Page 36 of The Otherworld

Further in, I find another entry filled with Adam Stevenson’s heart.

03/13/97

I can’t stop feeling like I’m missing something. Like there is something beyond the things we all care about and keep busy with—society, work, politics, culture, even religion and philosophy, the “deeper” things that seem to give fulfillment and comfort to some people… Are they just distractions or (at best) reflections of something else, something we’re all missing as a species?

What if it’s like this: life as we know it is a river, rushing and moving, never stopping. Constantly busy. But there’s something at the bottom of the river that’s genuinely worth having… and nobody knows it’s there because we’re so caught up in the river itself. We can’t even see what’s at the bottom.

I don’t know. Maybe this doesn’t make sense. It’s not really something I can put into words; it’s just a feeling I get sometimes. If I talk about ideas like this with Jack, he just tells me I’m overthinking and I need a drink. Maybe he’s right. Usually Jack’s solutions have less to do with solving a problem and more to do with enthusiastically ignoring it.

I hope I’ve been a good influence on him. Sometimes I wonder. Jack is smart and more talented than he thinks, but he’s also the stubbornest person I’ve ever met. I’m afraid if he ever takes the wrong path, there will be no getting him back. He’s all or nothing with everything he does, hell-bent on getting what he wants. And he always knows what he wants. I guess that can be a good thing… better than living in stagnation and indecision. But sometimes I think even escapism can be stagnation, in a way. A frantic need to feel something (the river?) so you don’t stop long enough to think about how frustrated and empty you really are.

But maybe I can’t blame Jack for being a thrill-seeker. Maybe we all have our own ways of escaping ourselves.

God, I think I really do need a drink.

* * *

BOOM, BOOM, BOOM—

My eyes fly open.

Darkness sways around me as sleep releases its hold. Outside noises push into my awareness: the crashing waves, the howling wind, the rain beating against the shutters, and—

BOOM, BOOM, BOOM.

I jolt upright and find myself on the living room floor, my neck sore from leaning back against the couch. I must have dozed off while reading Adam’s journal. Lucius jumps to attention beside me, a low, threatening growl building in his throat.

My first assumption is that a shutter has come loose, and the wind is banging it against the house. But still, a shadow of fear looms over me, holding my heart in its ice-cold grip.

BOOM, BOOM, BOOM, BOOM, BOOM—

Lucius barks, loud and fearsome, scaring me out of my skin.

It’s not a shutter.

It’s coming from the back door.

My heart is pounding harder than the rain outside as I climb to my feet. Lucius prowls through the living room, his head lowered, growling eerily at the dark and making chill bumps race across my skin.

Crisp thunder cracks the sky, vibrating through the floorboards. Lucius hesitates, staring at the back door.

Just when I think the banging has stopped—

BOOM, BOOM, BOOM.

Lucius barks, startling me again. My heart hammers louder, louder, louder as I step closer, closer, closer to the door.

I hang back, anxiety gripping me tight. But this moment won’t become any easier by waiting on it. With one sharp breath of courage, I twist the knob and swing the door open.

No one is there.

A gust of wind blows cold rain inside just as a flash of lightning illuminates the doorstep.

The doorstep where no one stands.

I stare at the black void for a moment, watching the sheets of rain pour down. A burst of thunder echoes after the flash.

I slam the door shut and feverishly lock it—wet fingers slipping, trembling around the bolt. I brace my back against the door and gasp for breath, feeling choked. Lucius stands in the living room, watching me with questioning eyes.

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