The Gift
Episode 3: Nightmares
By Sulia Serafine
This is an ALTERNATE UNIVERSE fic. This is the sequel series to It Could Be Worse, which will end with season 4. NOTE: You can read it if you have not read ICBW. It's possible. You won't get the foreshadowing and the cameos, but you will, eventually. I'd explain them. Credit goes to Tamora Pierce. I'm broke, so you can't sue me. Any other copyrighted things that don't belong to me in here in fact belong to other very businesslike people. Could you believe that? I guess that's why I'm broke.
~~
So here I am.
I don't exactly know where here is, but it can't be too hard to find out. There's no time to find out now, though. The road is long, and the sky is turning gray with the threat of bad weather. If you ask me, these are the perfect conditions for a nap in the back seat.
I shoved the various pieces of junk and clothing onto the floor and lain down on the lumpy and cracked leather. I've slept in worse places. This would actually be better than most.
"Sweet dreams," Yvenne called from behind the wheel. She giggled and reached behind her with one hand to ruffle my hair.
"Stop that!" Then I paused. "Why is it so quiet?"
Yvenne pointed beside her. "The squirt is asleep. I'm tempted to dump him by the side of the road, but that's nothing new."
"Oh." I lowered my head again. "Well, I'm going to sleep, too. So could you keep it down? You know I'm a light sleeper."
She nodded. "Sure."
"And put the top up. It might rain soon."
"Whatever you say, Vinny."
My head began to itch. It wasn't the sort of thing I could scratch, either. Instead, there were little electric impulses, stimulated and now driving me crazy. I rubbed the back of my neck and frowned. There was one more thing I had to settle.
"Yvenne?"
"Yes?"
"Don't wake Faleron up while I'm asleep and try to teach him how to drive. We'd crash."
She applied pressure to the brake and stopped the car. "How the hell did you know I was going to try that?"
I rolled onto my back, keeping my knees bent and my hands behind my head. "I learned how that diabolical mind of yours works so I could survive. It was a perfectly good guess."
The Carthaki glared at me and resumed driving.
It's mildly difficult to fabricate new excuses for my actions. Ignoring the predictions and impulses never became an option. If I did, I went through pain or humiliation. You've already seen that happen. It's not like I actually enjoy being banished from the car for something I didn't do.
The impulses came and went, always thrown in my face. If my gift were a person, he'd be a tall burly man with a foghorn, coming at me on a bullet train every other minute. And I would be stuck on the rails, staring into the blinding train lights unable to move until the gift hit me full on.
It hurt sometimes, to see and feel the things I did. But it's a type of pain I've grown accustomed to. Everyone carries a burden on his shoulders, right?
~~
A boy from my ward once told me that he had nightmares whenever he ate too much at dinner. This spawned my lifelong habit of eating a tiny supper. I had never expected him to tell me, but he just did. Maybe it was because he knew I didn't talk to anyone. There was no one to trust. When a patient trusted another patient at Styx with a secret, it gave him the power of blackmail.
When I was a child, nightmares were very rare, but they frightened me nonetheless. Every now and then, my imagination transformed into a treacherous thing. Monsters breathed down my neck and hid in spooky shadows. I'm glad that I rarely had these morbid dreams. A tiny part of me is still surprised I never had a heart attack when they happened.
No one ever knew. There weren't any boys to trust with this secret. The aforementioned boy, who ate so much that nightmares punished him—he had these awful dreams, but he never remembered them. He had nothing to be scared about. I, however, was scared shitless for days after the few times it happened.
The doctors could give medicine to cause one to sleep every night without interruption. This was a worse fate than the nightmares, because the boys who took that medicine never seemed to be fully awake when they moved about during the day. They were unresponsive and docile. It dismayed me out to see them trudge about like zombies let loose in a horror movie.
Any secret as embarrassing as nightmares could cause other boys to look down upon a patient. In those days, we pretended to be adults. We scoffed at nightmares because those were things for children. We weren't children. We were elite… better than everyone else! Too good for the world to see and that's why we allowed ourselves to be holed up in a hospital like committed lunatics.
