Grey Eyes (Book One, The Forever Trilogy)

  Grey Eyes

  Brandon Alston & Quinteria Ramey

  Edited by Frankie Sutton

  **********

  Kindle Edition

  Copyright 2011 Brandon Alston

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1 – Sacrifices

  Chapter 2 – Nathan

  Chapter 3 – Revelations

  Chapter 4 – Home

  Chapter 5 – Memories

  Chapter 6 – Darren

  Chapter 7 – Helpless

  Chapter 8 – Manipulated

  Chapter 9 – Safe

  Chapter 10 – Enemies

  Chapter 11 – Fireworks

  Chapter 12 – Come

  Chapter 13 – Foolish

  Chapter 14 – History

  Chapter 15 – Reunion

  Chapter 16 – Goodbye

  Chapter 17 – Miracle

  Chapter 18 – Boston

  Chapter 19 – Aiden

  Chapter 20 – Apology

  Chapter 21 – Unexpected

  Chapter 22 – Warning

  Chapter 23 – Autobiography

  Chapter 24 – Homecoming

  Chapter 25 – Runaway

  Chapter 26 – Proposal

  Chapter 27 – Wonderland

  Chapter 28 – Spectacle

  Chapter 29 – Time

  Chapter 30 – Guilty

  Chapter 31 – Goodbye

  Chapter 32 – Sixteen

  Chapter 33 – Purpose

  Chapter 1

  Sacrifices

  The sudden burst of sound coming from the telephone startled me, and I immediately turned my attention to my mother's bedroom door. Please, God, be asleep. It rang again. I leaped from the table, covering the entire distance of my living room before it could ring a third time. If only I could summon that kind of energy in gym class.

  “Ana? Can you hear me? Hello…?"

  My eyes returned to her door. Nothing. Thank goodness.

  “Hey Jaz, I’m here.”

  “Oh good, you won’t believe what I just heard about Erick!”

  “My Erick?” I asked, pretending to be interested.

  Jasmine squealed, “The very same one!”

  I took the phone into my room and stretched out across the bed. Jasmine went on about the fallout from Erick being caught with Jessica, despite his going out with her older sister, Amber. To be honest, I could have cared less. High school gossip doesn’t exactly set my soul on fire, but Jasmine was a friend, and I haven’t had one of those in years. I played my part, making sure to sound as if I’m hanging onto her every word, sometimes throwing in a gasp, or a “You can’t be serious!” for good measure.

  Trivial or not, I so needed this—to feel normal. This is what girls my age are supposed to be doing—staying up late to talk about things that don’t matter. But then, if I were normal, maybe they would. I tried to picture myself as the average teenage girl (I left Jasmine to extol the physical virtues of David Beecher, our school’s star running back and resident alpha male; she hardly needed my input for that). How much different would I be? Well, first off, I would have a car—no more creepy bus rides alongside old guys with gap-toothed grins that always sat too close. And I would have friends too, lots of friends—enough that I wouldn’t ever have to worry about where to sit for lunch. Maybe I would even be popular, maybe homecoming queen—okay, I would never be that girl, but a boyfriend might be nice…

  “Ana…? Are you even listening to me?”

  “Oh, sorry. I guess I kinda dazed off—“

  “Thinking about Erick, I bet! Girl, if you’d put some effort into it, boys like that might notice you.”

  “Effort? Like what?”

  “Like maybe a skirt or a tight little pair of jeans that shows off those curves? Something to remind people that you’re a girl? I mean sweat pants are comfortable around the house but come on…"

  She wasn't exaggerating. My entire wardrobe consisted of sweat pants and t-shirts in the summer, and sweat pants and sweatshirts in the winter. Obviously, if it were up to me, I’d have nicer clothes—at least normal ones. But then, what was up to me? Even my bedroom was my mother's design, and it reeked terribly of old person. Who has pictures of cacti on their bedroom wall?

  "Jaz? Can I ask you something?”

