Camilla

Being knocked out is very much different from falling asleep. Sleep is like diving into your mind, seeing with closed eyes, walking without moving. Sleep is filled with dreams, and dreams are filled with wants. Dreams are filled with nightmares, and dreams are filled with memories. Sometimes I like sleeping, I let go of my worries and rest. Sometimes I hate sleeping, for my nightmares aren't kind to me. My nightmares also seem to just be twisted memories, terrors I’ve seen in the waking world, come alive once again inside my mind.

Sleeping is a thing I can have opinions on, and I have a lot of opinions, but being knocked out is entirely different. You don't dream when you are forced unconscious. It feels a lot like closing your eyes, and opening them again hours later. It's a blackout, without any alcohol in my veins, only a strong headache from where I was hit.

It takes me precious seconds to remember that I was hit, and along with that memory comes all the ones with Erika, Aiden and me pinned against a brick wall. I shoot up from where I was laying and looks around, only to realize that I have truly been kidnapped.

I am sitting on a bed inside a claustrophobic wooden room. I am not a claustrophobic person, I am properly the opposite, since I am a bit frightened by big, open spaces, but this room feels too small to me a normal room. The thought that it might be a basement crosses my mind briefly, but I push it aside quickly due to the four windows where my only light comes from.

I get up on wobbly legs and look out one of the windows, suspecting to see the streets of Copenhagen outside. I don't. I don't see those familiar streets or any streets at all. I see dark and murky water, and a city quickly disappearing in the horizon. I was on a boat. My knuckles go white as I grip onto the edge of the window, and I forget how to breathe. How could I be so out of touch with my surroundings, that I couldn't feel the floor moving? Couldn't smell the salt water? Couldn't hear the ship around me moving? I feel so terribly out of touch, like a stranger in my own life. I’ve experienced being knocked unconscious before, I’ve experienced waking up in strange places before, but I always snuck out, always made my way back. Now I don't know what to do, and that in itself is the scariest feeling. Another version of me who is calm, calculated and perfect would have done something. Made up a plan, searched the room for something useful. She would have hidden somewhere, waiting for the boat to dock and then start over again. A perfect me would have done something other than cry and look at the sea that just ruined everything I had built for myself.

That was how Erika found me. Shaking, crying, violent. A weak and scared creature, trying to close her eyes and fall back to sleep.

Erika took me by the shoulders and led me towards the bed where I had woken up. She drew a blanket around my shoulders while she cooed at me. She gave me a glass of water and pulled a chair over to sit beside me. All the while she did this, I started feeling worse. Now I wasn't only frightened, I was also embarrassed. I just wanted to close my eyes again and wake up back in my own alleyway.

I suddenly wished that this was just another nightmare, then laughed through my sobs. My nightmares are strange, but they are not waking up at sea with no way back strange.

Erika notices my little sad laugh and takes the empty glass from my hands. “Are you feeling better now?”

I want to snap at her. Of course I am not feeling better, but somehow I can't find it in me to say so.

“A bit,” I mumbled.

“I am really sorry,” Erika said sincerely. “We don't usually do this.” She waved her hand around, indicating either the boat or the kidnapping.

“What do you do then?” I asked calmly, looking at her dark brown eyes.

“How am I to know, this is the first time I am on a mission to recruit a new Tethered.” She joked. I didn't smile.

“What does that word mean?”

“Tethered?” She paused. Thinking. “It's a kind of human. Like a witch. It's a person like me or Aiden or you.”

“I am not a witch.”

“No. But you are like one.” Erika began explaining. “Think of it like this: Every human can learn how to swim, how to draw, how to cook. Some are better than others, some are masters at one thing and some are a jack of all trades. Then imagine if their ability to learn skills were limitless. If they could learn how to control the fabric of the world, the laws of nature. That's what we are. We are Tethered to the core of the universe.”

For some reason I believed her. My intuition told me that Erika was being honest right now, but being honest right now is not the same as being an honest person. I didn’t have to trust her as a person even if I trusted her words. I knew there were secrets hidden behind her eyes, inside her hair, underneath her tongue.

“And you think that I am one of you?” I asked.

“I don't think. I know,” Erika replied without missing a beat.

“How come?”

“When doing superhuman things, we leave behind superhuman trails. A disturbance in the strings of the universe.”

“You’ve been tracking me with your witchcraft.”

“Yes. Since the first time you used your powers six years ago,” Erika stated like that wasn't creepy. “Which, by the way, is a new record. You managed to stay hidden from us for six years. Very impressive. We started betting on you three years ago. Some people thought you were so out of touch with your own powers, that you didn't use them enough for us to find you.”

