Find your light.

Just remember that this is not how I wanted it to end. 
         
         It started in September 4 of 2008. How many nights have I spent looking back and thought about what it would be like if I hadn’t been standing right where I was when she came running through the alley? The answer: too many. I had spent countless nights running through what seemed like hundreds of alternative ways that night could’ve gone down.
         I can’t change what happened. I can’t tell you why or how it happened, or why it happened to me. The only thing I can do is tell you what happened.

         
         Chapter 1.
         
         The night in Small Point, Maine, had been cold: not freezing, but just enough to raise goose bumps on my forearms through my sweater. My footsteps crunched on the gravel as I turned into the ally. It was nearly eleven; my shift at the coffee ship had just ended and I was on my way home. I rubbed my hands together and breathed hot air into them. In about the middle of the alley I leaned against a wall and lit a cigarette. I looked down at my shoes and shivered, exhaling and blowing smoke out of my lungs.
         I don’t know what it was that compelled me to stay there for a while. But when I started walking again I remember feeling as if something was wrong: the eerie feeling that something is about to change. Not certainly for the better, but not surely for the worst. I kept my eyes glued to the ground until I heard the sound of footsteps begin behind me.
         They got louder but I didn’t turn around. Looking back, I should’ve realized that those footsteps sounded too quick, too frantic, to be normal. I sometimes wonder what it would’ve been like if I did. Because the next thing I knew I felt someone run into me and almost knock me to the ground. I heard them fall and I spun around, alarmed.
         Before me on her hands and knees was a girl. She looked up and quickly muttered an apology. She had hit me hard enough to make me realize that she had been running. It took me a second to respond and when I did I remained silent but offered her my hand, which she took.
         “What were you running from?” I asked, not knowing what else to say.
         “N-nothing. Sorry I ran into you.” She turned to go but I caught her fingers. When she felt my skin brush her fingertips she stopped.
         “Are you sure you’re alright alone? I won’t ask questions. But if you need someone to walk you to anywhere…”
         She just opened her mouth to talk when I saw her gaze brush past me and her eyes widen. “Don’t turn around,” she whispered, not taking her gaze from whatever was behind me.
         “What?”
         “Don’t. Turn. Around. Don’t even speak.”
         There was something from deep inside me that trusted her.  Her: a perfect stranger. If it were a different night, maybe a different person, I would’ve turned around. Anyone in their right mind would’ve, for Christ sake. But I didn’t.
         Instead I watched as her hands met in front of her with a muted clap. Without moving her eyes from behind me and moved her hands in such a way that seemed impossibly quick.
         “When I say three, I want you to duck.”
         “Why?”
         “One.” Her eyes stayed where they’d been the whole time, but I felt as if she was looking right at me at the same time. “Two.”
         It was at that moment that I think the world stopped spinning, or maybe the sky fell or maybe I just went completely insane, because right before her mouth moved there was an explosion of light from in between her thin fingers.
         “Three!”
         I dropped to the ground and threw my arms over my head, but it wasn’t enough to block out the noise.
         To this day I can’t get it out of my head, and I can’t find a sane way of explaining it. It was as if I could hear everything that had ever scared me: the sound of an airplane taking of. Nails across a chalkboard. Gunshots, people screaming, the long beep of a heart monitor going flat. Everything was inside my head, and I have no idea how long it went on. I felt like I could’ve lived three lifetimes before it finally died away.
         After it stopped I felt as if I were gone. I lay in the same spot and position until I felt a hand on my back on my neck.
         “You ok?” It was the girl again: the nameless girl.
         “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine,” I stuttered and pushed myself upright. For a few seconds we just stood there in the ally. Now when I looked at her I started to notice things about her: her hair was red. A natural, fiery red that fell in loose waves to the middle of her arms. Her eyes looked gray, like storm clouds. I looked right into them and asked, “what the hell just happened?”
         “I need you to do something for me.”
         “Why should I?”
         “Because I just saved your life, idiot.”
         “Did you? Or was that just me going crazy?” I ran my fingers through my hair nervously.
         “Listen to me. I can give you answers at the same time you help me. Please.” She placed her hand on my arm. I tensed, thinking of what I had seen (did I see it?) come out of her hands. She sighed and pulled away and pulled out a little book. Out of the back of it she pulled a piece of paper and slipped it onto the top.
         “What is that?” I asked, taking the book.
         “Something that should’ve never been made. Listen to me-“
         “Chase.”
         “What?”
         “Call me Chase.”
         “Okay, Chase. I need you to take this book. Don’t open it; don’t tell anyone you have it. Don’t even think about it. I want you to take it and burn it. That piece of paper will answer some of your questions. But you have to promise me that you will never tell anyone what happened tonight.”
         At first I was thrown aback at the fact that she had no emotion on her heart shaped face. I handled the book in my hands and nodded numbly. It looked at if someone had lifted a brick off her shoulders. She broke into a thin painful looking smile. “Thank you.”
         “Oh, and Chase?”
         I looked down at her.
         “Forget my face.”
         She turned and began walking away. I stood there for a second before turning around. But by the time I did, it was too late: she was gone. I was alone. The book seemed to weigh a thousand pounds.
         It was a while before I could remember how to make my legs carry me home again.