  “What’s up?”

  “Do you think I’m pretty? I mean if you were a guy, would I be somebody you’d maybe wanna ask out?”

  “Hells yeah! I mean, sure you dress like a forty-year-old alcoholic… Kidding! But seriously, you’ve got a super cute face and those eyes! Make sure you’re an organ donor, cause if something happens to you, not that I want it to, but if it did, donate those eyes to me!”

  I stood up and moved to the small mirror above my dresser, looking over the skinny grey-eyed girl staring back at me. Technically, the hair that reached my shoulders was brown, but the shade’s so dark it might as well be black. I stared into my own face. I 'm decent looking, I guess. My mom says I have my aunt’s eyes—she died before I was born—a deep, rich grey like gathering storm clouds just before a thundering rain. My mom, for reasons beyond me, used to insist that I wear colored contacts, but I had at least won that fight. Truth was, I liked them more than anything else about me. They made me feel like I was different, special even. I don’t know if I would go as far as “super cute,” but that’s the point of having friends, isn’t it? To build you up?

  “Thanks, Jaz.”

  “No biggie—Hey, guess what?”

  “What?”

  “We’re gonna be juniors next year!”

  So much for feeling normal. Jasmine’s words had torn a giant hole into my fantasy and I could literally feel the “normal girl” feeling spilling out of me. To tell the truth, I didn’t know where I’d be when school picked back up in a couple of weeks. This year and a half in Pelion, South Carolina has been the longest I’d ever lived in the same place, and I’ve never been happier. It’s allowed me time enough to make a friend, to both start and finish the school year with the same teachers and classmates, and most of all, it’s allowed me to experience moments like tonight, where I could actually forget that my life was as far from normal as it was possible to be. I didn’t want to jinx it by assuming that I’d be enrolling at Pelion High with Jasmine next school year.

  “Oh crap! I think my mom just came upstairs! Talk to you tomorrow!”

  It would have been nice if Jasmine’s mom could’ve come before she reminded me about school. I yawned and trudged lazily into the living room to return the phone to the holster.

  My mother was exiting the small kitchen area when our eyes met. I nearly dropped the phone. First, she appeared confused by my startled reaction, but that quickly passed into anger.

  “Who were you talking to, Ana?”

  “No one,” I replied. I did my best to keep my tone casual. “Just a friend from school.”

  “You never told me about this friend. And since when are we the type of weak-minded women who need friends?”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t think you’d mind if—“

  "You think I’m stupid don’t you? You think I don't know when my own daughter is lying to my face? That was your grandmother, wasn't it?

  "No!” I answered emphatically. “Her name is Jasmine! “

  “What did she tell you? Tell me the truth Anastasia or so help me…”

  “I am!”

  She stomped across the room and snatched the phone from my hand. I watched her fingers dial *69. I freaked.

  “You can’t! You’ll get her in trouble!”

  Again, she wasn’t listening. She moved back across th
e living room and into the kitchen. Her voice got loud—she was arguing with one of Jasmine’s parents. I fell onto the couch and buried my face into my hands. Jasmine would be so pissed.

  When my mother returned to the living room, her tone was softer. “Sweetheart, I’m sorry. I’m just trying to protect you. One day you’ll understand—"

  I wasn’t trying to hear her. “Understand? What’s not to understand? You enjoy making my life hell. I can’t leave the house after school, can’t have any friends, I can’t even have a phone call! This isn’t normal!”

  “Ana…”

  “Just tell me the truth, please. What are we hiding from? What is so terrible? I’m almost sixteen now, I can deal with whatever it is.”

  No reply.

  I left her alone on the couch, stomping toward my room as I brushed away tears.

  “Ana!” she called out after me.

  I didn’t answer. I didn’t feel I owed her any more time to explain why she made us live the way we did. She wouldn’t tell me the truth, so why should I listen? I was tired of the rules, and so tired of the secrets. Tomorrow morning, when she left for work, I was leaving and never coming back. That was the truth.

