Page 18 of A Stop in Time
A fraction of a second passes before he lowers his voice and allows the menace to drip from each word. “Don’t consider betraying me again, Mackenzie.”
That scene blurs into another one where I’m washing my hands in a sink, bloodred water swirling at the drain. Bone-deep satisfaction courses through me, however, without an ounce of regret. I feel as if I’ve achieved something great. An accolade, of sorts.
“You’re all mine, Mackenzie. All mine.” The man’s words repeat in my mind, taunting me. The threatening quality in his voice is jarring, acting like two enormous cymbals crashing together inside my head. It has me jerking in my seat, abruptly snapping me to the present, and I scramble to regain my whereabouts.
With shaky hands, I tear off the headphones while my heart gallops in my chest. I press a hand over it, willing it to calm as my mind reels from what I uncovered.
That man’s voice…it was familiar to me. He called me Mackenzie, not Mac. He punished me and his possessiveness felt suffocating. Each of my memories where I remember hiding something, it was so he wouldn’t find it.
I can’t for the life of me picture his face, but his voice elicits a visceral fear so potent it has the tiny hairs along my arms standing on end.
Evidently, I was the victim of domestic abuse. I suffered such atrocities by his hands that my mind blocked the memories to protect me. To help me move on.
With a slow exhale, I stare at the screen for a long moment, the time counter at the bottom of the video display showing it’s played the full thirteen minutes.
My fear from the man’s mere presence and how much pain he inflicted on me was so palpable, it still courses through my veins.
Lifting my gaze, I glance around the library, half expecting the man in my flashes of memory to be here. When I don’t spot anyone aside from the three guys on computers and Karine—each of them still immobile—I force my breathing to steady.
I’d wanted answers, and now I have a better picture of what my life was like before. Before I realize it, my fingers are moving along the keyboard, and a second later, I’m staring at another set of search results. Actual medical studies intermix with some articles citing individuals’ testimonies.
Trauma can trigger psychic abilities…
Many abuse victims assert that their experiences incited something within them which enabled them to tap into unique abilities, such as telekinesis and precognition, among others.
My mind whirls as I sit back in my chair and drop my hands to my lap. Is that what brought on my ability? Surely, if I’d had it when I was with him, I would’ve used it to escape that nightmare of a relationship. It only makes sense that the abuse I suffered triggered something deep within me somehow.
Pressing my thumb and finger together again, I unpause time. The library’s lights immediately flick on and everything returns to the way it was. My eyes track the subtle movements from the three guys, their fingers either moving over the keyboard or navigating their computer mouse, while Karine resumes reshelving books.
Turning my palms upward in my lap, I stare down at them, curling my fingers inward to lightly drag the pad of my thumb over the tip of my index finger.
I know my ability isn’t triggered every time I touch my thumb and index finger together. It’s only when I have the intent to stop time. Not only that, but if I touch something mechanical or electrical with purpose, I can disengage it from its paused state.
Two years ago, I discovered my ability by accident in the Freebird one night when Randy had been exhibiting his full force of assholery toward me. It’d been one of those, “If only I had an escape like Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz” moments.
Something had compelled me to press my thumb and finger together, wishing like hell I could stop the shitshow altogether, and it had worked.
It had also scared the fuck out of me…and then some.
It wasn’t until I experimented with my ability inside my garage that I realized I could affect mechanical or electrical items if I chose to. That’s when I knew I was a freak. That I wasn’t normal.
I knew under no circumstances could I ever reveal my ability to anyone. Guaranteed, I’d be taken advantage of. I can’t run the risk of them trying to use me to stop time to enable them to rob a bank or a store. I might be an outcast and kind of bitchy, but I do have morals and integrity.
“Don’t consider betraying me again, Mackenzie.”
Fuck, that man’s voice… The pit of my stomach maws open at the thought of trying to regain more of my past memories. Deep down, though, I want to know that man’s no longer a threat to me. That I left him far behind.
A tiny thread of an inner voice warns me I might not like what I’ll find.
That part of me is terrified to discover that I not only left him far behind...but also six feet under.
13
MAC
Thursday
“In here on a Thursday, huh?” Benny pours me two fingers of whiskey neat while raising a brow at me.