawn, because even when I wore his skin and looked in the mirror, there was a subtle difference. Caleb carries himself like a weapon. His stance is aggressive, hands clenched into fists, his face twisted up with rage. Seeing his hulking form standing over me again brings back school days filled with dread, which makes it all the more laughable that I ever tried to help him. Now I’ll get my just reward. He’s going to tear me apart.
I’m granted a brief reprieve when Caleb notices our surroundings and becomes confused. We’re in a church, maybe because it was on my mind so recently. I’m on the floor between pews and can see an open casket, Jesse’s lifeless body resting inside.
“Where are we?” Caleb says. When he glances back down at me, he must realize that we look like our old selves again, because he raises a hand to stare at it in wonder. Then he uses it to touch his chest and feel his face. The relief I see there is replaced by suspicion.
“How did we get here?”
I scurry away from him and stand, not saying a word. His confusion is the only advantage I have.
“Answer me!” he demands. “What is this place?”
“Go see.” I nod toward the casket after mentally adjusting a single detail. I change the body so it no longer resembles Jesse.
Caleb keeps his attention trained on me. “This is the black box, isn’t it? None of this is real.”
“It was though,” I reply. “We’re in the past. Go look.”
He glares at me, but his curiosity wins out. Caleb turns and stomps down the aisle while I debate my next move. Bringing him here isn’t enough. That worked on Patrick until he learned more about the nature of what I can do. That gave him an advantage. Caleb’s is even greater. He’s read my journal, all of my secrets laid bare. I got the jump on him by bringing him here, but he’s already catching up. To beat him, I’ll have to come up with something new.
Caleb has reached the casket. He’s staring down at his own body. Reasoning with him never seems to work, but maybe I can get through to him emotionally. Hit him where it hurts and turn that anger into sorrow. I draw from memory and fill the pews with copies of the people who attended his funeral. Including his parents.
“What the fuck?” Caleb snarls, turning around. “Is this my funeral?” He sees the people gathered there, staring longest at his weeping mother. I’m hoping he’ll cry too and maybe fall to his knees as emotion tears down the walls inside him. Instead he points a finger in my direction and utters a single word with seething contempt.
