"Be right there," he says lowly through our parted lips.

"Just hurry it up. I have other places to be today. I love you, honey, but you can't make a mess like this ever again," she murmurs lightly, but I can hear it.

"A mess like what?" I ask.

I hear her gasp when I ask the question.

"Just keep quiet. I'll be there in a minute," he says lowly, as if she's standing in the room with us. "Sorry," he mumbles to me.

I kiss him again as tears fill up in my eyes, and I finally give him a taste of the pain I've been feeling when the salt from my tears invades our kiss.

I whisper lightly between his lips, "I'm not."

Chapter 7.

The Truth about the Lies Devin holds my hand almost too tightly while leading me to the living area. His stride resembles an inmate's stroll down death row. I know this isn't going to work, but he's apparently convinced it will. Is she versed in hypnotherapy or something?

A lean woman stands next to the bar while talking to a tall, broad, and muscled man. They look young, not our age, but young.

Her short black hair is cut in a chic bob that rises higher in the back. She looks like a model. There's not a hair out of place, a wrinkle on the pricy attire she's wearing, or an aged place on her face.

Her long, black pencil skirt has a tiny spit in the back to offer her legs more mobility. Her white blouse is perfectly tucked into the broad waistband of the skirt, and her dangling earrings are studded with real, glistening diamonds.

I'm so out of place right now. There's no way she's his mother.

"Devin," she says affectionately as she walks over to hug him.

He lightly embraces her, and she stares at me over his shoulder. She pulls back and swallows hard as she sizes me up.

"She's a pretty girl. I can see why you were derailed," she says in a snobby tone that burns through me with condescension.

Derailed? Really?

"Play nice or I'll find someone else to do this," he cautions, his eyes admonishing her for her curt remark.

She tightens her lips while nodding to acknowledge his warning.

"I'm sorry. I just hate to see you hurting like this, son. I've been there. It's not pleasant," she says with more compassion.

Okay. So, the crazy versus normal scale has just tipped over after it got so one-sided. These people are absolute lunatics. They keep referring to me as if I'm the plague or something.

She walks over and takes my hand. I can see more pain flooding through Devin as she drags me away.

What is going on?

"So, Adisia, is it?" she asks with her condescending sweetness.

"Yeah," I murmur quietly while staring into her odd, dark blue eyes - nothing like the swirling beauties of Devin.

"We're going to have you home and feeling better in no time," she says with a doctor's tone.

She starts rubbing my hand with her fingers and studying my eyes. Her lips purse as she concentrates, though I'm not sure what she's trying to do, other than give me a hand massage. I don't feel any different in the least, just like I knew I wouldn't.

Devin walks around the other side of the couch so he can see me better as his mother continues on with her tickling massage. I actually giggle slightly.

Devin frowns at the same time she does. My shoulders hunch as I cower slightly when I feel like I've done something wrong.

"What's wrong?" he asks her.

Nothing. You're all just a bunch of crazy freaks.

"I don't know. It's not withdrawing like it should. I actually can't find it at all. Are you sure it's there?" she asks curiously.

"I'm positive. You haven't seen the way she's suffered. The tears have been continuous, and she barely leaves her apartment. The obsession is still there, even now. Look at her eyes," he whispers.

I scowl a little as I rip my hand free.

"I'm right here. I'm not obsessed. I like you. That's it. Apparently I'm some sort of freak for giving a damn about you, but that's all it is. If you think giving me a hand massage is going to keep me from liking you, then I'll save you some trouble. I'll get over you on my own like a normal human being."

I stand up, but his mother catches my hand in hers.

"I feel something, but it's different, unique - I'm not sure what it is."

"Look, I'm sorry I cried over your son, but I really don't give a rat's ass if you think I'm such a speck that I don't even deserve to grieve over losing him. The entire town has been crying. Why don't you go massage their hands and cure them of their woes? I have better things to do," I scold.

I sprint toward the elevator, and she quickly questions me.

"You said your whole town is crying? What do you mean?" she asks curiously.

"I think it's pretty self-explanatory," I grumble while pressing the button in frantic repetition.

Devin walks over and steps in front of me, and I meet his soft eyes with my threatening ones.

"Move. I'm done with this psycho charade. I don't know why you're so insistent on me being over you, but I swear I'll work desperately hard to make your dreams come true."

Finally, I sound sane again. No longer are my hormones controlling me.

The door dings, and I barge by him on my way in.

"You can't leave until I fix this," he murmurs softly while following me in.

"Watch me," I mumble.

He scoops me up, and I start screaming at the top of my lungs. His mother rolls her eyes before she glares at him.

"Put that girl down. There's no need in keeping her here. She's not infected. You were wrong son," she says in a muted, almost inaudible tone.

"You're right. I'm not fucking infected. You all are. You're all a bunch of infected psychopaths," I scream.

