Echo Prophecy Page 6

  “Mike, wait,” she demanded. She turned her head away and made an effort to push him back.

  He ignored her, using both hands to raise the skirt of her dress and pull down her black lace boy shorts.

  “No! Stop, Mike!” she repeated, her protests growing shrill as Mike became more forceful.

  I couldn’t stand it anymore. I lurched forward, intending to push him away from her, but I bounced off an invisible barrier. “STOP!” I shouted. “LEAVE HER ALONE!”

  Mike glanced at the couch, then shoved the other version of me into the living room.

  She screamed, tripping on the underwear tangled around her ankles. As she fell to the floor, her head smashed against the corner of the steamer trunk coffee table. Within seconds, she was still.

  Mike stared down at her, mouth hanging open in shock, and the front door crashed open.

  I lurched to a sitting position and immediately felt nauseated. It was just a dream, just a regular, meaningless dream. But I couldn’t get over the way it had felt, like a memory … like the others. But how could it be real? Mike wouldn’t—

  Before I could dwell further, there was a knock at the door. Cara and Annie had arrived. Still a little shaken, I quickly finger-combed my hair and stretched before letting my friends in.

  “We brought wine!” Cara exclaimed, hugging three beautiful bottles of the nerve-calming libation.

  “And cheese!” Annie sang immediately after her. She offered up a canvas shopping bag filled with cheeses and, knowing her penchant for decadence, some other tasty goodies.

  “Amazing! Splendid! Genius!” I said, bowing as I showered them with praises.

  “I wasn’t sure how much we’d need,” Cara said, using a corkscrew to point at the bottles lined up on the counter.

  Without hesitation, I replied, “Probably all of them.”

  After laying a half-dozen varieties of cheese along with strawberries, sliced apples and pears, crackers, and olives out on the coffee table like an offering to the divine, we settled in the living room with glasses full of wine. My friends perched on the couch, and I settled on a floor cushion on the opposite side of our little feast. Taking frequent sips of wine, I listened to their soothing, inane chatter. It was nice to be surrounded by silliness for a few moments.

  “So … spill,” Cara demanded, her bright blue eyes focusing on me.

  “Cara!” Annie admonished, slapping Cara’s leg. “She’ll tell us when she’s ready.”

  “No, it’s fine,” I said. “Good news, or bad news first?”

  “Um … bad,” Cara said, doing her best to contain her curiosity and appear supportive.

  “So, it all started with my mom’s surprise visit …” I began. It was surprisingly easy to tell them the story of my mysterious paternity. However, though I tried, I couldn’t bring myself to spill about the too-real dreams. I ended my enormously long monologue with the good news—a replay of the ride home with Mike and the resulting planned date. “But, I’m not really sure about it,” I said, feeling my eyebrows draw together.

  “Why?” Annie asked.

  “Yeah, why? If he’s such a stud, why would you possibly consider backing out?” Cara asked, clearly confounded.

  Blushing, I shook my head. “Well, it’s weird. I, um, took a nap this afternoon and the dream I had was just”—I shivered—“unnerving.”

  “And why would that change your mind about going out with Studly Martinez?” Cara asked, emptying the remaining contents of the first wine bottle into her glass.

  “Hernandez,” Annie corrected.

  “Whatever. You know what I mean.”

  I rolled my eyes and took a deep breath before explaining. “In the dream, Mike came back here with me after the party and … and he sort of tried to force me to have sex. I mean, I wanted to … I think … or at least at first I did, but not like that.”

  Cara held up her hand like a traffic officer. “Wait. He dream-raped you?”

  “No … at least, not all the way. I woke up before it was over,” I said and let my friends ponder the information for a few seconds.

  “Kinky!” Cara exclaimed.

  “Cara, you’re horrible!” Annie accused, glaring at the blonde sitting beside her. “It’s creepy, not kinky!”

  “What? It was a dream. As in, not real. Come on, Lex. You have to go out with him. You haven’t been on a decent date in at least six months. You’re just nervous. When was the last time you even had sex?” Cara asked, crass as usual.

  “A while,” I mumbled, hiding behind my hands. She’s probably right—it was just a dream, and I am nervous.