  ********************

  The sound of knocking woke me. My alarm clock read 3:42. Who could possibly be at the door this late? I got up to check, but my mother met me at my door. Her eyes were wide and panicked.

  “Ana, code red.”

  My own eyes widened. “But…”

  “Now, dammit!” The knocking turned into pounding. I was frozen in my stance.

  She pushed me into the room, pointing to the space under my bed, her eyes pleading for obedience. I listened. I crawled as far as I could go, until my back was flat up against the wall. My hands were shaking at my sides.

  A moment later, I heard the front door open. My mother’s voice was surprisingly calm.

  “What seems to be the problem?”

  “Do not play games. You know what I am. You know why I am here.” The second voice was deep like a man’s, but it had a wildness to it—almost unnatural.

  My mother’s reply was stern. "Leave this place. You have no business here.”

  "Oh, but I do. Do you know how long we’ve searched for you? I cannot be true to my race and let you live. Such a thing is treason.”

  “I said leave—“

  My mother’s words became screams. I covered my mouth to keep the fear from sounding in my throat. Silence followed—long, never ending silence. I wanted so badly to call to her, to hear her tell me that she was okay, but I had been trained for this faceless danger my entire life. I knew to be absolutely quiet, at all costs.

  The phone rang. The man answered. I heard him say Jasmine’s name. I heard him say my name.

  “Impostor!” he shouted. “He said that she is but a schoolgirl. I’ll ask this question only once. Where is she?”

  There was no response from my mother. I began to hear him move around the house, the sounds of things crashing and breaking serenading this nightmare until suddenly it was quiet. I closed my eyes when his muddy black boots appeared in my doorway.

  “She’s gone!” my mother screamed from the other room. “She called to tell her friend goodbye. She should be half way to Brighton by now. We knew you were coming!”

  His laugh was slow and deliberate. “You tip your hand, foolish hag. Listen to how much faster your heart is beating now—your voice, it reeks of desperation. She’s here. I will find her, and she will die.”

  I could hardly breathe. With every passing second, I found myself fighting over and over the urge to scream. My body seemed to feel the weight of his presence. Every time his boot clunked against the wooden floor, my body shuddered violently. With each step, he was that much closer to finding me. And I was that much closer to death.

  He moved first to the closet, ripping the door from its hinges. A low growl began to hum in his throat, and then he began to laugh again.

  “I know you’re here young one, and if you’re not in the closet then…”

  I covered my mouth.

  “Peak-a-boo!” In an instant, his face had appeared in the space between the floor and my bed. He stared at me through blood red eyes, his face scarred and pale. Wild excitement gleamed in his pupils and his lips began to quiver, revealing blood stained teeth.

  I screamed and tried to move but my muscles didn’t respond. His gaze paralyzed me. He inched himself further beneath the bed, bringing his face closer to me, his eyes never leaving mine. He began to whisper in some language I didn’t understand.

  He reached out his hand and I felt the ends of his fingers graze my face. I wanted to scream for help but couldn’t find my voice.

  "So pretty,” he breathed. His odor burned my nostrils like fire. I followed his eyes as they inched down my face to my neck. He bared his teeth and then, suddenly, he was shouting, writhing in obvious pain. He began to retreat, but not of his own doing. Something was dragging him from under the bed. He began to throw his arms around madly, alternating between impotently resisting whatever was forcibly removing him and last-ditch efforts to reach me.

  Pulled completely into the light, I watched him curl up into a ball. Whatever he saw, it filled him with such terror that he covered his face. Another set of boots were visible just beyond him but I blinked and in that instant they were both gone.

  I crawled from under the bed. I couldn’t explain what had happened, nor could I be sure the danger had passed, but an overwhelming need to go to my mother possessed me. I found her stretched across the living room floor. She wasn’t moving. My heart feared the worst, but when I knelt beside her, she began to speak. Her face was turned in the opposite direction, and I didn’t have the courage to face her. Our intruder had made one thing perfectly clear, he’d come for me.