         By the time I got home it was almost one. Truthfully, I’m not sure where all the time went. My fingers were numb with cold and my hand bleeding: I must’ve landed on some glass when I was on the ground. If it weren’t for the book in my hands I would’ve thought that someone had drugged me. Or that I was insane. But the cold leather cover reminded me that this had really happened.
         I slipped it into a shoebox and put it in the bottom of my closet. I closed the door. Locked it: something made me uneasy about just knowing that it was this close to me. The paper made a crinkling noise that reminded me that I was still clenching it in my fist. I turned on the kitchen light and got a glass of water.
         The paper was old and had obviously been in her pocket for a long time. I opened it up and smoothed out the paper on the table.
         If you’re reading this then it means one of two things.
1.)          I’ve been killed and you have somehow wound up with this book. If so, then I’m sorry.
2.)          I have given you the book. In which case, follow these instructions exactly: don’t open the book, don’t even read the first page. Take the book as soon as you can and burn it. And then forget me and what happened.

         I did promise answers, so here they are. My name is Aberdeen. I’m 16. I was 14 when I came across Görme Kitap (Book of seeing.) The only thing you need to know is that book is evil. No, not evil, but… something else. It’s otherworldly. And not in a good way. Please, please, do not, and I mean do not open that book.
         There’s noting more I should tell you. Forget what happened. Forget me. Forget everything and move on with your life.
         xx, Aberdeen.

         I ignored my alarm in the morning and slept straight up until my phone started ringing. In a half asleep daze I grabbed it off my nightstand and put it to my ear.
         “Hello?”
         “Hey, Babe. What’s up? I tried texting you like three times.” I heard my girlfriend, Rae’s, voice through the speakers.
         “I’ve been asleep.”
         “Oh! I’m sorry. Want me to let you go?”
         I sat up and ran my fingers through my hair, remembering vaguely that I had made plans to go get coffee with her at two. It was nearly one. “Yeah, I need to shower. We still on for two?”
         “Yeah.”
         “Alright. See ya then.”
         “Ok, love you.”
         “Love you too.” I hung up and swung my legs out of bed. I crossed the small room and tried to yank open my closet before remembering that it was locked. The book was still inside the shoebox and nothing had changed. By this time I had started to believe that somebody at the coffee shop must’ve spiked my drink and sent this girl to play a prank on me. Easy enough, right?

         I ran my fingers down her spine, tracing the curve of her hipbone. Rae’s eyes seemed to burrow into my soul. The way she looked that night in the moonlight was ravishing; I don’t think I’ll ever forget it.
         Her hair had started to grow out from it’s usual pixie and flowed to her neck in soft bleached waves. I know she hated it, and I knew she’d cut it as soon as she could. But right then, sitting on the hood of my car, she was by far the most precious and stunning thing I had ever seen. Maybe it was the cool air blowing straight through our flimsy jackets or maybe it was the stars, but something about that evening was so perfect that it was almost unholy.          
         I still remember the day I’d met Rae. I had just moved to town a few weeks earlier and had been at work, busing tables and taking orders. I don’t remember her coming in but I do remember looking down to take her order and my words come stumbling out.
         “Hello Miss, my name’s Chase, I’ll be your waiter today. May I take your number?”
         Her eyes flashed up to me and she covered her mouth with her hand and laughed.
         “I’m sorry! I meant your order, I want your order,” I stuttered, trying to take out my pen but instead dropping in on the ground. I bent to pick it up, my words still avalanching out. “I mean, I wouldn’t mind getting your number, unless that’s too weird because I’d get that.” I stood up, blood rushing to my cheeks and took her order before walking to the back and running straight into the chef.
         “Chase, son, what was that?”
         “I don’t want to talk about it,” I said, laughing and clipping the little piece of paper over his board.
         “’May I take your number?’” Mark laughed and clapped me on the back.
         When she left I went to pick up the table and noticed a small piece of paper with my name on it, Not wanting Mark to see it, I slipped it into my pocket and read it later.
         In the middle of the paper was her phone number.

