Cold Hearts | Tobias Eaton

°3°

WHEN THEY OPEN, an instant has passed, but I am somewhere else. I stand in the school cafeteria again, but all the long tables are empty, and I see through the glass walls that it's snowing. On the table in front of me are two baskets. In one is a hunk of cheese, and in the other, a knife the length of my forearm.

Behind me, a woman's voice says, "Choose."

"Why?" I ask.

"Choose," she repeats.

I look over my shoulder, the person who's speaking is not there. "Can I take both?"
"Choose!" repeats the voice angrily.
"Alright, I'll do it. Chill out." and my hand reaches for the hunk of cheese.

The baskets disappear. Only thing left is the cheese. Then I appear at a farm. So many wolves are howling near me, but I cannot see any. Then I see an old woman sitting near a tree.
"My dear! Could you please help me through the forest?" I feel like I'm nodding, but I can't control it. I help the old granny stand up, however when we're both standing we're surrounded by group of wolves.
"Do you remember how to get rid of wolves?"  But I don't. Unlike my siblings I couldn't remember the biological science classes we had.
"I'll offer them a cheese." I say and throw the cheese. The wolves back off a little, the old granny near me uses this distraction to run away, but then she's surrounded by wolves again.
What should I do? If I jump before her, they'll attack me. But if I don't? 

I blink, and when my eyes open, a child stands at the place where the granny stood. The other wolves disappeared, only on near me is still standing. Her face looks too similar to Beatrice. She stretches out both hands and squeals, "Puppy!"

As she runs toward the only wolf at my side, I open my mouth to warn her, but I am too late. The wolf starts to growl, it barks and snarls and snaps, and its muscles bunch up like coiled wire. About to pounce. I don't think, I just jump; I hurl my body on top of the dog, wrapping my arms around its thick neck.
My head hits the ground. The dog is gone, and so is the little girl. Instead I am alone—in the testing room, now empty. I turn in a slow circle and can't see myself in any of the mirrors. I push the door open and walk into the hallway, but it isn't a hallway; it's a bus, and all the seats are taken.

I stand in the aisle and hold on to a pole. Sitting near me is a man with a newspaper. I can't see his face over the top of the paper, but I can see his hands. They are scarred, like he was burned, and they clench around the paper like he wants to crumple it."Do you know this guy?" he asks. He taps the picture on the front page of the newspaper. The headline reads: "Brutal Murderer Finally Apprehended!" I stare at the word "murderer." It has been a long time since I last read that word, but even its shape fills me with dread.

In the picture beneath the headline is a young man with a plain face and dark hair. I feel like I do know him, though I don't remember how. And at the same time, I feel like it would be a bad idea to tell the man that. But even if I did know him I can't place him anywhere.

"Well?" I hear anger in his voice. "Do you?"
I shrug my shoulders.

"Well?"

A shudder goes through me. My fear is irrational; this is just a test, it isn't real. "Maybe I do," I say, my voice little high pitched. "But I don't know his name."

He stands up and moves closer to me. I finally see his face, that is covered in scars.

"You're lying," he says. "You surely know his name!"

"I am not."
"I can see it in your eyes."

I pull myself up straighter. "You can't." I'm not lying, I don't remember the name.

"If you know him," he says in a low voice, "you could save me. You could save me!"

I narrow my eyes and suddenly something clicks in my head, the picture he was showing becomes a lot clearer. "Well," I say. I set my jaw and look at the ground. "It's my brother, Caleb Prior ."