Chapter Five

I was being enveloped in a heavy mist, and time itself felt like was being dragged along the ground. Walking slowly, I navigated with my hands outstretched, afraid I was going to bump into something in this strange, empty space. It went on forever, and I tried calling out, but it seemed to be devoid of anything. I couldn't really even figure out how I was able to walk, as it seemed there was no floor. The air was stagnant, and I began to feel the humidity spike, and the air warmed up rapidly. Sweating, the heat clung to my skin, and I found it harder and harder to breathe. The mist seemed thicker, and I realized it was smoke. The heat soon became overwhelming. My head swirled, and my thoughts didn't make any sense anymore. What was this? Why was I here? Again I tried calling out for help, for someone, anyone…I wasn't going to make it much longer….

Unexpectedly, I felt a coolness across my forehead, and soon it extinguished the heat and the smoke around me. I gasped loudly for air, thankful to breathe again.

Everything went dark, but I was aware of myself. My vision gradually came back, and I made out the end of my bed, while the moon was gleaming bright through my window. However, I soon made out a figure sitting on the right side of me, staring me down. The room was very hazy, and I thought I saw smoke winding along my walls and up over my blanket. Maybe I was dreaming, maybe my room had been on fire. Or my room had been that blank void. Everything still was jumbled, and I wasn't sure if any of this was real or not.

The figure on the bed came into view, even though I couldn't open my eyes all the way.

It was Valentine.

His mask was off, and his makeup was already washed off, unusual for him.

Or was it Terry?

"Terry!?" I asked with alarm. My voice was still weak, so it barely came out of my mouth at all.

"Terry?…I believe the name you're looking for is Valentine."

"Valentine!" I tried to sound excited, but I still couldn't trust what I was seeing or hearing. Smoke started to whirl around him, and the heat came back for a minute. The refreshing feeling returned as his arm reached up and touched my forehead.

"Do you feel any better? Your not looking so good." He questioned me, his voice dropping low with anxiety.

"Yeah, thank you for making the fire go away," was all I could think of to say.

His face soured.

"So are you here, or are you not? I'm not even sure I'm in my room…"

"Hmm. Helena…I'm afraid I'm not…here."

I frowned. I really wanted him to be here. This dream was annoying the hell out of me.

"You need to get some rest. I'm sure if you sleep you'll feel better." He mumbled quietly.

I felt his hand touch the side of my cheek, and he smoothed a lock of hair that was in my eyes. I smiled, but I instantly felt exhausted. Closing my eyes, I struggled to say goodbye.

"Why don't you stay? I don't want this to be over yet." I incoherently muttered.

"Sleep." He insisted.

I finally shut my eyes, and allowed the haze to float over me as I fell asleep.

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He got off her bed, assured that she was too worn out to try and fight off sleep. Valentine carefully slipped the damp washcloth from her head, and walked to the bathroom with it. Turning the tap, he let it soak in cold water before turning it back off and returning back to Helena's room, gently placing it back on her forehead.

"That should do it." He said quietly, so she wouldn't wake up again.

After making the decision to come back and find Torrey, Valentine reluctantly picked the mirrormask out of his pocket, and used to return to Helena's world, preparing himself by changing clothes and removing his mask beforehand.

This time it had plopped himself down in front of her bed, but she hadn't stirred from the sound of him dropping on the floor. It was dark, night time. She was supposed to be sleeping. Peering over her quilt, he noticed she was talking in her sleep, and sweating profusely. He tiptoed to her side, touching her forehead with the back of his hand, pulling it away in shock as he felt a burning sensation. She was very sick, and her breaths were becoming increasingly deep and raspy. Racing to the bathroom, he snatched a blue rag that was folded over a towel rack and ran it under some cold water. He then went to her bedroom and laid it on her forehead. That was when she had woken up, and in a confused manner, attempted to talk to him.

She had called him Terry, and for a minute Valentine thought she had said Torrey. That spooked him, but it was Terry, and he thought maybe she was referring to someone else. To comfort her, he corrected her, as the way she said Terry sounded like she was afraid of this person. She had seemed delighted when he mentioned himself.

Valentine was puzzled, however, by the fire she had mentioned to him. She was on fire? It must be the fever, he thought. It was raging out of control. Hopefully the wet rag was helping. Although, he didn't mind that it was messing with her train of thought, making it seem like she was just dreaming. It would be better if she thought he was just a figment of her imagination, because he could not stay very long. He'd come back later, to check on her one last time, but his priority was to go get Torrey and bring him back to his world, before anything else happened, to Helena or anyone else.

Standing back, he watched her, listening to her breathing become slower and more even as she slept. Satisfied, he moved closer to the window, and unlatched it.

"Goodbye." He whispered hoarsely, and plummeted out the window.