To have a nightmare at the age of seventeen makes me feel like I'm ten years old again. And being ten was horrible. I was surrounded with peers who didn't trust each other. Mysterious guards and orderlies in gray dogged me night and day. And doctors trained me to be like a circus act. I hated being ten years old.
My nightmare consisted of the same old stuff. I ran through a dark forest at night. The gnarled branches stretched toward the purple sky like skeletal hands of corpses. Noises around me resembled snarling beasts. Predators hunted me.
No matter where I ran, menacing jaws snapped at my feet. When I looked back, gray wolves with black eyes chased after me. I was never fast enough to escape them; I always tripped and fell. And they would drag me back into the shadows, kicking and screaming for help that would never come.
When I woke up, Yvenne was gripping my forearm. I bolted upright, startled and sweating. The forest turned back into a dingy old car. Nothing bit at my feet except the cold. I swallowed, trying to get moisture back into my mouth. Salivate, salivate, damn it. The coppery stale taste in my mouth, the sort you got when you woke up in the morning, forced me to look around the floor of the backseat for a water bottle.
Anything to get this taste out of my mouth.
"I'm surprised that I actually slept in a moving vehicle. How long was I out?" I asked, still rummaging amongst the junk. We really had to clean out this car.
"Vinny, are you okay?" Yvenne asked me. She reached for my face and wiped off a bead of sweat on my brow.
I jerked away. Without looking up, I shook off the horrible dream and replied, "I told you not to and you're still letting him drive?"
"It's easy! The only problem is reaching the pedals, Vinny!" Faleron insisted. I lifted my head and glanced at his feet. Sure enough, an aerosol spray can was attached to the bottom of his right shoe. Yvenne smiled apologetically at me. She cleared her throat.
"Vince, are you sure you're okay? You were twisting and turning back there like someone had killed you, or… or at least tried to."
I grabbed Faleron's shoulder. "Squirt, stop the car. I'm driving." I finally found a bottle of some fruit flavored drink and gulped it down. "Yuck. What is this stuff?"
"Vinny?"
"Next time, buy fruit punch, like normal people. Banana! As a drink? Yuck." I screwed the cap back on and threw the bottle down.
"Vinny, what did you dream about?!"
"It was nothing, Yvenne! Get off my case!" I bellowed.
No one spoke after my outburst. They were either scared of me or embarrassed for me. My mind could not differentiate between the two. Faleron braked slowly and pulled onto the side of the road. He removed the can from the bottom of his shoe, opened the door, and hopped out.
I was glad that we had not crashed, but I was still very angry with myself and with them, though I had no reason to be. Never mind my mood, the little boy and I switched places without further argument. He didn't seem too frightened, just confused. He couldn't understand why a grown-up like me would suddenly yell like that. Sheltered little fool.
While I adjusted the seat and the mirrors, Yvenne gathered her wits and spoke. "You can talk to us, if you want, man. We'll listen. That's what friends do, right?"
I wouldn't know.
"There's nothing to talk about," I replied finally. I shifted out of park and we continued on our way.
The roads were surrounded by an expanse of empty field. The grass was wilted in many places. It looked repulsive and decayed like death. It was nothing like how summer was supposed to be. Summer was livelier. During that season, the grass grew long and bright green like emeralds. They ought to call these places Emerald Fields. But they're dull now. Dull and as dim as fake costume jewelry. How could that be? It's summer, isn't it?
Ominous, threatening clouds filled the dark sky. The rain would wash away the ugliness I felt. It was good for that purpose. Afterwards, the world soaked it all in. Everything smelled fresh and new like spring—no matter what season of the year it was. I welcomed the rain. I wanted to absorb it all in and be new again.
We entered a small town out of the way of civilization. I doubted that it was even worth searching, but who knew? It never hurt to ask. Small communities like this would remember if a baby had been lost or given up. Everyone knew everyone else, correct?
"There's nothing here. Let's move on," Yvenne urged me. "I know this sounds weird, but I need a crowded, urban, and dirty place! This is like… down on the farm with Old McDonald." She shuddered.