  When I lowered my hands, I found Annie and Cara studying me with identical expressions: eyebrows raised and mouths pinched. I immediately burst into giggles, and upon seeing each other, they joined me.

  As soon as the laughter died down, I expressed one of my several anxieties about the impending date. Anxieties, I told myself, not excuses. “I don’t have anything to wear, and I can’t really afford to splurge on a new dress,” I said, moping.

  “Oh my God, shut up! You are so ridiculous! I have the perfect dress,” Cara said, bouncing on the couch again. “I haven’t actually worn it yet, so you cannot get anything on it. But, because I love you so much, I’ll let you borrow it.”

  “Oh!” clapped Annie. “And I can come over and get you fixed up. You are not going on a date to a fancy New Year’s Eve party with a ponytail!” She waggled her finger at me sternly.

  “Okay, okay,” I said, holding up my hands in submission.

  “Good!” they exclaimed and began plotting and laughing and hiccupping. The night went downhill from there.

  ***

  “Okay, you’re done,” Annie stated, finally allowing me access to the full-length mirror hanging on the back of my bedroom door.

  I examined her handiwork, noting the classiness of the loose, low bun. “Annie, you’re a genius!”

  She blushed and shrugged, gathering her various salon-grade tools into a bag with seemingly infinite compartments. I had just experienced one of the very amazing perks of having a hair stylist as one of my closest friends.

  Finished packing up, Annie studied me. “Hair, check. Makeup, check. Nails, check,” she said, accenting each statement with a flick of her raised finger. “You, my dear, are ready to get dressed.”

  I unzipped the garment bag hanging on the closet door. “Are you sure it’s not too much? What if I’m overdressed?”

  “Better overdressed than under,” she said.

  I removed a silky black dress from the hanger and unzipped the back. “If you say so,” I muttered. I stepped into the dress and let Annie zip it up, glad my bruises from the collision with Dr. Ramirez had healed in a matter of days. At least I didn’t have to cover the ugly marks with tights. When I turned to face the mirror, my heart nearly stopped.

  I was wearing the dress, the same one I’d been wearing in the nightmare. This can’t be happening, I thought, terrified by the beautiful dress. It was simplicity at its best, with thin straps crisscrossing my back and flowing black silk draping over my hips and reaching just past my knees. It fit snugly around my chest and waist, emphasizing my slender curves. Against the inky fabric, my skin looked like smooth, flawless alabaster.

  “Oh, wow,” Annie said in a hushed tone. “Maybe you should just buy it from Cara. It looks amazing on you.”

  When I didn’t respond, she studied the reflection of my face. It had blanched from creamy alabaster to bone-white. “Lex? Are you okay? You’re shaking. Sit down.” She guided me to the edge of the bed.

  “I’m fine,” I responded hollowly. It’s just a dress … a common, black dress. This whole thing is a stupid coincidence. “I just haven’t eaten much today. I think I’ll make some toast.” I stood and hurried from the room, shrugging into a light robe to keep the dress clean … and to hide it.

  A few minutes later, Annie emerged from my bedroom carrying her bag and some strappy silver heels. “You have to wear these. I
found them buried in the back of your closet.” She placed the shoes on the table.

  “Those? I don’t know if I can even walk in those!”

  “Then you’ll just have to lean on Mike,” she suggested, her face slack with mock innocence. Having been in the same relationship for nearly six years, Annie liked to date vicariously through her friends. Usually she was limited to Cara, whose love life was both varied and active, but for once, I was included.

  I snorted and buttered the toast.

  “I should go. Mike’ll be here any minute, and I don’t want to get in the way,” Annie said, raising her eyebrows suggestively.

  “Come on, Annie, it’s the first date. We’ll at least go to the party first!”

  She fixed an unusually stern gaze on me. “Fine, but don’t be a nun. You need this.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” I gave her a quick hug and thanked her for all her help, and then she was gone.

  I finished the toast quickly and was in the process of strapping on one of the silver death traps when there was a knock at the door. “Be there in a sec!” I called, trying to keep my balance as I strapped on the other shoe.

