On my way back, the chorus of screams that’s happened every few days since several months ago erupts from somewhere far away. No one knows what it means, but no one is ever close enough to it to find out what it means. No one wants to find out what it means. I know I don’t, so I walk faster before it somehow catches up to me; not that it ever has, but at this point, I’m pretty sure anything can happen.

Home. Out of breath, I slam the door shut behind me and lean against it. Against my desire to not look, I roll up my right sleeve. I twirl my wrist all around. Nothing. What the fuck- but it was real, I know it was! My other wrist… Nothing. I should look at where the knife was. I run to the bathroom, and once again, against my unwillingness to do so, I throw my jacket off and pull my shirt up. There’s half-dried blood around the bandages, and I can’t see the wound. It makes sense that this one bleeds; I was stabbed. I was stabbed. I never thought I’d ever say that. I take my shirt off entirely, clench my teeth and try to rip the binding from around my chest as fast as I can. Underneath, there’s somehow already a scar. A messy one, but way more healed than it’s supposed to be. It’s gross looking, the skin is pink and raised and bunched together, but it really shouldn’t be at this stage so soon. What the fuck is wrong with me? What’s happening to me? I hold my face in my hands. I can’t process anything right now. I can’t. I just can’t.

A few moments pass. I can’t let that guy roam free for another second, but… should I even be running around right now? What was that? That guy. That was calculated. He brought me into that room because… because— I don’t know why he would! I’ve only ever seen him twice in that building, and— ah, fuck, I couldn’t even find a book to find out what was wrong with me, but I don’t think any book in the world could tell me what the fuck is going on right now. This couldn’t possibly have happened at a worse time. I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to do any of this.

I should call Dual Shriek. Not bothering to wrap anything back up, I throw my shirt back on and practically stumble into the kitchen and dial the number taped onto the wall. I know it’s a long shot if something really bad happened there, but I have to try. As I wait for someone to pick up, every dial tone sounds longer than the last. I swear each one is a second longer, and the pauses stretch out, too. The point isn’t to confirm something bad happened. I know something bad happened. I just have to know if she’s still there.

Someone answers.

“Hello?” Pink. Or purple. I don’t know.

“Hello?” I respond, not sure if I should be relieved or panicked. Relieved that someone alive is there, but scared out of my mind for who it could be.

“Who is this?”

I didn’t even register that she asked me a question.

“Have you seen a girl- her name is- I’m looking for my sister, she works there.”

“Who is this?” the voice repeats. Another strange accent.

“E-Ever,” I tell her. “Ever Belmonte. I’m looking for Rhea Belmonte. I’m her brother. Is she there?”

“There is no one here but myself and my assistant. There has been…” She pauses. “...an incident of sorts.”

My heart sinks.

“ ‘Sister,’ you said?” she asks.

“Yes.”

“We have not identified any women from these victims.”

I don’t know if I should be happy or not. ‘Victims’ makes me dizzy.

“I’m just… I’m freaking out because—”

“I know. I understand.” No, you don’t. I can hear it in your stale voice. You don’t. “Listen, I would really like to help you, and I can, but not right now. Please meet me at the police station at 6:30 tonight. Ask for Kazami. We’ll talk.”

Kazami. I’ve heard that name a lot in the past couple of months, but I never found out who everyone was talking about (til recently, I guess). I used to think she was a singer, the way people would praise her, but she’s been unavoidable while reading the paper lately. ‘Prodigy detective who always finds the lost,’ or other phrases with similar wording. Even with that title, I doubt talking about the situation will make a difference, but I don’t know what else to do right now. I agree and I hang up, alone again. Even though I’ve been longing for it since I could hear those sounds, silence in the house makes me want to sob. It means I’m alone in here. Rhea’s supposed to be here telling me about how pretentious or kind the clients last night were. Making fun of the way I pronounced a word mid-sentence. Just being out here on the couch watching “I Love Lucy” reruns. I’d hear the brass in the intro song, come out of my room, sit for a few minutes, get bored, then leave to go do something else. I’d do anything to sit and watch it with her right now. Anything to hear a pulse. Hers.