Faleron squeezed between both of us and pointed. "Look! Actual horses! Real horses!"
Quadrupeds. Hooves. Shapely, muscled legs and powerful flanks. Long faces. Gentle eyes. The kid was right. They were real horses... unless I'm completely mistaken and those are the most repulsive cows on the face of this planet.
"Can I help you, Mister?" A man with a straw hat leaned up against our car, seeing as we'd stopped in the middle of the road of their fair community. He chewed on a stalk of grain sticking out the side of his mouth.
"Um, yes! We're passing through and we're looking for a place to stay while the storm goes by. The roof isn't what it used to be." I pointed at the convertible's top. It was true. We were certainly lucky it hadn't rained yet or else we'd be swimming and driving at the same time, if you catch my drift.
"Oh, sure! No problem," the man said. He had a rustic accent, but it was nice. I seriously liked it. Honest, simple farming folk. Rich, simple farming folk.
Did I mention that all farmers are by statistic, very rich men? They own large farms, robotically and human operated to produce the mass amount of food that we "city slickers" eat. And in this day and age of overpopulation and starvation, they get paid handsomely for it. This includes the huge subsidies the government pays them to not produce too much food and drive the national crop price down. Damn. These men never looked like it, but they were swimming in nobles. A grin crept onto my face without knowing it. This man leaning on my rusty car door could easily make more money a week than I do a whole month.
Well, slap me into the saddle and call me a cowboy…
"So, do you think you can help us out, kind Sir?" I asked, mustering up my most charming and pleasant voice. Faleron and Yvenne exchanged suspicious glances. I couldn't see them, but I knew what they were thinking.
The man scratched his chin. "There's an—"
"Inn down the road?"
"Well, how in the world did you know I was going to say that?" The man put both hands on his hips. "You can't even see the darned thing until you go over the hill!"
Whoops. "Oh, lucky guess. Thank you, Sir!"
"No… no problem," the man replied, still perplexed and frowning.
When we were moving again, Yvenne moved to pinch my arm. My hand shot out automatically and captured her wrist. I slowed down as I glanced back and forth from her and the road. "What is it?"
"You tell us," Faleron huffed. Yvenne nodded in agreement.
I growled low in my throat. "This town is small and rich. If I can find where they hang out and ask them for one or two games of poker, I'm sure to get a lot of winnings. These folk are proud and stubborn, too. They won't quit while they're ahead."
Yvenne snorted. "How do you know?"
Whoops again. "I just do! Now give me a break! Why are you two so in my face today?"
"Because you're freaking us out, Vinny! That's why! First with your stupid nap, thrashing around like a chicken with its head cut off! Then just now with that farmer!" She folded her arms and gave me her dirtiest look as of yet.
"T'is the way of a conman, Yvenne. Thought you would have figured that out." I rubbed my eyes, a stressful motion; nothing was really wrong with my eyes. We coasted slowly down the hill. I pulled into the inn's meager parking lot and turned off the engine. "You've got nothing to be freaked out about."
Oh, what I wouldn't do to be on my own just now. I ought to give her another reason to throw me out of the car. Despite her hard-headedness, I didn't think she'd do it. She didn't want to be responsible for a car she can't take care of and a kid she can't figure out. And Yvenne seriously believed the illusion that we could almost trust each other now.
"Look. You see? That overhang shades the car. Let's go inside," I said to them and stuck my hand behind the backseat. Faleron handed me two bags, his and mine. I got up and pulled the seat forward so he could climb out. After shutting the door, he automatically reached for my free hand as if I were his teacher or parent. I rolled my eyes and decided to tolerate it for the time being.
The inn was a two story barn-shaped building made of red brick painted white all over. A wooden sign hung over the large doorway, and little finger paintings of cows covered the walls. The innkeeper had a kid who was Faleron's age. I could see him in my mind, if not with my eye.
He was about to run across our path and skid into the wooden door, hitting his shoulder really hard. The dog—a little, brown Pomeranian—would also appear and skid into the door.
I sighed. Faleron looked up at me. "What is it?"
"Nothing."
