It was one of those feelings where you knew you were dreaming, and you were aware of your surroundings. But it was also that kind of dream that you knew would turn into an inescapable nightmare.
The darkness I was enveloped in was ebbing away. I was holding a photo in my right hand, the one that I injured yesterday, but I didn't have a bandage on it now. I looked at the picture and it was a picture of a truck. Not only that, but it was the same big, black truck that my uncle had. Suddenly, I was pulled into the picture, and my whole world started spinning as the corners of my vision were blurred.
As I found my way on my feet a few seconds, I looked around, but felt strange evilness surround me. I felt someone touch me on my shoulder. That made me shudder, because it was the same kind of touch from my nightmare before. My heart started beating faster as I really didn't want to repeat what happened in my last nightmare. I ran towards the truck and opened the door and got in. I was in the driver seat and was holding onto the steering wheel for dear life. We weren't moving, that much I could tell, but a comforting feeling of safety resonated in the cab of this truck. It was so warm in here, inviting, and safe.
All of a sudden, I wasn't in the truck anymore, but I was standing in an unknown, dark, cold forest. I had no idea where my truck was anymore, or why I was here, but I had an odd feeling like someone was invading my personal space, even though I was alone the forest. The feeling was very bizarre, but then I saw a faint hint of a dark shadow in front of me. I was scared, and that was something I hated. The shadow wiggled around before me, until it was in front of my face in an instant.
I reacted fearfully, my hand forming into a fist and as hard as I could, I collided it with the shadow. The forest, the shadow, everything vanished as I felt myself becoming more and more conscious by the second. My hand actually tingled because of the punch.
That's when I finally woke up, with my eyes wide open.
I shot up from the bed I was lying in. Someone's big hands immediately brought me down by the shoulders, gently, as I blinked a couple of times to adjust my vision. I struggled against their strength, flailing my arms around to be let go. I tried getting up again, because I wanted to get out of the bed. Again, I was pushed down and this time a wise voice soothed me.
"It's alright." I looked at the man who said it. I'd never seen him before. "I am doctor Ratchet." He looked to the side.
What kind of a last name was Ratchet?
I looked at everyone else in the room, consisting of doctor Ratchet, Sarah, Will, and another person whose back was turned towards me. Doctor Ratchet, Sarah, and Will were looking at the mysterious man, who didn't want to look at me.
"She didn't inflict much damage to her head." Doctor Ratchet spoke to himself, checking the back of my head, but he didn't touch anything.
I looked at the man in black who turned to the side, holding his nose with one hand. Did I punch him?
"You sure about that?" A gruff voice, yet oddly familiar, came from the mysterious man as he responded to doctor Ratchet's comment.
"I didn't know you did martial arts in your sleep, Mel." Uncle Will chuckled. I saw nothing funny in this.
"I didn't mean to hit you." I told the man in black, waiting for him to turn towards me, as I started to sound apologetic. "I'm sorry-" The man turned my way, his hand leaving his nose to rest on his side. "Oh. It's you." I no longer felt guilty. It was the Intimidator, Ron Hide.
"I pick you up from school and you punch me in return?" He glared back, readjusting his nose. Wait. He? He picked me up?
I felt my cheeks go slightly pink.
"A rather impressive punch." The doctor stated.
"I can do better." I said, glaring at the audacious man.
"Alright you two, Ironhide, get out." Doctor Ratchet said and got him out of my room. I heard that weird name again.
"Why are you here? I mean, in my room. What happened to me?" I asked the doctor.
"Your uncle found you unconscious when he called me." He said, standing up from my bed as he looked at me kindly. "He was worried about you being on the floor and bleeding slightly from the back your head." He said. Wait, bleeding? I touched the back of my head and cringed at the pain. No kidding. I looked at my fingers, but there was no blood on them. "Was there something, anything, you felt before you blacked out?" He asked me.
Come to think of it... "Well, I don't know. I mean, I don't really remember." I said and looked at my bandaged hand. The doctor nodded and stood up.
"Keep me updated, Will." Doctor Ratchet said as Sarah escorted him and Ron down the stairs, and presumably, out of the house and the whole lot. He was already long gone when I remembered the strange tingle I felt in my right hand, right before things went haywire. I sighed as my uncle sat on my bed and looked into my eyes.
"Are you doing okay, Mel? I saw your punch, it flew Ir-Ron all the way across the room." He chuckled. I caught the stammering, but I didn't quite understand why he stammered. "I know you two don't see eye to eye, but take it easy, he's not as bad as you think." I gave him a 'you're joking, right?' look and he sighed. "He won't hurt you, Mel. He will never hurt you. If he did, he'd find himself dead before he knew it."
Oh, how comforting.
Nonetheless, I gave him a single nod and closed my eyes. The back of my head burned a little as I pressed it against the pillow behind me.
"Hey, uncle Will." I called to him just as he was about to exit my room. I opened my eyes to look at him. "What day is it?"
"It's still Friday. Have any plans?"