Pulse… I really don’t know what stopped those knives from burying themselves into my skin. Yes, the strings, but what exactly are the strings? The only things I can think of are… I look down at my wrists again. I sigh. 6:30. It’s a quarter to 1. I don’t know what to do until 6:30. Why so far ahead? This is freaking torture. I can’t think about anything else; just Rhea and what happened at the library. Well, now I’m nervous, because I don’t know if that librarian will try to kill me if he sees me again. I would think he'd try, but he looked so scared when I- when those things shot out of me. I wonder if I can do it again, but I’m scared. I don’t really want to, but I hold both my arms out and try to focus on a mug I left out this morning. I feel stupid now, because nothing happens. Why? What makes this work? Just focus harder. Nothing. This blows. I know that what I saw was real, because that librarian saw it too. Not only that, but without their interference, the librarian would have killed me.

Him. Why was he trying to kill me? What did I do? I know earlier I thought he was behind everything, but yes, I realize how stupid that is. I’m specifically remembering yesterday at Echo Park. There were maybe a dozen and then some people there, not counting me and Simon. That thing I saw… The body… and then the woman vomiting the strings. The librarian can’t do that. If he could, he would’ve just done that to me instead of throwing knives, but I can’t shake the feeling that he really is related to all this.

All this. Is ‘all this’ what happened to Rhea? Is she just lost, sick and confused, wandering around and unable to find her way home? How does someone even get ‘sick?’ Rhea’s the strongest person I know. She’d never… She’d just never. I know that about her. I’ve known her all my life. I just know she would never. I just want to know where you are, Rhea. If you can’t tell me, I promise I’ll find my way to you. I’m going to find out what’s wrong, get you home safe, and tell you about how insane last night and this morning were. Then, in nine days, we’ll go see Stygian Stimulus, and it’ll be awesome. The best night of our lives until that point. Please just wait until I’m by your side again. Yeah, we’ll be okay. We always are.

Shit, I work tomorrow. No way, not in this condition I can’t. What if, against all odds, it does get busy again? Then I’d hear everyone’s pulses and freak the fuck out again. What if those things shoot out of me again? What if Laila sees that happen? She’d never talk to me again. Would she? She might be preppy, but she’s not shallow. She’s so sweet, too sweet to ditch me because of… Well, that wouldn't really be a shallow reason, would it? Letting someone go because you think they could hurt you? But she knows I wouldn’t, I would never. It’s just something that happens. If I explain that to her, would we still be cool? That I would never use it to hurt her? Can I even hurt someone with them? I think probably not, but that librarian looked like he was looking death straight in the face when he saw them, and I don’t even know him. Would someone that cares about me have a different reaction? Would they be more or less scared? Is the kind of fear this… this disorder gives people unconditional? Unconditional fear. What am I even saying? Is that kind of fear stronger than what Laila and I have? How do you gauge how close you are to someone on a scale of trusting that they won’t hurt you to calling the cops? Would she run and tell the first person she saw? Are we good enough friends for her to trust me? Is it bad that I’m even wondering about how much she trusts me? Doesn’t that alone mean that we really aren’t that close at all, if you really have to ask that?

Who am I kidding? ‘What we have.’ We’re coworkers, and she’s just really nice and personable to everyone. That’s her default. We don’t ‘have’ anything.

I know Rhea wouldn’t freak, though. She’d figure it out with me, know what to do, or at least try to find out what to do. I’m so fucking lost right now. I know I have to keep looking, but I don’t know where to go anymore. Sure, I actually have a few options: the grocery store, one of the parks, any one of the shops downtown (she really likes the record store too- why didn’t I go there while I was visiting Hidden Trove?). But I can’t go out like this. I can’t. I’ll scare someone. After that, someone calls security or the cops, and it's over. Where do you even lock freaks of nature up? I’m not even sure I should go to meet Kazami, but surely she wouldn’t sneak attack me with throwing knives. But wouldn’t a detective be more likely to do that than a librarian? A librarian? Something isn’t right about him, but I do really need to take that chance and talk to the detective, or I could never see Rhea again.

I should call in before I forget. I’ve hardly ever called in sick or anything, just once in the year-or-so I’ve been there, so I pull out the ‘Book o’ Numbers’ as Rhea calls it and find Loveview Cafe’s number. I dial it in and wait.

“Loveview Café.” Crap, sounds like Sarah.

“Uhh,” I wasn’t prepared, so now I’m stumbling.

“Ever?”

“Yeah.”

“Hey! Uh-oh, are you calling ‘cause you’re sick?”

“Yeah. Is Laila there?”

“Yeah, she’s- oh- oh, yeah, she wants to talk to you.” Relief. “Hope you’ll feel better soon!”

“Thanks.”

I’m not even done with the word when I hear Laila’s voice blare over the phone.