A short blur ran in front of us.
"Oof!" That poor door…
Another blur.
"Arf!" Again, that poor door…
Yvenne cringed. "Hey, kid! Are you okay?"
The boy rubbed his shoulder. His cheeks were red with embarrassment. "Fine, Miss!" He shoved the door while turning the handle. It finally gave way and allowed the boy entrance. The whimpering dog trotted behind him, waiting for a chance to leap into a person's lap. It didn't matter whose.
We entered without a problem since the door had been left open. I shut it behind me. The inside of the inn was very quaint. The furnishings of the lobby were in brown and peach, with little dashes of a rusty dark red that matched everything else perfectly. Little wooden carvings painted like farm animals covered the mantle. Photographs of places around the small town, black and white, lined the walls.
It had a nice, lived-in feeling. It was like coming home.
Yvenne plopped down on an armchair. She caressed the crocheted chair cover and seemed at ease. Faleron continued to pull me by the hand toward the front desk.
A middle-aged woman with gray streaks in her dark brown hair smiled at me. She leaned over and touched her fingertip to Faleron's nose—her way of saying 'hello' to kids.
"What can I do you for?" she asked with the same accent as the man in the road. Nice.
"I'd like a room with two twin beds. Twenty-eight nobles a night, right?"
She blinked at me. "Oh, yes." She looked behind her, to see the sign. "Are you staying for more than one night?"
I'd never looked at the sign. I grinned anyway. "Um, we just might. Is it okay for me to pay again tomorrow if we do stay?"
The woman nodded. "No problem. If you could just sign here, I'll ring you up at the register and have Bernin show you to your room."
I dropped Faleron's hand and reached for my wallet, already in my pocket and not you-know-where. I laid the money on the desktop and signed the gray pad set there with an electronic pen. The flat screen behind the desk was turned toward me. It automatically picked up my signature and logged it.
"Bernin!" the woman called. "Where did that boy run off to?"
"He followed the dog down the hall, Ma'am." I pointed to my right. It was true. And I could have seen it. My gift was working in overdrive today. I liked to think that it was because of the rain and not because my nightmare had stimulated the right neurons. Alas, the nightmare part was true. Every time I had one, my gift would work more often and I would indulge it even more.
The rain? Well, it could be possible. Just like the effect the moon had on a werewolf. Except if I climbed onto the desktop and howled right now, I'm pretty sure I'd get kicked out.
Faleron tugged my hand. I looked down. "You hungry?"
He nodded, wide-eyed. It didn't take superpowers to guess what usually went around kids' minds. Although for an eleven-year old, Faleron wasn't just about the little stuff. Smart-aleck whiz kid was the term I believe Yvenne used.
Speak of the devil—she was still on the armchair, glaring at me as if I were an impostor. I avoided her gaze and looked through the little welcome guide sitting on the desktop for restaurants. Faleron, bored out of his mind, started swinging on my hand. Let him do what he wants. He doesn't try to get into my head unlike some people.
The boy named Bernin and his Pomeranian came back down the hall. His mother leaned over the desktop and handed him a key. He nodded, picked up as many of our bags as he could, and started down the hall. We followed him upstairs to our room.
The room was as quaintly decorated as the lobby. It was annoying, but it suited our needs, so I let it go. I set down my bags, reached into my pocket, and tipped the boy. He muttered a shy 'thank you' and bound back downstairs. The dog barked once at me and followed his master.
I hate dogs. I'm pretty sure that they hate me, too.
"Okay, let's go eat and then come straight back here to sleep. It's an easy walk. Sound good to you?" I asked.
"Sure!" He paused. His little hand let go of mine and fiddled with his shirt buttons. He had hardly any other clothing besides his school uniform. "Isn't there anything fun or adventurous we could do here? Visit animals, maybe?"
"We'll see," I replied. I wanted to say outright that we were not going to see any animals, but that would presumably start a tantrum. And I have little tolerance for children throwing tantrums. I turned toward her. "Yvenne, come on. Let's go eat."
