(A/N: This is set the night after Piper and Patricia fool Eddie and Mr. Sweet.)
The moment Patricia's eyes open, she opens her mouth to speak.
"Not this shit again."
Almost immediately, she's on her feet, whipping her head back and forth. Damn. When's the last time she had this dream? It's been a while…
But it doesn't matter now, because she's having it now, and fuck, that isn't good. Patricia can only think of three things that truly scare her. First, feelings—that includes the whole Eddie drama. Second, feet. And third, this dream. The man in this dream.
She's screwed.
She wants to run—but run where? He can be anywhere here—it doesn't matter if he came from northeast last time, or Southwest the time before that. He's unpredictable.
She adjusts the hem of her dress. Dress? Oh, low blow, dreamland—make her feel even more exposed. Her feet are bare—God, she hates feet…—and the ground is hard beneath her.
You better get a move on, Trixie. She thinks to herself, not daring to speak.
Without thinking, she runs Southeast, the ground ripping at her exposed feet. She's in the woods, in the thick part of it. She remembers meeting him in the woods—but not these woods. These are overgrown and thick and brambles are cutting away at her exposed skin. Well, this isn't fun.
"Hi, Patricia." She skittles to a halt, and whips her head around. A gasp escapes her mouth—was he really powerful enough to do that? She's been in many embarrassing situations—including the time that Eddie called her out on her bluff about hating him. She will someday have the name "Pokerface Patricia" as she sits in a circle, holding her cards, her face giving away nothing. But not today.
She thinks too much, because the man she fears most is standing in front of her with a teasing smirk.
"Rufus." Her voice is shaky—maybe she shouldn't speak at all.
"It's been a while, hasn't it?" He smiles. His ice-blue eyes penetrate her; they see deep inside of her, and can see every single emotion which is threatening to explode out like a storm. "No longer afraid of me?"
"You're dead." She forces it out of her. She's shaking from head-to-toe, and she grips her sides tightly. "You can't hurt me. You can't hurt anyone anymore."
"You're going to regret saying that." He says simply.
He takes a step toward her, and that's enough to make Patricia start sprinting in the other direction. The breeze hits her face, blowing her hair back. She catches a glimpse of her hands as she runs. Is it just her, or is her skin glimmering? She glances at her russet-red hair whipping behind her—is it turning brighter and brighter? Her vision begins to pulse as everything begins to shine, and she forces herself to stop.
In the haze of the terror, she hears a voice. And it's not Rufus's creepy, British drawl.
"Patricia, is that you?"
The voice is accented and his question ends with his voice dropping. She hasn't known this American boy for that much over a month, but Goddamn, she's fallen hard. Not that she'd ever admit it, though.
"Eddie," She whips around, her vision returning long enough so she can see his face. He looks just as disoriented as she does—his normally spiked blonde-brown hair fallen over his forehead, and his eyes trying to make out things in open air.
He tries to make his way over to her, but she moves to him and grabs his arm."It's okay," She soothes. "I'm going to get us out of here, okay?"
"Where are we?" He whimpers. He seems so much unlike his usual, cocky self.
"Hell." She responds simply. "Okay…just hold onto me…I'll get us out of this joint."
She needs to stay strong. This is the only instant when she's running off in terror, screaming her head off. She doesn't show fear—she doesn't know how to show fear. Only in these instances is the horror threatening to overwhelm her.
When she has these dreams, it isn't her that she cares about. Call her selfless, but there always seems to be someone else to save. Most of the time it is Joy, her very best friend. This is Eddie, though, and this is the first time he's appeared in this type of dream. She has to try.
Her vision is becoming blurred again; she grips Eddie's arm tighter. "Don't let go of me." She whispers.
"I won't." His shaky voice replies.
She moves farther along, trying to make sense of the surroundings. She feels Eddie's grip loosen, and she struggles not to protest. She looks up and sees the trees spiraling above her. Her stomach heaves as everything swirls around her, and she fights the urge to puke.
She closes her eyes, trying to focus. Her focus is all she has left—she can't lose it, not now. The line between dream and reality begins to blur, just as it always does. She takes a deep breath, one, two, three. Finally she realizes.
Eddie has let go of her. She turns around slowly, trying to keep her vision balanced. "Eddie? Where are you?"
No response.
"Eddie!" She cries out, her voice thick with desperation.
"Turn around."
The icy voice is back, and Patricia closes her eyes and swallows. She turns around, and sees the sight.
Rufus, standing there, with his pale brown hair and his icy eyes, with Eddie completely imprisoned in his grasp. He's holding a knife, which is positioned against Eddie's neck. Patricia opens her mouth to say something, but no words come.
