time, that wish came from frustration instead of loneliness.
Michael had always displayed a natural talent for getting on her nerves, the effectiveness of which she'd associated with physical things like his frustrating stares, his disapproving posture, and his occasional stubborn refusal to move when she wanted to do something fun. She'd totally underestimated the annoyance factor of a simple tone and a few poorly timed words, something Michael had turned into an art form since his…since she'd almost lost him.
In fact, now that he was a sporadic voice in her head instead of a constant presence by her side, Michael was somehow more annoying than ever. Granted, Nikki hadn't been her usual tolerant self lately. She'd be the fourth or fifth to admit she wasn't as hard to annoy as she'd once been. She just wasn't the rock of patience and acceptance she used to be. Not surprising, really.
The past four months had been the worst of Nikki's life. She used to pride herself on being strong, independent, tough enough to handle anything life could drop on her, but losing her twin had crippled her, in more ways than one.
Not only had she lost her brother, mostly, but she'd also lost the power they shared, the ability to heal and get stronger with every blow the other suffered. That power had been the root of her boundless bravado, not to mention the main shaping force in her life until now. It was easy to be confident knowing her brother could make her strong enough to wrestle a tank, easy to be brave when she knew her brother could heal any injury she sustained. Losing that power…
The feeling of vulnerability had consumed her at first, kept her curled up in her bunk, which in turn made her feel like a selfish twat, which of course made her want to stay curled up in her bunk. The guilt of missing her power was overwhelming. She hated herself for it. She should have been thinking only of Michael. All she'd lost was a crazy ability. He'd lost his life. For her.
You're doing it again. His voice broke in on her thoughts.
"No, I'm not. Shut up." The lie was weak, especially voiced to the empty rooftop. He always knew when she was about to spiral toward the dark place she'd been unable to escape that first couple of months after her rescue. He wasn't around in her head all the time, didn't always answer when she called, but every time she started to feel guilty for his death, he showed up to call her on it. Every time. How he always knew when the suffering train was about to hit was a mystery she had yet to solve.
Nik, when I'm in your head like this, I can hear what you're thinking, especially when you do it so loudly.
"Well—stop. It's none of your business what I think."
Even if it's about me?
"Especially, boob. You shouldn't listen to what other people are thinking about you."
You're listening to what I'm thinking.
"Only because you're thinking it out loud."
She enjoyed a nice long pause before he said, Wow.
"Yeah. I win."
The fact that you think so scares me, almost as much as this plan.
Raised voices preceded a man stumbling out of the club below and right into the giant bouncer working the door. Nikki perked up. This could mean it was showtime, that all her hard work had paid off—"hard work" meaning waiting on this roof for an hour. Doing nothing was hands-down the hardest work Nikki could imagine.
The bouncer righted the man with one hand and steered him around a couple of scarf-wrapped ladies on their way in. The man weaved as the ladies passed. He nearly toppled when he tried to turn to check them out, but somehow he kept his feet. The party gods were still smiling on this one.
Maybe not. Maybe they were just laughing at Nikki. This guy looked like yet another harmless false alarm.
After a few unsteady steps up the steep road in front of the club, Captain Stumbly thought better of the climb and reversed course. Going downhill to the parking tower was a lot easier than uphill to the taxi call. Probably not
Michael had always displayed a natural talent for getting on her nerves, the effectiveness of which she'd associated with physical things like his frustrating stares, his disapproving posture, and his occasional stubborn refusal to move when she wanted to do something fun. She'd totally underestimated the annoyance factor of a simple tone and a few poorly timed words, something Michael had turned into an art form since his…since she'd almost lost him.
In fact, now that he was a sporadic voice in her head instead of a constant presence by her side, Michael was somehow more annoying than ever. Granted, Nikki hadn't been her usual tolerant self lately. She'd be the fourth or fifth to admit she wasn't as hard to annoy as she'd once been. She just wasn't the rock of patience and acceptance she used to be. Not surprising, really.
The past four months had been the worst of Nikki's life. She used to pride herself on being strong, independent, tough enough to handle anything life could drop on her, but losing her twin had crippled her, in more ways than one.
Not only had she lost her brother, mostly, but she'd also lost the power they shared, the ability to heal and get stronger with every blow the other suffered. That power had been the root of her boundless bravado, not to mention the main shaping force in her life until now. It was easy to be confident knowing her brother could make her strong enough to wrestle a tank, easy to be brave when she knew her brother could heal any injury she sustained. Losing that power…
The feeling of vulnerability had consumed her at first, kept her curled up in her bunk, which in turn made her feel like a selfish twat, which of course made her want to stay curled up in her bunk. The guilt of missing her power was overwhelming. She hated herself for it. She should have been thinking only of Michael. All she'd lost was a crazy ability. He'd lost his life. For her.
You're doing it again. His voice broke in on her thoughts.
"No, I'm not. Shut up." The lie was weak, especially voiced to the empty rooftop. He always knew when she was about to spiral toward the dark place she'd been unable to escape that first couple of months after her rescue. He wasn't around in her head all the time, didn't always answer when she called, but every time she started to feel guilty for his death, he showed up to call her on it. Every time. How he always knew when the suffering train was about to hit was a mystery she had yet to solve.
Nik, when I'm in your head like this, I can hear what you're thinking, especially when you do it so loudly.
"Well—stop. It's none of your business what I think."
Even if it's about me?
"Especially, boob. You shouldn't listen to what other people are thinking about you."
You're listening to what I'm thinking.
"Only because you're thinking it out loud."
She enjoyed a nice long pause before he said, Wow.
"Yeah. I win."
The fact that you think so scares me, almost as much as this plan.
Raised voices preceded a man stumbling out of the club below and right into the giant bouncer working the door. Nikki perked up. This could mean it was showtime, that all her hard work had paid off—"hard work" meaning waiting on this roof for an hour. Doing nothing was hands-down the hardest work Nikki could imagine.
The bouncer righted the man with one hand and steered him around a couple of scarf-wrapped ladies on their way in. The man weaved as the ladies passed. He nearly toppled when he tried to turn to check them out, but somehow he kept his feet. The party gods were still smiling on this one.
Maybe not. Maybe they were just laughing at Nikki. This guy looked like yet another harmless false alarm.
After a few unsteady steps up the steep road in front of the club, Captain Stumbly thought better of the climb and reversed course. Going downhill to the parking tower was a lot easier than uphill to the taxi call. Probably not
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