She didn't speak a word to me and exited the room. Faleron reclaimed my hand and swung our arms back and forth. I didn't seem to notice much. All I could think about was what my gift kept whispering to me.
Yvenne Noble will confront you. She suspects.
This gift can be a pain in the ass sometimes. A you're-sitting-on-a-bed-of-needles pain in the ass.
The rain began pouring down. I went to the innkeeper and asked her if we might borrow an umbrella. The woman was more than happy to oblige her guests. I opened up the umbrella and led my companions across the street. Halfway across, Faleron decided to run ahead and see if he could find any little side adventures on the way to the restaurant.
This was the only time I had wished the little twerp had stayed. Now I was alone with the suspicious one. She hugged her arms around herself to keep warm.
"Are you going to try and weasel a game or two out of the people here?"
I shrugged. "Maybe."
"You should. We always need money."
The back of my head began to tingle. Before I knew what I was doing, my hand reached out and touched her arm, halting her beside under the umbrella. A few seconds later, Faleron rounded the corner toward us and jumped into a puddle. Mud splattered in our path, but not on us. The boy smiled, resumed a more dignified gait, and preceded us to the restaurant doors, shaking off his school blazer and stomping the dirt off his shoes.
"You're weird," she said.
We passed through the swinging doors of the country restaurant and waited at the front register. I had closed the umbrella and was shaking it off at the doormat so it didn't drip while inside. Faleron bent over to examine a plaque placed low on a wall filled with them.
"Why am I weird?" I asked, pretending to be very disinterested in her mood.
Yvenne pouted. "I can't explain it right. It's like… you know things without trying and you can always stop me when I try to get at you with a pinch or a poke, or pull me back when I'm about to get splashed with mud."
"If you had been paying attention, you could have heard Fal running toward us," I lied.
"Are you sure?"
"You're the one being weird," I yawned. "You're seeing things that aren't there."
The Carthaki shook her head. She rubbed her temples. "I guess I am. Bad storms bring bad moods, right?" She chuckled. "Sorry, man."
"I'll forgive you this time," I answered melodramatically.
She snorted and rolled her eyes. A restaurant employee charged us money for the buffet. We were shown a table, given clean sparkling plates, and were welcomed to the food line. I observed my environment. There were many tables filled with just single people, or groups of people in the same sex.
Very few families. Families would be having a nice warm meal in the comfort of their own homes. The few families that were there separated into groups of married men and groups of gossiping wives while the children played near the back. The restaurant was normally where the unmarried and the blissfully alone gathered because they did not have wives or mothers or families to cook or share food with. And cooking for just your self was no fun.
After we finished dining, I introduced myself to a group of men both young and old. All had cowboy hats hanging off the corner of their chairs, and every other man wore plaid. Their faces were as similar and serious as their choice of clothing. But I was right. I could foresee them to be too proud to back down. And I was too cocky and greedy to grant them mercy.
Two of them were family men. Their wives were chatting somewhere else, and their kids were sitting at another table, playing with their food. Every now and then, one of the children would come and sit on their father's lap and stay there until the urge to play and romp took over once again. The men as a whole were very wary of letting me sit down with them, but I beckoned Faleron over. The smart little brat seemed to get the idea and mounted my knee as if he were also a small son happily watching his father.
I didn't need to look to know that Yvenne was stabbing at her plate with a fork.
"Hey, young'un. How old are you?" one of the men asked. He had small eyes and a dark gray beard. A father of four, wife dead, and very fond of his grandchildren. Sucker.
"Seven," Faleron replied in a babyish voice just as I had expected. The squirt happened to be a good actor. He was small for his age. He could pass for six if he wanted to! I made a mental note to include him on other financial ventures in the future. You never know when a fake kid is needed to soften up the opposition.
While I dealt out the cards, the other men talked casually about recent events. A young man with a freshly shaven face squinted his eyes at me.
"Mr. Beech, I'm sorry. I didn't catch your first name."
I smiled. "Lucky. Lucky Beech."
Lucky son-of-a Beech.
"Oh. I don't mean to be rude, but you look kind of young to be a papa. How long have you and the Missus been married?"