         I lay in bed, waiting for my mind and body to give in so I would fall back asleep. I don’t even remember what had woken me in the first place; a car outside, maybe a bad dream. It was when I rolled to my side and shivered that I saw that my window had blown open. For a second I just stared but eventually I got up, shut the window and opened my closet for another blanket. The moment I pulled the blanket out, something else came tumbling off the shelf; the book. The past week had been so hectic that I had forgotten to burn it. I lifted it up and was surprised by the pure heat radiating from the worn leather cover.
         Aberdeen’s warning about Görme Kitap rang in my ears, but something in my chest told me to ignore it. My heart pounded and my palm s began to sweat as I sat cross-legged on my bed and placed the book in front of me. For the first time since I got it I took a good long look at it. The binding was old and falling apart and random pages jutted out in places. I ran my fingers along the cover and carefully lifted it an inch. Then another. By the time I had it open my heart was beating so fast that I was afraid that I might pass out. The first page was filled with handwritten warnings. ‘Stop. Burn it now, don’t open it.’ ‘Turn back before it’s too late.’
         I would’ve laughed if I hadn’t have been so terrified. Under the lamp on my end table sat Aberdeen’s note. I took a deep breath and turned the page.
         Three things happened at once: The book became hotter than an open flame and burned me, a light erupted from the center and I screamed and fell of my bed, catching my head on the corner of my table.
         The last thing I heard before blacking out was the sound of pages rustling.

         I woke up on the floor with blood dried on my face and my hands red and pealing from the burns. For a few seconds I just lay there, staring at my ceiling fan in pain. My cat Crow was sleeping in the corner. I checked my watch; it wasn’t even six in the morning. With a groan I pulled myself up and stumbled into the bathroom. I almost cried out as I ran cold water over my scorched palms. My hands were going to be useless for a few days at least. After the half an hour I spent patching up my hands and head I walked back into my room.
         The book lay opened on my bed. Looking around my room, I noticed that all my windows had flown open and my blankets lay in a heap at the end of my bed. Shivering and dizzy, I closed all the windows and pushed the book off my bed, pulling my quilt around my aching body.
         Sleep came to me the second my head hit the pillow.

         As chance would have it my boss called to tell me that I wouldn’t be working until Tuesday because he was making some changes in the staff, and that he was training a new employee. That gave me 3 days to recover. Normally this would’ve worried me, but I was busy concentrating on the fact that I had been attacked by a book, or by the supernatural forces of a book. I had locked the book back up in the closet as soon as I could bend my fingers again.
         My friend Clark had swung by around two o’clock in the afternoon the day of the attack, pulling me from my sleep, and I hurriedly pulled clothes over my head as I stumbled to the door. I pulled it open and saw him leaning against the wall next to the door, taking the headphones out of his ears. His eyebrows went up in surprise of my appearance.
         “Chase, my God, what happened to you? You look like you got hit with a steam roller or something.” Clark walked past me and into my tiny apartment, putting his phone on my coffee table.
         My heart pounded; what was I supposed to say? ‘Oh, you know, I just got mauled by a book.’ Yeah, I’m sure that will go over well.
         “Hey, you feeling ok? You look a little white.”
         “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. I, um, had a run in with my oven. I tripped over Crow while trying to take something out of the oven.” I sat down on the couch and leaned my head against the wall behind it. Clark let out a low whistle.
         “Let me guess the rest of the story; tried to catch yourself on the oven door and hit your head on the stove?”
         Satisfied with the story I nodded and looked over at him. He took his phone off the table and told me he’d catch me later when I was feeling better. I watched him go and then curled back up on the couch to sleep.