  Dropping my robe off in the bedroom, I took a quick peek in the mirror to make sure everything was still in place, frowned at the dress one last time, and hurried to open the door.

  “Hi!” I said, a little breathless.

  For several seconds, Mike just stared, his eyes wide and childlike before crinkling with a smile. He looked quite handsome in a black suit with a blue tie, and I was relieved it wasn’t a metallic blue tie like he’d worn in the dream. It was just a dream, I reminded myself again.

  “You look gorgeous,” he said.

  “Thanks,” I replied with a slight shrug. “You look nice too. Do you want to come in?”

  “Well, we should probably go. We’re already late. My fault,” he said, holding out his arm.

  Slightly relieved, I smiled. Part of me was convinced that if I let him into my apartment, the horrible nightmare would play out, but if I kept him out …

  “Let me grab my coat real quick.” I plucked my favorite coat—a nearly knee-length, plum-colored pea coat—out of the pint-sized coat closet, grabbed my keys and handbag, and locked the door on my way out.

  ***

  Nearly four hours and way too much Champagne later, we broke apart from a very enthusiastic New Year’s kiss. Mike had been a charming gentleman all evening, and the wine had settled my unnecessarily jumpy nerves. Caught up in the excitement of the holiday, I was on the verge of pulling Studly Hernandez into the nearest coat closet for a little seven minutes in heaven. Perhaps being on a date with someone from my high school was making me feel a little bit like a teenager again.

  Luckily, Mike was way ahead of me. He leaned closer, bringing his lips to my ear. “So, is that offer to come into your apartment still open?” My eyes wandered to the back of his neck, mere inches away. Because he was a few inches taller than me, I could just barely see the edge of a black tattoo peeking above his collar.

  “Absolutely,” I said, smiling. Though I was twenty-four and had slept with several different men, I’d yet to have a very enjoyable experience. If that kiss was any indication of Mike’s bedroom manner, my luck was about to change.

  “Great, let’s get out of here,” he said, capturing my hand and leading the way. We gathered my coat, hopped into his Audi, and arrived at my apartment in record time.

  While I was attempting to unlock my apartment door, Mike was occupying himself by using his lips to do pleasant things to my neck and shoulders. A nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach—a sensation that I was forgetting something important—was washed away by twin torrents of desire and drunkenness. It was so bad that I couldn’t focus on the lock long enough to slip the key in.

  Mike chuckled against my shoulder, making me shiver, and said, “Here, allow me.” He ran his right hand down my arm until he held the keys. The door was open in seconds, and laughing, we stumbled inside.

  I giggled as Mike backed me against the wide, polished wooden post that separated the kitchen from the living room. Oddly, I couldn’t remember walking the ten steps from the door to the post.

  Mike kissed me hungrily, pressing his whole body against mine and running his hands up and down my sides. I twined my fingers in his soft, black hair to anchor my swaying body. How did we get here?

  Mike’s hands became greedy, grabbing at my breasts and hips and butt a little too roughly, but my wine-muddled mind couldn’t hold onto any thought long enough to care.

  “God, I want you, Lex. Can you feel it?” He groaned, grinding his hips harder against me. His erection jabbed against my hip bone. “Can you feel how hard you made me?” After another groan, he breathed, “I’ll come so hard for you.”

  As I felt one of his hands slip up my dress, the world suddenly became liquid. It seemed to heave and dip randomly, like the swells of a stormy sea. It was nauseating.

  I heard the clink of metal and looked down to see several identical belt buckles being undone. “Wait … wait,” I whispered, trying to push his groping hand away. It had made it past my lacey underwear, and his fingers were rubbing some area that wasn’t the least bit pleasurable. This is wrong. “I’m dizzy. I don’t feel—”

  “No, it’s good. You’re so beautiful,” Mike interrupted. He continued his misdirected rubbing of my groin while he used his free hand to lower the zipper on his pants. Fumbling with his boxers, he exposed himself.

  “Mike, wait,” I said more forcefully. On the verge of vomiting, I turned my head away and made an effort to push him back. He didn’t budge.

