The Reaping: Language of the Liar Read Online Free

to something.
    As she detangled her feet from the bedsheets, she felt a breeze of cold air brush across her neck.  Whipping her head around, her heart jumped into her throat when she saw the window sitting open.  Her hands began to tremble as she jumped from the bed and ran over, pulling it shut with a hard slam.
    This was the third morning in a row she’d woken up to the window open.  Her routine should have prevented that.  Before bed, she walked through every room of her tiny apartment making sure all windows and doors were secured and locked.  There was absolutely no way she had forgotten the one near her bed.  No chance.  Not even the strongest of her meds could counteract that fear of open rooms.
    Breathing against her nausea, she sat back on her bed and tried to calm herself down.  It was a silly fear, she reminded herself.  The window itself was too small for anyone to climb through, even if they could pry it open.  Of course, that wasn’t the issue.  Her fears of open doors and windows had been around as long as she could remember.  The very thought made her spiral into a violent panic attack if she wasn’t careful and controlled.  There was no explaining it, and the doctors always labeled it a symptom of her condition.
    They asked her once as a child why it bothered her so much, and she rambled on for twenty minutes about unfinished spaces, doorways, and monsters breaking into her safe space.  They assumed it was the product of system abuse, and wrote it off as such.
    Now she modified her daily routine, took anti-anxiety medication, and tried to cope as best she could.
    Finally calm, Dorian rose from the bed and went to the dresser to get her clothes for the day.  She knew a shower would help, washing off the sweat from nightmares always took away the last bit of lingering anxiety.  She set everything on the bed and walked to the bathroom, loving the feel of the cold tiles on her bare feet.
    Closing the door with a firm click, she walked to the shower and turned it on as hot as she could stand.  Steam immediately fogged up the mirror, which gave her a sense of relief.  Mirrors weren’t as bad as open doors or windows, but the sense of unease they gave her was hard to cope with.  Even on her strongest medication, she couldn’t shake the feeling that in the void of her reflection, something was watching.
    She stripped, stepping under the hot stream, and washed away the sweat from her adrenaline-induced nightmare.  The images were foggy, fading fast.  The drugs she took made it almost impossible for her to remember anything after waking up, but this one lingered.  Like a far-off memory, but the feeling of fear and pain was slipping away as she washed the lather down the small tub drain.
    Stepping out, she stood in front of her fogged mirror and squinted.  She could barely make out her reflection as she ran the comb through her dark hair.  It didn’t really matter that she couldn’t see herself.  She never wore make-up, kept her hair simple, dressed in earth tones to blend in with the crowd.  She’d spent too much time sticking out from the norm, and all she wanted with this new job was to go unnoticed.  To do her tasks assigned to her, go home at the end of the day, and get through her life without any more incidents.
    Checking her watch, Dorian knew she had time for a quick cup of coffee with Father Stone before heading out.  She had a few errands to run, some supplies to pick up before next week’s classes, and she wanted to get her weekend obligations done early.  The garden was inviting, the weather perfect, and she was craving time to sit under the shady trees and draw.
    Life at the school wasn’t as bad as she assumed.  The job came with a few perks, namely an apartment to herself, meals, and a small expense account partially funded by her government benefits, and partially funded by the church.  It wasn’t totally on her own, but aside from her curriculum, she didn’t