Chapter 6: Darkness

"I am terrified by this dark thing
That sleeps in me;
All day I feel its soft, feathery turnings, its malignity."
—Sylvia Plath, Elm.

Allison drummed her fingers against the kitchen table, trying and failing to concentrate on her english homework. She was supposed to be reading chapters five and six of "The Catcher in the Rye," but what she'd really been reading was the same sentence, over and over again, for the last 10 minutes or so.

I slept in the garage the night he died, Allison read, for the umpteenth time. She just couldn't seem to concentrate, and she wasn't even sure why. It was though she could feel some kind of tension in the air, and all week long she'd been unable to shake the feeling that something was coming... or already here. She didn't know what, or how, nor could she explain why she felt this way. All she knew was that it wasn't going away.

I slept in the garage the night he died.

More than anything, Allison wished she could talk to her Dad about this, this gut feeling that something was wrong. But she knew if she tried, he'd just remind her of the deal they'd made, how they'd both agreed that they were done with things like this. They were living normal lives, free from unshakable feelings of impending doom.

Or, that was the idea, at least. In reality it was proving hell of a lot harder to follow through on. And as much as Allison told herself she was being ridiculous, told herself that she'd been at least somewhat normal for 16 years of her life, and a hunter for only a few months—she was beginning to think that this might just be a part of her now. It wasn't something she could just turn off, like flicking a switch.

Sometimes she wasn't sure what scared her more; the thought that this was just who she was now... or the thought that this was what she really wanted to be. Was she unable to turn it off because it was inside of her... or because she was afraid to lose it?

I slept in the garage the night he died.

Allison's dreams that night were troublesome. Strange images coming at her at the speed of light, jumbled and bizarre but somehow terrifying. It was still the middle of the night when she was jolted awake, gasping and sweating, and feeling strangely nauseous.

Allison sat up in her bed, breathing in slowly through her nose, trying to slow her heart rate. They were just dreams, she reminded herself, nothing that could hurt her. And already, she was unable to even remember what they'd been about. There'd been a knife, she thought... definitely something about a knife. But that was all that was left, nothing more.

Slowly, her heart rate returned to normal. Allison lay back down in her bed, and stared up at her ceiling as she let the sound of the rain hitting her window calm her. It had been raining on and off like this for over a week now, and while it was a pain in the ass when she was rushing out the door to school, completely forgetting to bring an umbrella, she was glad for it now.

Soothed by the sound of the rain outside, Allison closed her eyes, turned onto her side and dreamed no more that night.

Across town from Allison, Jackson was not finding himself so lucky.

In his dreams, he was drowning in darkness.

The darkness surrounded him, pressed in on him from all sides, cold and wet. He couldn't breath, because he knew that if he drew breath it would let the darkness in, and he would choke on it. All he could do was sink down lower into it, grasping uselessly above him. He'd never felt so helpless before, except for all of the other times this had happened.

It had happened before, Jackson knew, although it did not comfort him. Many times before, if he thought about it. How many times? Had he grown up his whole life, having this dream? Was he reliving a memory, over and over, unable to move past it? Was it possible this fear had always been with him?

It had been, he knew. It had always been this way.

The dream changed. The wet, chlorinated darkness drained away and left him dry in his bed. And not alone.

The dream changed, but the feeling of absolute helplessness did not leave. Nor did the suffocating, choking feeling. It was different, less literal... no less strong. The hands on his body told him they wanted him, that he was so special and so beautiful, and all his... and Jackson could not resist them. Had not even wanted to resist them. What he would have given, to have been allowed to resist. To struggle.

There was a massive clap of thunder, and Jackson woke up in his bed, alone. He was unsurprised to find that he was crying.

Jackson sat up and put his head in his hands, making no effort to quell the tears running down his face. He'd thought this was over. Or, he'd hoped... it had been so long, he'd hoped his nightmares were over. He'd gone over a month without one, over a month without a single gut wrenching nightmare... and then suddenly they were back.

Every night for the last week Jackson had been forced, in his sleep, to relive the worst memories he had. Memories that belong to him, and a few that did not, but were just as terrible to experience again as the ones that were. The nightmares were more vivid than they'd even been, and Jackson was not sure how much long he would be able to stand them, before they drove him insane.

School had become even more of a chore than usual. Jackson was exhausted, and he felt like absolute shit. And it might have been his might imagination, but he didn't think he was the only one either. In every one of his classes there were kids sitting with their heads down at their desks, sleeping or maybe just unable to think of a reason good enough to sit upright. Just in the time it took him to walk to the cafeteria for lunch, Jackson passed two kids slamming their heads against their lockers, and was almost knocked down by a girl as she ran tearfully past him.

Inside the cafeteria Jackson found Lydia already at a table, lightly sprinkling dressing onto her salad. Allison was sitting with her, and Jackson felt an uncomfortable swoop in his gut. Of all the pieces of Matt that had been left in his head, he was thankful that his insane romantic obsession with Allison was not one of them. That didn't stop Jackson from feeling awkward when he was around her, as he could still remember the way Matt would think about her, all the images of her he had in his head... not to mention, the incident in the shower. Just thinking about how much Matt had enjoyed that made the bile rise up in his throat.

If Allison was holding any of that against him, she gave no signs of it as he arrived at the table. She was sitting across from Lydia, an unwrapped sandwich in front of her, and a familiar exhausted look on her face.