  With both hands, he raised my dress and pulled down my underwear. Nausea and panic battled for control inside me. I have to get away. Why won’t the world hold still? Why won’t he stop? What’s happening?

  “No! Stop, Mike, please!” I yelled, but he only pulled his pants down further. “Please, Mike, no!” I said, my voice shrill. I squeezed my legs together as he tried to wedge himself between them.

  “Mike, stop!”

  He pressed against me, his erection pushing between my thighs.

  “Easier on the couch,” he muttered, his words barely audible. Without warning, he pulled away and shoved me into the living room.

  I screamed, tripping on the underwear tangled around my ankles. My head hit the corner of the coffee table. The last thing I heard was the apartment door crashing open.

  This can’t be real.

  Blackness.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Explanations & Omissions

  I opened my eyes, only to be blinded by bright, florescent light. I yearned for the glorious golden fire that had been in my dreams. It had been beautiful and soothing, nothing like the awful luminescence currently boring through my eyeballs into my brain. From all directions, beeps and hums and voices pounded against my head like jackhammers. Squeezing my eyes shut, I attempted to cover my ears with my hands, but I couldn’t seem to move my arms. I moaned, or possibly grunted.

  “Hey … guys, she’s awake,” a familiar voice murmured.

  My inability to move my arms was making me panic, and I started to squirm from side to side.

  “Lex, it’s okay. Lex … it’s Annie and Cara. You’re okay,” Annie stated calmly as she pressed her arm across my shoulders to hold me down. It didn’t take much effort on her part—I was weak and groggy.

  I opened my eyes and was instantly caught in her warm, earnest gaze. “Rick, can you get a nurse?” she asked her longtime boyfriend, not looking away from me.

  “Lex?” Cara poked her head around Annie’s shoulder. “Do you know who we are? We won’t hurt you. I … I’m so sorry!” She burst into tears, collapsing over my stomach and splaying her unusually limp blonde hair over the bed.

  I tried to pat her head, but my damn arms were tucked under the blankets. “My … arms,” I whispered.

  “Cara, get up. She wants to be able to move,” Annie said briskly.

  Cara sat up and wiped
her eyes. “Oh. Sorry.”

  Gently, Annie withdrew each of my arms from its cotton prison and rested it on top of the thin, blue blanket. “There. Is that better?”

  I smiled at her and nodded. “Thanks. And I do know who you are.” I paused, trying to remember how I’d ended up in the world’s brightest hospital. “What happened? How long have I been here? And why do I have the mother of all headaches?”

  My two best friends exchanged worried glances, and then looked down at the thin hospital blanket.

  Unease swelled in my chest. “Guys?”

  “You came in early this morning,” Annie said slowly. Glancing at the clock on the opposite wall, she added, “It’s almost midnight, now.”

  “I see our patient is awake,” a plump nurse chirped from the doorway. Rick entered the room behind her, offering me a little wave.

  “Um … yeah?”

  “Alexandra—”

  “Lex,” Cara interrupted, frowning. “We told you—her name is Lex.”

  The nurse scowled at Cara for a moment, but turned an indulgent look on me. “Lex, we need to talk to you about some personal medical matters. Your friends will need to leave when the doctor arrives.” She looked at the door as it opened again and admitted a pretty, petite woman wearing a white lab coat. “Ah … here she is now. Time to go, friends of Lex.” The nurse said my name as if acquiescing to a completely ridiculous whim.

  Cara, Annie, and Rick vacated the room, but not without scornful looks at the nurse. Apparently they hadn’t formed the best relationship while I’d been unconscious. Before shutting the door, Annie said, “We’ll be right outside if you need us, okay, Lex?”

  I nodded at her, grateful for her steady support.

  “Thank you, Nurse Roctenberg, but I can handle it from here,” the doctor said, dismissing the nurse.

  Bristling, Nurse Roctenberg also left the room.

  “Ms. Larson, the police would like to speak with you when we’re done. For a statement about the assault,” the doctor told me. I couldn’t get over how attractive she was—of Mid-eastern descent, she had chocolate-brown, almond-shaped eyes, smooth, symmetrical features, and perfect, bronze skin. She was by far the prettiest doctor I’d ever met.