Page 223 of Awakened

The Dr sighs, pressing his lips into a grim line. “Such as entire neighborhoods reporting that their lights flickered off and on for hours in a distinct, identical pattern. Or a small town of around three hundred who claim they all had the same dream on the same night. Animals behaving erratically, tidal surges, the list goes on. More than three-quarters of these smaller disturbances are occurring East of the Mississippi. More specifically, on the coast near the southern parts of Maine, New Hampshire, Massachusetts… all the way down into Northern Delaware.”

I don’t realize my hands are shaking until Caelan wraps his hands around my waist and lifts me onto his lap.

Fates, it’s so hot in here.

My forehead is damp with sweat. My skin feels tight, like I soaked in chlorine for hours and didn't rinse it off.

“So you’re suggesting these incidents aren’t random,” the news anchor presses, and the Doctor barks a laugh that sounds half-crazed.

“Of course they’re not random,” he scoffs. “Have you been listening to a word I’ve said? They’re taking place on the Ley lines. Furthermore, the Eastern United States—especially New England—is absolutely inundated with small-scale events.”

“So what exactly are you trying to say, Doctor?”

“Oh my gosh, this lady is the worst,” I growl, irritation and discomfort getting the best of me.

“It’s like she’s trying to piss him off,” Dax agrees.

“She’s baiting him. She wants him to get angry,” I nod, swiping the back of my hand across my forehead and absentmindedly wiping my hand on my shirt.

Daxen snaps his fingers. “Damn, I didn’t even see it, but you’re right. She’s trying to discredit him.” His eyes narrow on the screen, where the Doctor is rubbing his temples and taking deep, even breaths.

“Oh for the love of Pete!” The Doctor turns, pointing a shaking finger at one of his maps. “Look, here. See? This is the epicenter. The question we should be asking ourselves is no longer whether or not something larger is coming. The question is when it’s coming.”

He turns back around to face the camera. “Listen very carefully. My grandmother used to say, there’s no forcing the toothpaste back in the tube once it’s been squeezed out. Well, mark my words, Kelly. The world? We’re the tube of toothpaste. And someone—or something—has our planet in its grip and is squeezing for all they’re worth.”

The news anchor, who must be Kelly, looks stunned. She stares straight into the camera with wide, unblinking eyes.

“Thank you, Doctor Wilder, for your time as well as that… er… graphic warning.”

The split screen disappears, taking the doctor with it.

“Alright,” Caelan declares, leaning over and snatching the remote. He points it at the screen and presses the power button aggressively until the television finally clicks off.

It doesn’t really matter, though. I can still hear the doctor’s words in my head⁠—

Eastern United States.

The epicenter.

Not if. When.

My chest constricts. There’s not enough air in the room.

Daxen’s right.

And if he was right about the Ley lines, there’s a high probability that he’s right about this, too. Which means… all of this is my fault.

All of it.

I can touch fire without burning. I can make the Earth move. The beams in the attic shattered because I couldn’t control my emotions. The fire, the wind—I can make them do things with my mind.

I left my father’s house, and now storms are ripping cities apart, and animals are dropping dead for no reason and—and⁠—

Is this why father kept me locked away? Because I’m dangerous? Because something about me is wrong?

The television is off, but I can still see the ticker at the bottom of the black screen. An up-to-the-minute scrolling tally of my sins.

My fault, my fault, my fault.