“And what did you bet on?” I questioned.

“That you knew what you were doing, so much that you learned to cover up your tracks. Which I still believe. After all, I saw you turn invisible.”

“You did?” I asked in surprise.

Erika must have misunderstood my confusion. “Yes. Aiden and I saw you disappear into thin air the other day as soon as you saw us.”

“But I didn't.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I didn't turn invisible, I just tried to blend in and hide.”

“Oh.” Erika smiled. “You might be a bit more interesting than I thought.”

“I’m sorry?” I repeated after her, which made her laugh. I thought to myself that her laugh sounded like honey felt, then pushed that thought aside and blamed it on my deranged state.

The door opened and Aiden poked his head inside. He spoke in a language I didn't know, and Erika responded quickly and got up.

“Are you to be trusted?” Aiden asked me in English.

“Depends,” I answered honestly. “What were you speaking?”

“French; the language of love.” Someone hummed from behind Aiden. It was the same guy who had knocked me unconscious.

The two boys stepped fully into the room. Aiden either looked bored or pissed, maybe a bit of both. His ginger hair was cut short on the sides, and it made him look like a famous cartoon character that I couldn't remember the name of. He wore completely black clothes, the only spark of color being a red and yellow text on his shirt, saying “Bad Boy With a Tainted Heart”. He had silver earrings and a stud in his nose.

“Hey, we meet again!” The Baseball Bat man exclaimed. He wore a too-big letterman jacket in blue and gray colors, and underneath was a fuzzy, light gray sweater. His hair was fuzzy too, curling around his head like a brown helmet. My eyes very quickly landed and stayed on his eyebrows. They were formed like dark, bushy rectangles and were hard to miss. Underneath the bushes were a set of chilly gray eyes, then underneath those were his toothpaste-commercial smile with dimples on either side.

“Name’s Zeph” He smiled while giving me his hand to shake. I simply looked at it until he pulled it away with a sheepish grin. “Still sour about earlier? Im sorry ‘bout that, really.”

“You guys are apologizing a lot,” I stated.

“That’s because we are sorry,” said Erika.

There was a moment of silence. Zeph moved to the window and opened it. Aiden layed down on the ground, closing his eyes. Erika continued to sit by my bed.

“Where are you taking me?” I asked.

“The base,” Zeph chirped. “Just you wait. You’ll love it there.”

“Is is filled with more maniacs?” I asked.

“Yes,” Aiden answered at the same time that Erika said “No.”

“Well, normal humans might think we are a bit strange, but I do think you’ll come to enjoy our company,” Erika elaborated.

I highly doubted her. For as long as I can remember, I’ve been the odd one out. I had trouble relating to kids my age, to my parents or to anyone really. It always felt like I had missed the day when the other kids were taught how to socialize, how to have fun, how to be normal. I remember one day talking to a girl from my class, and she told me how sad she was that her dog died, and I just remember telling her that she’ll die one day too. Somehow that didn't seem to help her very much, even though it was the truth. I was the same around my parents, always snapping at them or ignoring them, until one day they weren't there and I couldn't find it in myself to miss them. That was maybe the first time I wanted to be like everyone else. I just wanted to cry and to grieve because that was what people did, but I just couldn't. I had to accept that I’d never feel like anyone else, but that I could pretend I did. The worst part is that I know this is an unhealthy coping mechanism, but I just can't stop doing it.

“Okay.” I answered Erika while getting up, then changing the topic. “Can I go to the deck, or am I confined to my room?”

Zeph laughed from the window. “Depends.”

The repeatment of my own words agitated me. I felt like Zeph didn't take me seriously, like I was a child.

“Thats a yes then,” I answered for myself and left before any of them could say something against me.

The air was cold outside, and a fog lay thick upon the waters. I couldn't see the outline of a city anymore, only water. A shiver ran down my spine as I took a hold of the metal railing. I hate to admit it, but I’ve never been out sailing in my entire life. After moving to Denmark, my mother decided she had had enough of traveling, and my father was happy to oblige. We stayed in the country every summer, and only traveled by car or train. The boat rocked slightly under my feet, and I felt like I was going to be sick.

I sat down on the deck and searched my pockets. I wasn't a frequent smoker, too afraid of becoming addicted, but sometimes I’d get a hold of a packet and keep them for when I really need to calm down. I can't remember how I started smoking, it just sort of happened. None of my parents had been smokers, so it wasn't a sentimental thing. Maybe I had acquired the habit from hanging out with other low-class teens, who had made a habit of taking drugs and drinking as a way to escape daily life. I had always been too scared of drugs, since I knew just how well they could fuck somebody over, and alcohol didn't seem very tempting because of the hangover that would come after drinking.