“Ever! What’s going on, is it true?” Dread. “Are you sick?” Right, I knew that’s what she was talking about.

“Er, sort of… A lot more than just that is going on, though. Are you still off at 1?”

“Uh-huh, but if you’re thinkin’ about hangin’, you’ve gotta get better first!”

I like Laila, I do, but she’s just way too happy for me right now. I wanted to at least tell her about Rhea in person, but I’m thinking now that it could be a bad idea. Again, the strings. Maybe I should just tell her now.

“Laila, I—”

“I’ll let Becky know that you’re not coming in tomorrow. I’ll super miss you though, need me to bring anything-?”

“No,” I say quickly. Too quickly. I feel bad. “I-I mean… Thank you, Laila. I’m just…”

“It’s okay, it’s okay, you have to tell me how last night went! I’ve been thinking about it all-”

“Laila.”

“Ever?”

I have to pause. I don’t even know how to tell her.

“Laila… Rhea’s gone. I don’t know where she is.”

*****

                                                                                             B-Side

I was just about to rise from the booth until I heard his name. I’ve been sitting for a little now- I do really like spending time here, I do- though I really should get going; they’re waiting for me, and then I must make the assessment. On this side of the line, the excitable girl seems to lose all her energy. Everything inside of her becomes an unbearable weight and sinks to the furthest depth it can find. She’s heard about Rhea. Not wanting to hurt her friend, nor somehow sway his direction of thinking for the worse or give him hope that can’t be fulfilled, she remains silent and listens. I can hear the whispering from inside of her.

You’ll find her. Maybe she’s running late. I’m so sorry for your loss. My condolences. She’s gotta be out there somewhere. People have stopped coming back after going missing. Poor Ever. I know she’s okay. What was the last thing she said to you? I’m sure she’s thinking of you right now. I don’t know how much time she has left. She’s gonna be okay, I think. I think she’s okay. She’s okay. She was so sweet. I know you loved her. I wish I could take the pain for you.

“I wish I could take the pain for you.” I mutter the words under my breath before taking one last sip of the tea the other girl had prepared for me. What a treasure it is to have someone that ever has that feeling toward you.

The coworker steps to Laila’s side to find a facial expression to read.

“Is everything-”

Laila holds up a finger toward her coworker and shakes her head. There were tears in her eyes, but Laila knows better than to break right now. She’s far stronger than she lets on. Her heart…

I really should get going.

*****

                                                                                             A-Side

It’s really unlike Laila to be so silent for this long. I feel bad, like I’ve ruined her day with my own problems. I wish I hadn’t said anything at all.

“Ever…” she begins.

“It’s- it’s fine. I just don’t think I’ll be in for a while.”

“I completely understand.” More silence. “Is there… anything I can do? Can I go see you when I’m off?”

I have to try not to reject the offer so fast this time so she doesn’t think I’m warding her off like some kind of plague. I’m genuinely touched by her consideration. Not only that, but I really am desperate for someone to talk to right now. Someone that won’t try to hurt me- or someone else. I just remembered the way that stranger’s neck jerked after that bastard socked her so hard. How much blood sprayed across the wall. How much continued leaking out of his face after it was done. I remember how… What was his name? It was a ‘J’ name. John? Joseph. I remember how Joseph looked at me. I hope he doesn’t remember what I look like. I don’t trust that guy at all. I think she did, but I really hope Isabelle told him off about his blatant assault. He should be arrested. That was insane. Two bloodthirsty freaks today, which is two more than I’ve ever needed, and at least one of them has it out for me. As for Joseph, I’m just gonna hope he’s forgotten my name already. Crap, that’s right, Isabelle told him my name. I doubt he cared, though. He hardly acknowledged my existence. Yeah, I really hope he thought nothing of me.

“Ever?”

Shit, that’s right.

“Sorry, sorry, I’m here.”

“Do you want me to go over?”

“No.” It’s too dangerous, I want to say. “I’ll be okay. Thank you.”

“I’m sorry this is happening to you. I can’t imagine what you’re feeling right now.”

Don’t break. Don’t break right now.

“Just… please know that I’m here for you. Always will be, okay?”

I wish I could just nod and she would see that I understand, but she can’t see me right now, so I have to make a noise.

“Yeah.” It came out shuddering. “Thanks.”

One more long silence. I know it’s the last one of the call.

“Do you need me to let you go?”

“Yeah, I’m gonna lay down.”

“Okay. Rest well, Ev.”

“Thanks. Bye.”

“Bye.”