Her eyes widen in complete shock.

"She heard that."

"Yeah. She can hear us when we speak in our whispers. She couldn't two days ago, but she can today. She got sick for the first time in her life while I was with her. She got sick for the second time in her life while I was with her. Water boiled in her shower. She sobs inconsolably day and night. She doesn't come out of the apartment. She destroyed half the shit in her home. She told her boss she could fire her if she wanted to. She can't stop herself from being with me, and I can't stop myself from being with her. How many more signs do you need? I've got more if necessary."

"Son, enhanced hearing is not a symptom. She shouldn't ever be able to hear our whispers. This is something else entirely. Are you sure her family's not-"

She stops mid-sentence and her eyes seem to have a silent conversation with his.

"Positive. She was adopted - legally - and they are all completely-"

He stops before finishing his sentence, and his eyes speak to her.

This is infuriating.

"Well. A legal adoption does snuff out that hypothesis. I don't know what to tell you. It's possible I've missed something. Give me a minute to regroup, and I'll get back with you."

Devin releases me completely and walks to his bedroom while smearing around the exasperation cloaking his face. Ther and the man I'm assuming is Devin's father walk down the long hallway. His mother goes into the guest bathroom, leaving Kry alone with me.

"Hey. Is there anything to drink besides scotch?" I ask quietly.

"Yeah, I think so. He has an excellent selection of wine in the back."

I smile appreciatively while feigning the damsel in distress act.

"Wine would be great," I say softly.

"I'll get you some."

He jumps up, and as soon as he disappears around the corner, I walk in complete silence to the elevator. I know I have to get the doors shut quickly after it dings. They'll hear it.

I don't know who or what they are, but I'm sick of the guessing game. I'm not going to continue being anyone's captive.

The door dings, and I shoot inside and hit the lobby button over and over with my frantic fingers.

Devin flashes out of the bedroom with lightning quick speed, and I get sick when I see the craziness with my own eyes. The doors shut, and they dent in as he pounds against them a split second too late.

I scream and leap backwards, watching in disbelief as the doors start to be pulled open, but the elevator descends before he can pry his way in.

"Don't jump, son. That elevator will collapse if you do," a man's voice says from above as the elevator tries to whisk me away.

That has to be his dad. He's the only one I never heard speak.

"The stairs! Take the stairs," Devin yells.

"Watch your speed. Don't let the mortals see it," his mother says.

Oh fuck!

I stick the phone I just stole in my back pocket, and my trembling hands rifle through the stolen wallet. There's five hundred dollars in cash. That should be enough to persuade a cab to take me somewhere far away.

I shove the wallet in my other back pocket as I swallow hard against the trembling knot in my throat. I'm grateful Devin dumped his pockets on the coffee table.

The door dings, and I pull out the phone to pretend as if I'm talking on it so that I'm not approachable or suspicious. Please don't ring. Please don't ring.

"Yeah. Sounds great. Oh, you crazy girl, when did you do that?" I mock.

It works. The doorman holds the door for me and tips his hat rather than trying to engage in conversation. I turn the corner and break out into a dead sprint.

I don't see a single taxi anywhere, and I thought New York was supposed to be loaded with them. I don't have time to stand around looking either. By now, Devin isn't too far behind me.

I rush through the crowds of people littering the streets. Everyone yells profanities at me as I bump, collide, and rub against them.

I don't have time to be courteous. These people are fucking crazy, and there's something supernaturally fucked up going on.

I can feel eyes on me, and I know there's someone chasing me. I run faster, knocking people out of my way. I turn to look behind me, but I don't see anyone. When I turn back around, I hit a wall, but when I look up, I see the wall that has just knocked me on my ass is actually a man.

His face is etched with danger, and his eyes glower at me with a threatening gaze.

"Sorry," I mumble. "I wasn't looking where I was going."

"Alexius Smith?" he asks.

Really? Devin sent this man this quick?

"No. Sorry. You must be thinking of someone else," I mutter innocently.

I stand up and start walking around him in a very casual manner. As I pass him, his hand clamps around my mouth, and he swirls me into an alley.

The night has already started to descend on us, the twilight offering little promise of someone seeing me, and my screams are silenced by his hand subbing as a lid.

He throws me onto the alley ground, and the loud cars honking mask my screams that finally find a way out.

A few more join us in the alley, and I can tell they're with him by their snarling sounds and dangerous eyes.

"Please don't do this," I cry. "I promise I won't say anything about what I saw."

"What did you see?" the guy asks curiously.

"Nothing. I swear. I didn't see anything," I cry louder.

He smirks as he picks me up by my throat and launches me across the alley into the back wall. I thud off of it and collapse to the ground, my bones crunching, the air leaving my lungs, and the tang of blood filling my mouth.