"Scared yet?" Rufus teases. "I thought you said a while ago that you weren't afraid of me."
"I-I-I am not." She stutters out. "You…You're dead, Rufus. You can't k-kill him, even if you wanted to. Just like you can't kill Joy."
"Patricia." Rufus says, almost teasing. He pauses as Patricia locks eyes with Eddie. The terror in the dark depths is almost too much… Once Patricia focuses her weary, blurry gaze on Rufus again, he goes on. "Don't you see? I lived to be ninety-five and I look like I'm in my early thirties. I can do pretty much everything—I could have killed you when I kidnapped you, but I didn't. I can do anything I damn well please—including this."
Before Patricia can stop him, he slices the knife across Eddie's throat, and she watches the light die from his eyes.
She springs awake.
She watches as everyone else does, too. How? Did she scream in her sleep or something? Must of, because now everyone is surrounding her, asking what is wrong.
"Dream…dream…" Patricia gets out. She rubs her arms, feeling goose bumps explode over her skin like a tiny, organized army of…goose bumps.
Familiarity springs into Joy's soft brown eyes. Patricia nods back, hoping that she gets the message. The message of, Yes, THAT dream. Joy gives a tiny nod, and steps back.
"A dream of what?" Mara asks innocently. Well, of course. She's the most innocent girl here! She has no idea of Sibuna, or the immortality, or anything!
"It's just…I don't want to talk about it." Patricia gets out, but it isn't enough.
Piper, her twin, who sleeps on the floor since she's been staying with them secretly, lifts her head up in curiosity. "You okay, Trixie?"
"No…" Patricia stumbles. "Just…I…"
She stands up quickly and moves toward the door. "I need to cool down," She says over her shoulder.
"Wait, Patricia—" Joy protests.
"Just—" Patricia doesn't bother to finish her sentence, because she's already closing the door, and stepping into the girls' hallway. It must be around two in the morning, because everyone is silent, everything is silent, anything is silent. She rubs her arms, the goose-bumps having not disappeared, and sighs. She needs to stop this. Rufus is dead. He is dead.
She makes her way down the stairs. The urge to check on Eddie is almost undeniable—what if he was in his bed, his throat slit? What if that part of the dream came true? What if you're crazy, Patricia, for thinking this way? She scolds herself. Get a grip.
Swallowing, she makes her way to Eddie and Fabian's room, and braces herself to knock on the door. The day before, she tricked Eddie by using Piper to pretend it was her. They haven't actually spoken since, but still. She needs to know if he's still breathing…
She knocks on his door, as quiet as possible so she doesn't wake Victor. Once. Twice. Three times. Okay, screw this. She opens the unlocked door, letting light flood in.
Fabian is asleep. But Eddie isn't. He's on his laptop, screamo music blaring through his headphones. He looks up, seeing Patricia standing at his doorway.
"Oh, so you finally come around, eh?" He says teasingly. "But, wait. Am I looking at Piper or am I looking at Patricia?"
"Who do you think, weasel?" She snarls at him. She wasn't in the mood for this!
"Patricia, definitely." He mutters, smirking.
Patricia rolls her eyes. Okay, he's fine. There's no need to linger here, or he'll just call her out on more of the bullshit she committed last evening. She's already turning away when he stands up and approaches her.
"Hey, are you okay?" He asks, finally getting the hint. Her hair is all messed up and she can guess that her eyes were empty from all of the restless dreaming.
"Peachy." She shrugs. "Doesn't matter. I'll talk to you tomorrow."
Eddie stares at the nightgown she's wearing. She really needs to burn them soon—they're so exposing and she hates them to death. "How come you never wear this for me?"
"It's a nightgown, Eddie." Patricia glares at him.
"Well, you should wear it more often." He says with a wink, tracing his fingers along the bottom of the lace. "It's very endearing."
Patricia grins back. "We'll see." Had it been, say, a few weeks earlier, Eddie would have said the same thing. But then she would have said, "I'd rather wear a sweatshirt made of needles, you slimeball!" It's funny how dating can change people.
Patricia slips out of his room, and breathes a sigh of relief. It's okay. Her boyfriend is safe. Irritating, but safe. As always.
She doesn't want to go back upstairs. She has a feeling that she'll simply slip back into that dream realm. She can feel Rufus's ice blue eyes staring at her, saying teasingly, "Come on, Patricia. What are you afraid of?"
You, Jackass. She thinks to herself. She walks into the kitchen area and pulls out a bottle of whipped cream. She sits on the couch, the moonlight shining through the windows being the only light, and sprays the cream into her mouth.