I shook my head and got closed my eyes again, hearing him leave my room and closing the door behind him. Could I even sleep after this? The nightmares were always there. I tried falling asleep, but never for long enough. After coming to terms with myself that I wouldn't sleep until the sunrise, I decided to get up out of bed. I didn't know what time it was exactly, but I wanted to get some fresh air. Continuing downstairs, I put my slippers on and a jumper.
I walked outside of the house, noticing just how humongous the black truck was compared to Sarah's champagne colored Malibu. I circled the truck, feeling a strange warm aura around it. Perhaps it was just my loneliness coming out from me, but seeing as nobody was around, especially Ron, I climbed up on the road armor on the front and sat on the hood. I didn't expect the truck to be warm, yet it was. Maybe it had some sort of internal heater? People did make new technology every day.
The evening was so tranquil and enjoyable. I usually didn't go climbing on other people's cars, but I liked this truck. It was big, warm and looked aggressive.
Putting my hands on the hood and caressing the impeccable gloss black color it had, it gave me a pleasantly warm feeling. I leaned on the windshield and looked up to the sky. I could see some stars, but there were only a few of them.
Which reminded me…
"Do you know any constellations, Ironhide?" I patted the hood beneath me. I thought to myself for a brief moment, how I could get used to this, spending calm evenings outside, on top of a leviathan truck that was oddly warm all the time... That sounded really relaxing to me at this point.
I was so lonely here. I didn't have anyone who I could tell my feelings too. Sure, I could always buy a diary and start writing things in it, but that was too open to intrusion. Anybody could just go into my room and read what was there. Talking to this truck, as oddly as it sounded, was better than not talking at all.
Suddenly, I yawned, knowing that this was my cue to go to sleep. "Good night, Ironhide." I patted the hood as I descended from the truck, going back into my room, and back to bed.
Three days later…
As hard as it was to believe, talking to the truck became an odd habit. Maybe it was a bad one, too, but as I thought before, it was actually comforting. All I knew was that as long as the truck didn't reply to my babbling, I was sane. The idea was somewhat reassuring, and I knew the truck wasn't judging me for me not shutting my mouth.
Tonight was just like any other night. Tranquil, a bit chilly outside, and a clear sky. I snuck out a little after midnight to lie down on the truck, after everybody had gone to bed. I brought the same jumper with me again, snuggling it closer to myself as I walked over to the truck. I leaned on the doors of the truck, enjoying the silence, bending my leg at the knee and resting it against the large step just beneath the doors. The silence was so wonderful and the safety that resonated from the truck, as odd as it sounded, was too inviting to go back to sleep just yet. I exhaled calmly, letting the tenseness of the day disappear.
"Shouldn't you be in bed, kid?" A gruff voice in front of me made me jump.
"Jesus!" I leaped from the step, looking at the man with the gruff voice. I brought my hands to my chest, feeling my heart pound harshly inside my chest from being startled. Did he really have to do that?
"Actually, it's Ron." He said in a 'matter of fact' voice, crossing his arms and leaning on the truck's doors as I moved away.
"Whatever." I said, crossing my arms. "What are you doing here?" I looked at him. He didn't reply. An awkward silence settled between us as I brought my hands together, intertwining the fingers and trying to warm them up in the cool night.
'He will never hurt you. If he did, he'd find himself dead before he knew it.' My uncle's voice resounded in my head and as if reading my mind, Ron spoke to me.
"I'm not going to hurt you, kid." He said. I didn't turn to look at him, I just stared at the ground, trying to get my thoughts together and form words. I should apologize to him for what I unintentionally did, meaning, when I punched him in my sleep. It was the moral thing to do. I don't know how much time passed while I was trying to form the perfect apology, but I started to feel my butt getting colder and stiffer. Maybe too much time passed, so I got up and went towards the house. I stopped and turned back, remembering that I shouldn't try running away from my problems. I walked back to the truck, trying to find Ron.
Maybe if I started a conversation, he'd be more willing to talk.
"Hey, how's your-" I opened the door of the truck, but didn't find Ron inside. "...nose." I sighed and closed the door. I leaned on the door and sighed, looking up towards the sky. I should have apologized when I had the chance. I'm turning into a selfish snob.
"Good night, trucky." If a truck could snort, I think this one just did. I went back to my room, silently praying that I wouldn't have nightmares tonight.
The next day…
"Uncle Will?" I called for him.
"Yeah, Mel?" He responded from the kitchen. I went towards him.
"Could you show me 'round town? I feel like I don't even know how to get to school." I admitted.
"Ron can take you."
"I don't think so." I shook my head and made a grimace.
"Why? He hasn't hurt you, has he?" He turned towards me.
"No, he didn't hurt me, but… I don't like him."
My uncle actually laughed. "That's because he's a hard-ass."
"I beg to differ." Ron suddenly came into the kitchen, crossing his arms and leaning on the threshold. Somehow, that was his favorite pose. I rolled my eyes at his remark.
"You wanna take her to town?" Uncle asked him.
"Uncle Will!" I hissed quietly. He smiled in return.
"If that is her wish." I was flattered at Ron's remark, but I was too angered by my uncle's question to let the feeling stay.