I looked over my shoulder at Yvenne. Faleron fidgeted on my lap. I scooped him up by his armpits and set him on the floor. He ran back to Yvenne, acting like a little preschooler. It was perfect. "Ima and I got hitched back in high school. We just couldn't wait much longer, you see."
It took a big effort not to crack up at my own horrible inside jokes. After an hour, I had purposely lost fifty nobles, but gained two hundred fifty nobles cumulatively from all the men at the table. Faleron came back and tugged me by my pants leg. He had perfect timing. If I stayed too long and cleaned them out, I might have been caught.
"It was a pleasure playing with you fellas! Take care!" I bowed my head to them. I followed Faleron and Yvenne out. We huddled under my umbrella and made our way back to the hotel.
Yvenne smacked me on the back of the head. I let her. Any more dodging today and I might earn myself another suspicious comment. I grimaced. "What was that for?"
"I don't care if you con them, but don't involve him!" She pointed down at Faleron, who was counting the winnings.
"Why not? He has to pull his weight around here, just like us." I narrowed my eyes. "And when did you become his mother, huh?"
"Oh, I don't know," she sarcastically retorted, "you're the one telling those dunces we married young. You should know when we conceived him, oh master storyteller."
Faleron placed the money back in my palm. I pocketed it and glanced over my shoulder. The restaurant was behind us, but the men I had played cards with had a nice view from the front window.
"You might want to hand the umbrella to Yvenne and pick me up. I'm getting muddy from the knee down here and they're still looking," Faleron suggested. We stopped in the middle of the street. I had to hand it to the kid. He knew his stuff.
"You heard the little man." I shoved the umbrella handle toward Yvenne. She glared at me just as hard as she had earlier, except for totally different reasons. Faleron on the other hand, looked very smug as I picked him up. I let him hang around my neck and feet dug in around my waist as I halfheartedly tried to hold him up.
I groaned. "For cryin' out loud, if this is what being a father is, I'm never having kids. You're too little to weigh this much, squirt!"
"They're still looking," my female companion sang.
I let out a deep breath and sighed. "Let's just get back to the inn."
Increasingly richer, we returned to our room. My back was aching from lying down in the backseat. My knee was a bit sore from having seventy pounds of useless flesh sitting on it. My jaw couldn't relax after smiling time and time again for my audience. And to top that all off, my head still throbbed with warning flashes.
I was hurting. Sleep was in order. And to keep me asleep in this loud storm, some good ol' fashioned sleeping pills were, in this case, necessity. I went down to the lobby and asked the innkeeper if she had any. She did. While I waited, Bernin played with an imaginary friend around the lobby and the damned dog ran circles around my feet.
It takes a very in-control man not to suddenly spasm and to accidentally kick something orbiting his shoes. I was grateful when Bernin's mother finally picked up the Pomeranian and set him on her lap. I took her offered glass of water, downed the pills, and headed back up to my room.
Both beds were taken when I flipped on the light.
"Oh, no you don't," I said while pulling back the covers off Faleron's bed. He moaned in his sleep. I picked him up by his underarms again and placed him on the next bed. Yvenne awoke.
"Hey! First come, first serve, pal! Sleep on the floor, Vince!"
"I don't think so! I paid for this room, not you! I'm getting my own bed," I growled and dropped onto the soft duvet. I reached for the lamp and turned the lights off. Yvenne was too tired to fight back. She let Faleron stay where he lay.
The squirt did not budge. In fact, he began a tiny snore. In normal conditions, I would not be capable of abiding this, or Yvenne's grumpiness, or the raging storm outside. But you see, I had real sleeping pills. When I awoke tomorrow, I would not be half-awake like those poor boys in Styx. I would be rested. And happy.
Modern medicine will never cease to amaze me. I relish its profound effects. I revel in the fact that I live in this free world—free to take drugs that would actually do me good. Free to choose to take these little pills instead of being forced to swallow random capsules for non-existent illnesses. This wasn't Styx.
Even my dream wasn't Styx. It was a close representation, but still not the real King's treasure. It was like fool's gold. It glittered and shone as dully as that infernal institution. But it wasn't.
