Future Threat

5

It did help, at first. The therapist convinced me to try kickboxing as a way to manage my rage and control my tendency to punch first and think later. She explained that I was suffering from a form of post-traumatic stress disorder after what I’d been through, and my eidetic memory only made it worse. She gave me some tips for dealing with it, but could only do so much for me when I couldn’t be honest with her about why I was having the panic attacks, flashbacks, and nightmares. If I told her I’d been to the future, she’d think I was having delusions and would probably make me take all sorts of pills or something. I wasn’t doing that. And if I couldn’t talk about what had really happened, what was the point?

There are only two people in the world who can possibly understand what I’ve been through. Adam is one of them, but he’s also the last person I want to talk to about this. If he knew how messed up I was, he would leave me in an instant. And Chris? He’s moved on, as best as he can anyway. I won’t drag him back into the past.

When I don’t answer, Adam takes my hand in his. “You can talk to me, you know. About anything. Maybe I can help.”

I pull my hand out of his grasp. “You can’t fix me, Adam.”

“Of course not. Because you’re not broken.”

That’s where he’s wrong. But I’m too tired to argue, and I appreciate that he’s trying, even if I suck at showing it. I lean against him and close my eyes. “Stay tonight. Please.”

Adams’s eyebrows shoot up but without another word, he takes me into the bedroom. I slide under the covers, and he takes off his shirt and curls up against my back, his arm draped around my waist as if he can shield me while I sleep. I don’t usually let him stay over, but as much as I hate admitting it, I need him tonight.

His breathing evens out behind me, but I can’t fall asleep again. Every time I close my eyes, I see blood and pale hands and dark water. I stare at the clock beside my bed, watching the numbers tick over, minute by minute.

It wasn’t always like this. For a while, everything between us was perfect. We’d spend our long summer days after my high school graduation doing something fun, pretending we were a normal couple. Picking out furniture for my brand-new apartment. Binge-watching his favorite TV shows with his dog, Max, sprawled between us. Doing all the silly tourist things people who grew up in LA never actually do. We even scheduled our college classes this semester so we’d both have Fridays off.

But after that day at the beach, something shifted between us.

It wasn’t the same beach where I was supposed to die, of course. I still can’t go back there, or to the pier. But I wanted to prove I had moved on, and Adam knew of a spot north of Malibu that was secluded, where we could have a romantic picnic in the sand.

Bad traffic on PCH made us late, and the sun had set by time we got there. I braved it anyway, pretending I was fine, but when we passed the lifeguard tower, the memories came back in a rush. Fighting Lynne while the black waves reached toward us. The gun going off in my hand and echoing across the stars. Her body slumping down into the pale sand.

I had my first panic attack that night.

The nightmares started after that. The flashbacks got worse and worse. I started pushing Adam away, ignoring his calls and texts, declining his invitations to hang out, and was distant when we did see each other. That’s when Adam convinced me to talk to someone, and I began to spend my Fridays with the therapist. The rift between us started to heal, but it wasn’t enough. I stopped going to therapy a few weeks later.

Going to the future was supposed to fix everything—and on paper, my life probably does seem perfect. For the first time, I have money and freedom, a loving boyfriend, and a future.

The problem is me.

FRIDAY

The red numbers of the clock read 6:06 a.m. I’ve tossed and turned all night, grasping at sleep but unable to catch more than a handful of it. I might as well get up. I can hit the 7:00 a.m. kickboxing class and burn off some of this frustration.

I run the shower at a near-scalding temperature, and it washes away the lingering cold from the dream. When I’m done, Adam’s awake, tugging his shirt back on over his toned chest, his hair adorably messy. Heat flickers inside me with a rush of desire, and I’m tempted to cross the room to him, to drag him back into bed and cover him with kisses. Instead I look away, my throat tight.

“What’s your plan for today?” he asks as he grabs his glasses off the bedside table.

“Homework. Kickboxing. The usual.” I shrug. “You?”

“Working in the lab. Swimming. The usual.” He tilts his head with a tentative smile. “Hey, I have an idea. Let’s ditch all that and spend the day together doing something fun. Like we used to.”

I guess I’m not the only one with the past on my mind. “What would we do?”

“We could…go to the zoo?”

“The zoo?”

“Sure. I haven’t been there since I was a kid, and I heard there’s a new koala baby.”

I don’t answer at first. I’m not sure if it’s possible for things to go back to the way they were before, but it’d be nice to have one day where we pretend everything is normal between us. “Well, how can I say no to that?”