         “Can I get a vanilla late, small, and with a straw please?
         I stared at her for a second and tried to get a grip on my head. “What?
         “Vanilla latte. Small. Straw,” the woman said hurriedly, digging in her purse for what I assumed would be her wallet. She looked familiar, as if I’d seen her before: middle aged, short, with dyed blonde hair and expensive looking clothes. I shook myself together and pulled my mind from space so I could get her order to her. When she handed me the money she muttered something I couldn’t catch and took her coffee.
         “Chase, what was that about? Marley asked, leaning against the counter.
         “Just not feeling right today.” If she replied I didn’t hear it because I pushed open the swinging doors to the kitchen and nodded at Mark, making my way over to the sink. I turned the faucet and splashed cool water onto my face and down my neck. There were no towels so I pulled my apron up and dried my face and glanced in the mirror; the cut on my face had healed and, like the burns on my hands, left behind only light shinny reminders that they had ever been there.
         When I exited the kitchen and saw Marley waiting at the cash register. She looked up and a few streaks of dark hair fell into her face; Marley was getting on in age, about 50 years old, and had worked here since I’d moved to town. Despite her age and the gray streaks in her midnight curls and the crow’s feet growing out of her gray eyes, she had the soul of a child. As I got closer she reached over and handed me a sheet of notebook paper that had been folded sloppily. I took it and felt a jolt of unexpected anticipation shoot through my body.
         “A girl came in here looking for you while you were in the kitchen. Said that it was really important that she see you right this minute. Apparently it wasn’t important enough for her to stick around. She wrote you this note though.” Marley gestured to the folded piece of paper in between my fingers.
         “What did she look like?” I asked, unfolding the paper with shaking hands.
         “Oh, real thin girl. Fiery hair and pale skin, looked to be about 16, 17 maybe. Real delicate face, you know? Almost-”
         “Heart shaped?”
         “Yeah. You know her?”
         “Yeah.” I didn’t even have to read the note; the quick, twisting handwriting and Marley’s description combined with the pounding in my chest reminded me painfully of who’d swung to pay me a visit.
         It was like the fire burned on my hands all over again: Aberdeen.
         “Chase?”
         “Yeah?” I folded the unread note and slipped it into my back pocket.
         “You look pale, maybe you should sit,” she said, reaching out to me but I faked a smile waved her away.
         “No, no, I’m fine.” I felt my lips creep up into another involuntary smile just as the bell son the door jingled. After telling Marley that I’d take this one she wondered into the kitchen and watched as the customer took a seat at the counter.
         “Hello, can I get you something?” I asked when he appeared to be settled. He – honest guess – had his hood pulled up and draped over his eyes, headphones blaring so loudly that I wasn’t surprised that my voice didn’t cut through. After a few more failed attempts I grabbed a damp washcloth from the table and began wiping down the tables.
         I sighed and glanced outside; it was beginning to storm. I could almost feel the chill finding its way into the shop through narrow cracks in the walls; too narrow to see but wide enough to feel. A list of who was working today popped into my mind: Mark, Marley, myself, and because it was Tuesday, Jamie was in. Jamie was assistant manager and if there is one thing she hates, its homeless teens in threadbare clothes loitering around the shop. Knowing she’d kick him out soon if he didn’t order, I turned around to talk to him. Surprise hitched in my throat; he was gone.
         Well, I thought, maybe he’ll find a better place.
         “Hello. Mr. Vann.” I jumped about to the moon and back because I didn’t expect the voice that came from behind me. I also didn’t expect the person talking to be the homeless looking kid.
         “Um, hey. Can I help you?”
         “How’re you hands, buddy?”
         I managed to keep my composure and told myself he must’ve seen my hands when I burned them. A smile flickered onto my face but my heart sped up, thinking of the book. “All healed up, thanks. Do I know you?”
         “Oh, no, but you will.” With a quick snap of his spidery fingers he tugged on the hood and it fell down onto narrow shoulders; a grin played across his scarred face.
         I will never forget his eyes, though. It was as if the ocean had turned a toxic neon color and had swallowed up his entire eye, pupil and all. “Uh,” I stammered, words failing to come to my lips, “I’m sure I will. Yes, of course.” I tripped over my shoelace and stumbled backwards into a table as he advanced on me, eyes fading back to a boring brown.
         His hand drifted into the air, outstretched but not reaching for me; it was just open, palm up and empty. For a brief second I wondered if maybe he wanted me to place something in it. That’s when he flashed me another creepy grin and asked me what it was like to open the book. “Lots of flames for you? Dark, dark flames, aren’t they? Seem to just, hmm, eat at your little hands.” He tilted his hand to one side and closed his fist slowly.
         That’s about when the pain began.
