Chapter Nine:

Jenni finally pulled up to his house, and was shocked to discover how large it really was. It was a proper-looking, red brick house, and gates enclosed a wide area of land all around the building.

Well... it has been a while since I last drove by here, and I never actually came up to the house... she thought. It's so pretty...

Now came the hard part; waking up Willy. Looking at his sleeping face, she found it difficult to resist leaving him to sleep, just so she could watch him slumbering peacefully. It was better than seeing his strained expressions, his crying, his frustration, his pains...

No, she thought, shaking her head. It wasn't good to think about those things... it wasn't good for either of them. Hesitantly, she said, "Willy?"

He didn't answer, but continued to sleep.

"Willy?"

No answer again. But now, Willy had started to twitch a little in his sleep, like a dog having a bad dream. What's the matter with him? I hope he's not having another nightmare...

"Mom?"

Little Willy stood next to a bedside, his small hand gripping a larger one, a soft one.

"Mom? Please... talk to me..."

The hand became limp, and he started to cry.

"Mommy... please don't leave me alone... please..."

Suddenly, darkness flooded his vision, and he started to sob, feeling like a lost child. And in a way, he was.

"M-M-Mommy?"

"Your mother is dead," said a voice coolly, and he turned to see a stern face illuminated by a pale white light. It was his father. "She's gone, Willy."

"N-no," he cried, shaking his head. "She's not dead... she's just sleeping..."

"She's dead," he repeated, his tone becoming harsher. "Now get away from there."

"I'm not leaving Mommy!" said Willy firmly. "I'm going to s-s-stay with her!" Tears were streaking down his face.

"Foolish boy, get away from her!" he snapped, and he grabbed Willy by the hand and yanked him away.

"No! No!" he cried, struggling to free himself from his father's grip. "I'm staying with her!"

"Don't be a fool! She's dead, and there's nothing you can do to bring her back!" he yelled.

"Mommy! Mommy!" he kept crying, but he was powerless as his father pulled him away...

"Willy?" He still didn't answer. Now, he was twitching even more than before, and a look of distress had shown up on his face.

That's it, she thought, frustrated. She had to wake him up somehow, because apparently, he was having another nightmare. She had hoped that she could avoid physical contact, but she had no choice.

Jenni grabbed his shoulders and shook him slightly. "Willy!" she said loudly.

Willy jerked awake with a gasp. She instantly let go of his shoulders. He stared at her in alarm. "I'm sorry, Willy, I just wanted to wake you up..."

"N-no... that's not... that's not it..." he said weakly. He looked even more tired than before he had gone to sleep.

What's wrong now? His faced was flushed, but it didn't seem like it was from embarassment. Jenni put a hand to his forehead, much to his dismay again, and she sharply pulled it back after only a second. "Ow, you're burning up, Willy!"

"I... what?" he said, apparently in a daze.

"Willy, you've got a fever," she said, sighing, and she helped lift him out of the car. "What were you dreaming about?" she asked as they started to walk to his house, with Willy leaning on her for support.

"I... had... a dream... about... my mother..." he said softly. "When... when she..." His voice faded away.

"Willy, just don't worry about that now, you can tell me later," she said, seeing that every single word was a struggle for him and not remotely paying attention to his words. Finally, they made it up to the front door, and after Willy unlocked it with his key, Jenni couldn't help but marvel at the amazing sight that was his house. It was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen; there were plush red carpets, chandeliers hanging in almost every room, a large fireplace in the living room, and the pleasant aroma of chocolate. She helped him walk upstairs to bring him to his room, but then forgot that she had no idea where his room was.

"Er..." she said, staring at the numerous doors. "Which-?"

"Third door on the right," he answered, expecting her question. When they entered, she emitted a small gasp. His room was magnificent; there were beautiful, colorful paintings on the walls, and his bed looked large, comfortable, and inviting. She could see that his room led to a private bathroom and from a quick glance she saw that there was an enormous bathtub in it. He really has a luxurious life... she thought in awe, starting to feel a bit jealous and envious, comparing her posessions to his.

A small cough from beside her reminded her of the precious cargo she was carrying, and she set him down on his bed lightly. "Um... you have medicine in that cabinet, right?" she asked, and he nodded, coughing again.

Jenni quickly went into the bathroom, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw Willy slowly removing his shows and his jacket, then pulling back the covers on his bed and lying down.

She took a moment to regain herself. Every day is more excitement, huh? she thought sarcastically. It's always something... There had been a lot of drama these past few days, she realized, and she was surprised how calmly she had dealt with things compared to how other people would react. But even though she had been stuck helping him so much, she knew that in any situation of the two, he was always in more pain than she was.

A soft sneeze from the other room once again pulled her from her reverie, and she quickly dug through the cabinet. Finally retrieving a bottle and a small spoon, she shut the doors quietly and walked back into the room. Willy had sat up again, and was rubbing his eyes gingerly.

"Poor thing," she giggled, and she poured a small amount of liquid into the spoon. "Open up."

Willy did the sort of thing that you expected a child to do: he shook his head and pulled back from her.

"Willy, I'm serious."

He shook his head again.

I didn't want to have to resort to this... "Look, over there, it's a chocolate bar!" she said, pointing in a random direction.

"Where!" he said, and his mouth was open long enough for her to pop the spoon in. He frowned when he realized that he had been tricked, and Jenni wore a satisfied grin as he reluctantly swallowed it. "Ew... That was horrible."

"There's worse-tasting ones out there, I can assure you," she said, still grinning. "It was either take it and get better or not take it and feel horrible. Alright?"

He muttered something under his breath, but he nodded.

Jenni sat on the bed next to him. "So, tell me... what did you dream about?"

Willy looked at her with cautious eyes. "Um... I don't really want to talk about it," he said quietly.

She grabbed his hand, and he shuddered a little. "Please tell me. You might feel better about it if you talk about it. And I promise I won't tell anyone else."

Willy sighed, but looked up at her. "Well... I had a dream about... my mother this time... when she..." His voice suddenly broke.

Jenni put a hand on his shoulder, and stared meaningfully at him.

"When she died," he finished.

"I'm sorry... I hate to ask, but... how did she die?"

"I'm not exactly sure. I was really young, all I know is that she got sick, and she never got better," he replied. "My father never bothered to explain it to me, either," he added bitterly.

"Oh..." she said, slightly heartbroken. No wonder he had become so unhappy. "Did your mother..." It felt strange to ask the question.

"She loved me," he answered, once again expecting the question. "My father didn't, but she did. And the only happy memories of my life as a child are the ones that she and I had together."

Jenni felt like she was becoming his psychiatrist. "Tell me about your mother."

"There are so many things I could say... but... but it would take too long," he muttered, embarassed. "It's nothing, forget it."

"Willy, I have plenty of time. I'm all ears," she said, smiling.