I lit my cigarette and tried to ignore the way the boat moved beneath me. I closed my eyes and tried to come up with a plan. I had to get a hold of my backpack, and I was sure that it was on the ship. I always knew from a gut feeling when my trusted backpack was close to me, but now Erika had implanted the thought that it might be more than just a gut feeling. I was still sceptical towards all of this magic-humans stuff, but it did provide answers to questions about myself, like how I had managed to stay out of the police’s grasp for so long.

Even though I was decidedly open minded towards the idea of magic, I knew that I wouldn't trust any of these people. I wouldn't let myself trust any of them. I could smell lies from a mile away, and these three people all stank. It made me wonder how many lies all of their friends had. I didn't intend to uncover their truths, I honestly didn't care about them, but I knew from experience that people who lie the most are also the most likely to spot one, and I was a living lie waiting to be found. I closed my eyes and inhaled another huff of smoke, trying to get a better look at the person I’d have to play. They would soon want to know how I had ended up homeless, and I suspected that was something I could give an honest answer to. Running away from bad foster homes was a common backstory amongst runaway teens, and it was one of the only truths I could give about myself without feeling like I was giving myself away. I couldn't tell them anything about my parents or all the things I had done while homeless.

In retrospect, sea sickness and cigarettes wasn't a good mix. I ended up hurling the little food I had in my stomach over the railing, then laying on the deck with my hands over my eyes to block out the strong light from the sun, my head pounding terribly.

“You dead?” Zeph asked me, with a cheer that rubbed me the wrong way. I hadn't heard him approach me, which irritated me. This was the fourth time one of the three had snuck up on me today. It was a clear pattern that I didn't like very much.

“Is that a wish?” I asked him, pulling myself together and getting up. I tried to ignore the way my stomach flipped, and gave him a cold look, which he returned with a smile.

“No” Zeph said. “It's a concern. Ever heard of those?” When I didn't answer, he continued. “Erika told me that you have been homeless for nearly five years. I know that people aren't friendly towards homeless people.”

There was the obvious trail to follow. He indicated that he might also have been homeless, and I could see it in the way he carded his hands through his hair that he wanted me to ask about it, but I had decided that I didn't want to get close to any of them.

“Is Erika the only stalker amongst you?” I asked him instead. “Or are all of you crazy?”

“This again? Come on, we explained why we tracked you,” Zeph told me with an amused smile on his lips. “But Erika was the one assigned to your case. Which, by the way, meant very much to her. It’s been ages since she was in charge of a mission, so please don't screw anything up.”

“I won't promise you anything,” I said, going over to the ladder that lead inside the boat where the cabin I had woken up in was. I looked over my shoulder at Zeph, who was leaning against the railing, the wind blowing through his curly hair. “Where’s my stuff?”

“I knew you’d ask that.” He grinned. “It's in the first cabin on your left. That’s also my cabin, by the way, if you ever feel lonely, you know where to find me.”

Zeph winked at me as I left, rolling my eyes at him. I didn't imagine that I’d ever want to talk to Zeph of my own coalition.

It was easy to find my stuff, and as soon as my hand closed around the strap I inhaled a breath I didn't know I had been holding. I took my things and ran into what I assumed was my cabin, sighing in relief at finding it empty. I closed the door and pushed the handle upwards and left, a trick I had learned that would lock most doors.

Emptying the contents of my bag was a relief. I rummaged through the mess, making sure no things were missing. I only had one extra set of clothes, but it was my passport, photobook and sim-card I was most worried about. My passport was essential for me if I wanted to leave Denmark, which seemed kind of pointless now. The sim-card was from my old phone, and it contained all my contacts from back when I was living with my parents. I had never been good at remembering numbers, and I had no use for a phone anymore, so I had only kept the sim-card, hiding it in a small, secret pocket of my backpack.

The photobook was the only sentimental thing I had allowed myself to keep. It was filled with pictures of me and my parents. I had since taking it also added photos of the few friends I had during school, and diary entries from the days I wanted to remember. In some of the pockets were letters my father had sent me after being deployed, in others were euros that my mother had kept. I kept jewelry in it too, though not much. Most of it was my mother’s, as I had never been the type to wear necklaces and earrings.

After checking my things and finding them all, I put everything back inside. The sun was going down and it reminded me of the tiredness I was feeling. I highly doubted that I would be able to fall asleep in the ship, but I didn't have anything better to do. I laid down, closed my eyes, and let my thoughts carry me away.