  “Oh, thank God.” She strained even to whisper. “Are you hurt?”

  “No, but you…” I stood up and looked for the phone to dial 911 but found it broken in half on the kitchen floor. There wasn't another house for miles. I ran back to my mother’s side, dropping to my knees, tears now running down my face. I put my head onto her chest and closed my eyes. “I’m sorry mom. I’m so sorry.”

  “There isn’t much time, Ana,” she spoke weakly. “He may not have been alone." She coughed loudly. "Bottom drawer… yellow envelope…must go now. You know the way.”

  “But mom.”

  “Now, Ana.”

  I crawled to my feet. She had trained me to follow her every instruction without question, so I ran into her room. This was the first time I had ever been allowed inside. All around the room were pictures of me, dating back to when I was just a toddler. I choked back fresh tears and moved to the chest of drawers. Inside the bottom drawer, I found the envelope. There were plane tickets, three hundred dollar bills, a cell phone, and a map of the area inside. On the map, black ink zigzagged away from the house. It was obvious what she wanted me to do—but how could I leave her here? I wouldn’t.

  I ran back to the living room, ready to protest my leaving her alone. I fell to my knees beside her, taking hold of her face and turning it gently to mine. When my eyes met hers, my voice faltered.

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you Ana,” she whispered. “But I know that he will. You can trust him.” She was losing consciousness. Her brown eyes, covered by grey colored contacts, lost their focus and her body went limp in my arms. I felt myself shudder as a chill raced down my spine. I grabbed the envelope and ran out into the warm summer’s night, my soul aching.

  Chapter 2

  Nathan

  My mind had shut down; becoming a jumbled mess of random thoughts and half memories, yet my training persisted. I’d made this trip a hundred times in my year and a half in Pelion, my mother had seen to that, and my legs were now running, moving me through the unyielding black of the woods without my telling them to move.

  It wasn’t until I reached the clearing that my brain reloaded, focusing long enough to give me control of
my own body. This clearing was my destination, where my mother would be waiting with a stopwatch and a frown. It was never fast enough, no matter how fast I ran.

  I looked for her, not truly expecting to see her, but hoping just the same. Reality sunk in. I broke down, crouching in the tall grass as images of my mother flashed in my head. The pain was agonizing, as if my insides were on fire, my nerves being scorched by the flames, the smoke choking my lungs so that I couldn’t breathe. I laid out in the grass, ignoring my mother’s screaming voice in my head, the voice telling me to keep going…

  Did I want to? Did I deserve to? I blocked out my mother’s voice—I blocked out the thoughts of her altogether. She was dead because of me; because she was trying to protect me—me, who had hated her for It. I closed my eyes and wished for the monster’s return. That it would come to reunite me with her, with my dad…

  Suddenly, the insides of my eyelids became bright red and when I opened my eyes there was light against my face, disappearing for brief moments, but always finding it again. It was a flashlight, its owner a bushy brown-haired boy no older than ten or eleven.

  “H-hello? Are you okay?” he asked as he approached. His eyes were scanning the woods behind me. He had a first aid kit in his left hand and he sat it down beside me.

  “Who are you?” I asked.

  He smiled. “Nathan. Don’t worry, I’m a friend. Can you walk?”

  I nodded. The gentleness in his face told me that I could trust him. Nathan helped me up to my feet and told me to follow him. It was a short trip as the next bit of woods was shallow, a little wooden cabin being stationed in the very next field.

  Nathan led me up through the side door and into a small kitchen, taking one more look into the shadowy woods before locking the door behind us. The kitchen was homely; there was an old iron oven to my right, a wide square metal sink bolted into the opposite wall, and an icebox sitting in the middle of the room. He paced nervously for a few moments and then stopped abruptly, turning to me and asking, “You wouldn’t have a phone would you?”