Minutes later, she hears a door open. Patricia freezes and moves out of the window's way, so no one saw her. She hears someone creeping around, and her skin is alive with bumps again. She imagines Rufus making his way back to the house, sneaking into here…
The moonlight catches a glint of a tall, skinny body, and there's only one person it could belong to. Jerome. She thinks, rolling her eyes. Fantastic. Now she has to deal with the other annoying slimeball in the house.
He opens the fridge as well, looking around. Patricia can hear him muttering. "Oh, come on. Who took my whipped cream?"
Patricia's lips curl into a grin.
"Me."
"Gah!" Jerome jumps, and Patricia has to fight off a laugh. "Who's there?"
"The queen of darkness." She rolls her eyes and walks over to Jerome. "Here's your whipped cream."
"What are you doing up?" Jerome asks, running a hand through his pale hair.
"Eating whipped cream. Come on, Jerry, do you really think I'm bounded by rules here?"
"Don't call me Jerry. Just because your boyfriend does, doesn't mean you have the privilege to."
"I'm not calling you that because of him."
"Oh, please. Before Edison came along, I was slimeball, or weasel. Now you call him that. So you have to resort to Jerry?" Moonlight glints off of Jerome's blue eyes. "Not very original, Trixie."
"Whatever." Patricia sits at the table, watching Jerome thrust the nozzle of the can into his mouth. "What are you doing up?"
"Nightmare." He says nonchalantly. "Needed some comfort food, that's all."
Patricia freezes.
"Nightmare?" She half-whispers.
"Yeah, it was horrifying. My ex had come back to our boarding school, and I think I almost had a stroke. Not good. Why you look so choked up?" Jerome asks, glancing back at her.
She stares back at him, no coherent words forming.
"You had a nightmare too?" Jerome asks, laughing. "I should have figured—you never leave your room without make-up and your hair done. A nightmare, eh? Wow, Trixie, I didn't know fear fazed you."
Patricia grits her teeth. If only you knew.
"Well, come on now. Who'd you dream of? I don't think you have any exes… Or is it Eddie? Aw, did you two break up already? Shame—that guy stares at you all the time. And you always shoot him down. It's too bad that—"
"I dreamt of Rufus."
Silence.
Because that's all it takes. When it comes to Rufus, both she and Jerome had the firsthand experience on how terrifying he was. No one else knew just how deadly he could be. Could he understand? Could he possibly understand?
"…Oh…oh, that." Jerome sounds very quiet, and his eyes are wide. Patricia looks away, her heart panging. She shouldn't have brought it up. Rufus isn't a discussion they like to discuss.
"Patricia…we don't have to worry about him anymore." Jerome steps closer to her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "You showed me the obituary notice yourself. There is no way he can be alive."
"It doesn't matter." Patricia says through rows of teeth. "You've dreamt of him too. You've felt his embrace. Don't talk to me like I'm crazy—he's watching both of us!"
Silence again.
"You're running through a forest." Jerome speaks quietly. "It looks like the woods right beside the library, but they never end. They just continue to stretch on for miles, and no matter how far you run, you'll never get out. And no matter which way you turn, he's there."
"He's either chasing you, or someone you love." Patricia adds to the story. "And your vision distorts. You can't focus."
"He always finds you. Every time. Without fail." Jerome whispers.
Patricia rubs the sides of her arms, trembling.
"He can haunt us all he likes." Jerome closes his eyes briefly. "It doesn't matter, because he's not alive."
"He'll find us."
"He can't. Even if he wanted to. I guess he found out he wasn't immortal the hard way."
Patricia blinks several times, before saying, "…What if he faked it?"
Jerome stares at her with wide blue eyes.
"He couldn't have."
"What if he did?"
"Trixie, don't talk that way!" Jerome hisses. "The man is dead, and there's nothing he, or anyone else, can do about it! We're free now, don't you get it?"
"So you've thought it too?" Patricia challenges.
"Keep your voice down!" Jerome growls quietly. "And there is no way!"
"You've woken up from a dream thinking, 'He's still out there, isn't he?'" Patricia balls her hands into fists. "You have, haven't you?"
"Stop it!" Jerome snaps. "There's no use conspiring these theories! He is dead!"
Patricia takes a deep breath and closes her eyes. Opening them again, she can see Jerome, outlined completely by moonlight.
"You're probably right." Her voice sounds icy. "I'm probably just haunted by his spirit. But I can feel him, Jerome. He's here beside me, and he won't leave me alone. He's going to find us. And we're going to regret it. Don't say I didn't warn you."
(A/N: GAH. RUFUS IS THE COLLECTOR. HE IS HE IS HE IS.)