~~
The halls are empty. My footsteps echo on the pristine tile floor. The glare of the lights cause me to squint. Where am I going? When would I get there? Would I get there? My eyes hurt. I rub at them and blink.
Hmm. Since when are my hands so small?
I glance over my shoulder. There is a trail of bright red strawberry syrup on the floor. I like strawberry syrup. No, that isn't right. You're a kid again, Vinny, but you're not stupid. Oh, yeah. It's blood. Your blood. The remains of a metal cuff around my wrist clink when I shake my arm. The blood splatters in tiny drops on the floor from my arm. I had tried a bit too hard to get the metal cuff off, I think.
Silence. I look before me and behind me. No one is coming. Does this mean I actually have a chance? Where are the Gray Men? I can't understand why they aren't here, restraining me and taking me back to my ward. They ought to be here! That's what they get paid for, isn't it?
I sigh and trudge on. The hall lasts forever, but I'll get there eventually, right? I'm clairvoyant. I can see where the Gray Men will be waiting to catch me. And then I'll just go the opposite way.
My brain knows the way out. The way was only meant for me. That's why it's my gift and no one else's. Those boys never did anything for me. I tried showing them. We weren't living inside Styx. This wasn't living. Day to day tricks and tests… The confinement and isolation of the group... Did they listen to me? No! I tried. I've only got the time and guts to be looking out for Number One. Survival of the freaking fittest.
My feet move faster and faster. Before I know it, I'm running as fast as these little feet can take me. My chest heaves. I breathe hard through my mouth and hear the jangle of the twisted pieces of metal around my wrist.
There's a door. I have to know the password. Of course I know the password.
It's 'death'.
"You're very welcome here. Are you sure you don't want to stay, little Coram? Where else will you be safe from the world?"
I don't know. But it has to be safer out there than in here with you. I don't like you. That shiny thing in your pocket—it hurts. It stings and it bites like monster teeth. I don't like monsters. They're in my nightmares.
"I am a monster..."
The door to the outside opens. I step through without another thought. Anywhere is better than here with you. It's dark on the other side. This is the world? Is it always this cold and dark? Where's the sun? I heard there was sun here! Why is there a wailing and grinding of teeth?
~~
Pain.
I sat up from my bed, covered in cold sweat and breathing like I could never get enough air. My hand automatically went over my heart, as if claws had ripped at my chest to get at it and devour it whole. What's happened to me?
Get a grip, man. I closed my eyes and tried to calm my fevered gulps for air. Apparently, sleeping pills are no match for the dreams of the crazed. My mind was too strong to be dulled by modern medicine. My brain was beyond all medicine.
"Vince?"
I hadn't been expecting that. I gave a little gasp and jerked my head to the side. A bolt of lightning appeared in the sky and lit the window. I saw Yvenne's outline, also sitting up. I didn't need to see her face to tell that she was a bit concerned.
"Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you up," I muttered.
"Are you okay?" she asked. Her voice floated like glowing fireflies to me in the darkness.
I let out a deep shuddering breath. No. I wasn't okay.
"I… I had a bad dream," I said finally.
There was a rustle of movement. Suddenly, arms embraced me and a warm, soft cheek pressed against my clammy forehead. Fingers brushed up and down my back, trying to soothe and rid my body of its tremors. I closed my eyes.
Storms and nightmares. They're essentially the same thing. The storms come. They scare and harass with shows of lightning bolts and thunder. The strongest ones can wreck the foundations of your life, whether it's material or spiritual. They're torrents of energy, hurled down upon the earth to nourish it with water. And when it's done, the earth absorbs it in and becomes new.
I become new.
~~
Author: I hope you enjoyed that one! I was never quite sure of the whole mood of this episode, but I think it turned out decent enough. I'm quite aware that Vinny and Yvenne's fake names are a bit… odd. I think it's odder that I actually allowed myself to write Faleron pretending to be Vinny's son. Impulses. Sheesh. You know I hate them.
So, tell me what you think! Whether it is by review or email, feedback is very appreciated!