"Hey," Jackson said, greeting Lydia with a kiss on the cheek. "Hey, Allison," Allison nodded in acknowledgement, absently picking at the crust of her sandwich. "No offence, but you look like crap."

"Jackson!" Lydia exclaimed. "That's incredibly rude," She pursed her lips, and looked Allison over. "I mean, he's not exactly wrong, but it's still rude to say so." Lydia paused. "No offence."

Allison shook her head. "Okay, you guys know that just because you say 'no offence,' it doesn't make what you're saying any less offensive." Jackson and Lydia shrugged, and Allison sighed. "I haven't been sleeping very well lately," She explained, running her fingers through her hair. "I've been having some weird dreams—"

"Really?" Jackson asked, before he could stop himself. "I mean... how long has that been going on for? The dreams?"

Allison chewed on her bottom lip, considering the question. "Uh, they started a few days ago, I guess. Why?"

Jackson looked away, scratching at the back of his neck. "No reason," He muttered. Allison and Lydia both raised their eyebrows. "I've just, I've been having some weird dreams too, lately. Nightmares, I guess."

"You have? Why haven't you told me about that before?" Lydia asked, rubbing the back of his neck with her hand. Her hand was soft and small, not big and rough like Derek's. He hated himself for comparing them, but he couldn't help it. And there was no denying which one he preferred.

Jackson shrugged. "I don't know, it didn't seem important."

"Of course it's important, Jackson." She said quietly. She smiled. "And what's more, I know exactly how to help." She removed her hand from Jackson's neck, and began rummaging around in her bag. "What you need—what you both need, is a distraction," She said, pulling out a light blue piece of paper. "And I have the perfect one," She laid the paper out onto the table in front of them, and smoothed it flat.

"Prom?" Allison asked, turning her head to get a better look at the flyer. "I didn't know they'd started putting these up already."

"They haven't yet, they'll be up in a few days," Lydia said. "I know someone on the Prom committee."

"How is Prom going to distract us?" Jackson asked. "The flyer says it's not for two months."

Lydia grinned widely. "But it's never to early to start campaigning."

"For... ?"

"King and Queen," Jackson groaned, but Lydia raised her hand to silence him. "No, we are doing this, Jackson. It'll be good for us."

"How is that supposed to help me?" Allison interrupted. "I mean, I'll vote for you guys, obviously, but otherwise I don't really..." She trailed off, shrugging.

"When you say 'good for us,'" Jackson said, "Do you mean good for us, or do you meangood for our reputations?" He cast a guilty look at Allison, realizing he'd entirely ignored that she'd spoken.

"Both, Jackson. It will help distract you from your troubles, and help remind the people in this school that we're still alive, and still the best," Jackson rolled his eyes, but decided nothing good would come from contradicting her.

Lydia turned to Allison. "And we'll need all the help we can get, Allison. Making flyers, handing out buttons, and picking out the dress I'll wear when we win. You'll have lots to do."

Allison gave Lydia a tight-lipped smile. "Can't wait," She said.

Jackson folded his arms against his chest, and slumped back in his chair. "Yeah, me neither," He muttered. Lydia and Allison continued to talk about Prom (did Allison think she and Scott would be back together by then? Because if they were, they could all take a limo together), and as conversation turned to criticizing the outfits of the new transfer students ("I'm being serious," Lydia insisted, "You cannot trust anyone who wears a poncho. The other two are just as bad—sunglasses? In doors, all the time? Does she think she's in a rock band?") Jackson allowed himself to zone out.

Once his mind had drifted away from Lydia's horror at their peers attire ("—and don't even get me started on the Penelope wannabe, how she can even breath under that scarf is beyond me...") as usual, they turned to Derek. Since the start of the storm the week before, they'd spent no time alone together. Part of Jackson was convinced that that was the cause of his nightmares. If he could just relieve some of the stress he was feeling, maybe they would go away.

There was training after school today, maybe Jackson could find some way to slip Derek a note, asking him to meet him somewhere later... the woods, or maybe they could park Derek's car somewhere and do it in there. Neither of those options were particularly appealing to Jackson, but then neither was reliving another night with Matt. Jackson shivered. No, he wasn't sure how much more of that he could handle at all.

What he would give, to be able to forget it all again. But dwelling on it wouldn't help, and Jackson forced his train of thoughts back to Derek.

Maybe they could get a hotel room. People did that, didn't they? They could split the bill, pay cash... that way they could even spend the night together. He wouldn't have to face another night alone with the dark. The more Jackson thought about it, the more he began to like the idea.

"Jackson? Hello?" Jackson jumped, startled by the sound of Lydia's voice. Lydia raised her eyebrows, regarding him curiously. "What were you thinking about?"

"Uh, nothing," Jackson said, slipping his arm over her shoulder. He smiled, trying to push down the sickening guilt he suddenly felt. Lydia deserved so much better than him, he knew that. He'd failed her too many times to count. "Just, how excited I am for prom,"

Lydia rolled her eyes. "Liar," She said, shaking her head.

Jackson swallowed, feeling ill. "Yeah," he muttered, hating himself more by the second. "I am."

A/N: Yay second update this week! Yay Allison! Boo, no Derek! But yay, plot!