         Imagine someone sticking a blunt, rusty pole through your stomach and up your ribcage; that’s exactly how I felt when his hand began to close. My knees gave and I fell to the floor, my hands protecting me from the tile.
         “Sorry to do this, Mr. Vann. Chase. Can I call you Chase? Good.” He squatted down in front of me and took a look at my grimacing face. My first thought was to cry out for help, but it had occurred to me that I couldn’t possibly get a sound out of my chest. “You see, little miss Aberdeen shouldn’t be taking our toys. The Görme Kitap, parse. Oh, no, no, bad decision on her part, very bad.” His breath blew into my face.
         The door jingled and I was afraid of what would become of what innocent passerby would walk into the shop at such a bad time. But I saw something in the man’s eyes that suggested that maybe it wasn’t just a random person.
         “I was wondering when you’d come to protect your little pet,” he purred, rocking back on his heels.
         “You should leave.” I recognized the other voice with a pang of something I couldn’t quite read. Hope? Anger?
         The man laughed, throwing his head back so that his scars caught the light. He looked at me again and tightened his grip; my torso feeling like it was being compacted in between his hands. “Oh, I don’t think so. What did you think, girly? That giving the book to a beden would cleanse your pallet?” Beden: the way he spit the word out gave me the impression that it was not something to be proud of.
         “Just get out of here, if you know what’s good for you, Spencer.”
         He suddenly shot up and I saw white anger flare in his eyes. “You’re one of us, A. You always will be.” It looked like he was about to take a step when I saw light fragments reflect off the tile.
         The light grew brighter and brighter still until it shifted from being dazzling into being painful to look at. I squeezed my eyes shut but still felt the heat of the light on my neck and palms.
         “No, that’s impossible. You’re kötü, you’ve always been.” He must’ve stumbled backwards into a table because I heard a crash. There was no scream, but I had a feeling that the other man was dead when the light faded and the pain in my abdomen faded immensely. I gingerly opened my eyes and looked at him where he lay in front of me; legs sprawled out before him and his hand thrown over his eyes. A puddle of blood lay beneath his head from a trail that dripped from his eyes.
         I turned to see Aberdeen with one hand against a table, steadying herself. Her head was bowed, waves of fiery hair falling into her face as she breathed. “Um. You ok?” I asked, waiting for an answer when she held up a finger. When I got no more than that for a response I stood up, one arm crossed over my stomach and made my way over to her. “Hey. Aberdeen. That is your name, right?” Her name tasted foreign on my tongue, exotic almost.
         “Yeah,” her voice was soft and had lost close to all the confidence she had before.
         “Ok. Well, um, I don’t mean to be a nuisance, seeing as you’re hurt and all, but, uh, there is a dead guy on the floor and Marley will be out here any second…”
         “No, Spencer put them to sleep for a while. They’ll wake up in about ten minutes. Speaking of Spencer, look behind you,”
         I turned to look at the body and stuttered out a broken question upon finding the floor clean of all traces of Spencer. Aberdeen had straightened out by the time I’d returned my stunned gaze to her, though her face still had a yellowish tint. “You ok?”
         “Out of practice. It’s been a while.” I was about to say something else when she said, “get your things, we need to talk.” Aberdeen’s voice was rough and nothing like the almost angelic voice I’d heard before.
         “Its my shift, and I have plans with my girlfriend later… couldn’t this wait?”
         Aberdeen’s eyes flashed and she took a step towards me. “Oh yeah? Maybe I had plans, too, before you decided to open the book that I warned you not to open. You are lucky that I found out in time that you opened it and that I just so happened to swing by when he did, or else you’d be dead. I have my own life to get back to, so no, it cant wait. I can’t just appear whenever you get yourself into shit, Chase.” She took a deep breath and I could feel blood rising to my face. I just got told off, but it was by some 16-year-old stranger. My fists clenched.
         “You gave me the book. If it’s such a danger, why didn’t you destroy it instead of shoving the responsibility onto someone else, huh? Let someone else take your fall?”
         “I’ll explain that soon. Let’s just go.”  Aberdeen grabbed my wrist and tugged and I followed her with reluctance out the door.
         “What about Marley?” I asked.
         “I took care of it. She won’t remember you even coming in today; you didn’t have work today, remember?”
         I caught on and nodded, then took out my phone and texted Rae.
         Something came up, going to have to cancel on you. Sorry, love you.
         After sliding my phone into my pocket we turned the corner into the alley where I’d met Aberdeen. She didn’t seem to notice so I looked at her and asked if she remembered it. She said no and I let it go.
         By the time we got to my apartment Aberdeen was glancing around nervously while I dug the keys from my pocket. After a few seconds she impatiently shoved me aside and touched the lock with her finger; it made the familiar clocking noise and swung open. She caught a glance at the look on my face and sneered.
         “Oh, now you’re impressed. I can kill without touching and alter people’s memories, but when I unlock your front door it’s the best thing since sliced bread…” she trailed off and looked around. Before I could respond she had already closed my door behind us and was said, “how long ago did you open the book?”
         “Who said I opened it?” I crossed my arms across my chest.
         “Damn-it, Chase, I know you did. Otherwise I wouldn’t be here.”
         “How do you know?”
         “Because I can sense it. And for the record, so can people like Spencer,” Aberdeen’s eyes flashed; I could tell by her stance that she was about ready to snap.
         “Ok, ok. It was about a month ago,”
         “How do you feel? Any headaches? Strange white or black patches in your vision?”
         “Um, no, why?”
         “Have you randomly blacked out? Any fevers?”
         “No, I’m completely fine. What’s this all about?” I plopped down on my creaky couch and moved a pillow so she had space to sit. Instead she began pacing.
         “Okay, good. This mean’s that you haven’t turned yet.”
         “Turned?” What was this, Twilight?
         “There’s no sure word for it… the book gives you powers to some extent.”
         “Like what you have?”
         Aberdeen nodded and sat down next to me. I could almost feel the vibes of exhaustion radiating from her body; whatever she did at the café really took it out of her. She closed her eyes and leaned her head against the wall, deep in thought. Most of the time I would’ve been asking all sorts of questions, but honestly… I didn’t know what to ask.
         “So when I ‘turn’, what exactly will happen?” I asked gingerly.
         She sighed. “One of three things: you’ll either get really sick, you’ll die, or nothing will happen.”
         Wow, way to be blunt, I thought. I clapped my hands together in front of me. “Right. So how and when will I find out which? I’d like to do a few things before I die.”
         “There’s no way to find out for sure. I can jump start it, but…”
         “But what? That sounds like a great idea.”
         “You’d think anything was a great idea if you might die. You just want to get this all over with, because that’s who you are.”
         “Whoa there, Girly, let’s get something straight before you jumpstart my book powers. You don’t know me,” I said, laughing. But when I turned to look at her she gave me a tiresome look and sighed.
         “You’re name is Chase Sebastian Vann. You have a girlfriend whom you’re very close to and not many other close friends. You didn’t exactly run away from home, but you are running, or were, running. When it comes to dying you’re much to eager to get it over with; not reckless, no, but not the most careful boy I’ve ever met. Yo-”
         I threw my hands up in a defensive gesture and stood up. “Okay, chill. Does the book give you mind reading powers or what?” A bark of a laugh escaped my throat. Aberdeen just shook her head and stood.
         “No, not at all. You’re just easy to read.” Before I could defend myself she smirked and reached out her hand as she stood up. “Now I want you to stand very still and close your eyes.” I did as I was told and sensed her fingers hover near my forehead. Her voice was barely audible when she spoke next. “Under no circumstances are you to open your eyes. This may hurt, or you may feel next to nothing. But no matter what do not open your eyes.”
         I nodded and felt my shoulders go stiff as Aberdeen’s fingertips brushed the hair from my forehead. Next she laid her palm against my forehead and breathed out. She asked me to try and think of something pleasant but before I could conjure up any good memories something else began rising within me.
         Suddenly I felt hot. Not a warm summer’s day hot but an unbearable scorching hot that reminded me of when I first had opened the book. I felt my chest become hot and constrict and Aberdeen’s words hung in my heart: “You’ll either get really sick, you’ll die, or nothing will happen.” It struck me rather sharply that I could die here. My head began to spin as the heat raced through my body. I felt myself get week at the knees and for a few prideful seconds managed to fight it and hold myself upright before falling to my knees; I used my arms as support so that I wouldn’t face-plant into my carpet. For the second time that day I was trying not to fall to the ground in agony.
         For a brief moment my head got so light that I was afraid that I might actually pass out, but just as I reached the point of darkness the heat began to fade. Slowly, painfully, it retreated back to where it had started; the spot on my forehead where Aberdeen had laid her palm. I heard Aberdeen’s voice drift into my ears and it occurred to me that she had been talking for a few minutes,
         “Can you hear me? Shit. Chase, you can open your eyes now. Chase? Just say something.”
         “Yeah,” I croaked, struggling to my feet and leaning against my wall for support.
         “How do you feel?” she asked anxiously.
         “Like I was just dropped into a deep fryer.” I managed a small hoarse laugh at the end.  Aberdeen’s eyebrows knit together and she pushed me down onto the couch and muttered something about getting me something to drink. I leaned my head against the wall behind my couch and tried to settle my breathing a little before she returned.