"No, it's not my wish." I told Ron. "And you, mister," I batted a finger at my uncle, "are in a whole lot of trouble. I'll walk to town."
"It's about three miles to town and it's the middle of December. You'll be cold." Uncle said.
"That's okay, I want to go. I'll have some time to think." Uncle nodded and I went for my jacket and phone and went out. It felt good to get some fresh air. I walked in the direction of my school, a long, concrete street before me just waiting to be walked on. I started my three mile journey to town. Normally, three miles sounds like a lot, but I had a lot to think of, and I needed some exercise anyway.
I searched my pockets and found some cash in them. Will and Sarah wanted to give me pocket money and wouldn't take 'no' for an answer. I eventually had to agree with them. Maybe I should buy myself a notebook, or something. Doodling in school notebooks was fun, but if I got a sudden burst of inspiration, I couldn't draw in a school notebook. I needed one specially reserved for my art.
Taking out my phone from my pocket, I went through my contacts, now holding three contacts in total, and called Robbie. What would he be doing on a Sunday afternoon?
"Hey Robbie, it's Melissa." I said, but his end of the line was silent. "The new girl from school?"
"Oh!" He suddenly remembered. "Hey there, Melissa. What's up?"
"I was wondering if you wanted to hang out, maybe show me 'round town? You're the only one I know here, anyway."
"Um, sure. Do you know where the café is at?"
"No. I just know where the school is." My hand covered my face as I turned red from the embarrassment. I hated when I didn't know things, like where a local hangout was. I felt like such a tourist.
"Okay, you wanna meet by the school? How long will it take you to get there?" How long? Well considering I just left the house, I turned around to see, but the house was no longer in sight. It looked like I covered more ground than I thought.
"Yeah, that'd be great. Maybe, in an hour?"
"Sure. I'll meet you by the entrance." He hung up and I actually started jogging towards town. I just felt the need to, because I missed running and action. I had almost no physical activity in the past two months, ever since the accident. I easily got to the town, jogging at a very light pace. Once I reached the entrance to the town, I resumed with walking towards the school, I took my time and slowed down my breathing.
Now, on which streets did uncle take turns when he drove me to school? I started walking around and after a good twenty minutes of walking and exploring, the school came into view. I looked at the time on my phone, and I had about 10 minutes to spare, so I got to the school entrance and sat on a nearby bench. It wasn't long before I spotted Robbie, who had a friend who tagged along with him.
"Hey, Robbie." I said and looked at the guy next to him.
"Melissa, this is Dean Peterson. He's my best friend." I shook hands with the guy. "This is Melissa Lennox. She's Captain Lennox's niece." He added.
"Really? That's so cool!" He said, clearly amused. Maybe my uncle was a big figure here or something.
Dean was very nicely built. He was slim, and nicely dressed. He had brown eyes and short brown hair, kind of looking like my uncle's. And he was cute, with dimples in his cheeks every time he smiled. He must have been the cutest boy in this small town.
"Let's head to the café. Mel here needs a tour." Robbie smiled at me and I smiled back. We were walking and I was trying to memorize everything the town had. The little streets, cafés, parks, shops and all that. Not that the town had many of them, but I still needed to know where certain places were, and at least I could memorize the names. We stopped walking and entered a café called 'Dreamland'. It wasn't really anything special, but it kind of reminded me of bistros.
A good thing was that it had an ice-cream fridge, and the very moment I noticed it, I felt the urge to eat ice-cream. We sat at a table, and Robbie and Dean started talking about something. I eyed the menu, but decided I was just going to have a chocolate and raspberry ice-cream. It was my favorite combination of flavors, and it reminded me of… home.
I stared blankly at the menu for a moment.
"Everything okay?" Robbie asked, as he caught my distant look.
"Yeah, we're good. Ready to order? I'm gonna have some ice-cream." They looked at me confusedly. "What?" I felt slightly uncomfortable.
"Melissa, it's cold outside." Dean said. I looked at the window and it was actually befogged. It wasn't so cold before.
"Is the hot chocolate any good?" I asked meekly, though I was a bit embarrassed. I didn't see what was wrong with having ice-cream in December. I did it in Texas all the time before… but I guess this isn't Texas, and the people here in Nevada are different.
"Oh, they have the best hot choc here." Robbie said and Dean nodded in agreement.
We all ordered hot chocolate and waited for it to come. When it came, it looked almost like pudding, like real hot chocolate should, and it even had whipped cream on top. All it needed was a cherry on top of the whipped cream and it'd complete the look. We all took our mugs and blew cold air into our drinks and soon the conversations started. About school, of course.
We were halfway to getting our drinks done when I saw a strange man walk into 'Dreamland'. I didn't pay attention to him, so I looked back at the boys. It was very fun to watch them talk and laugh. The man approached us and I recognized him, a frown setting itself on my face.
"Melissa has to go home." He said blatantly and the boys immediately shut up, taking the hint. Honestly, he was rather frightening, even when he didn't try to be. Or, I guess he wasn't trying to be.
We all paid our share of the bill. Rob and I clapped a high-five while Dean took my hand into his and kissed the back of my hand. I felt my cheeks blush. Dean actually chuckled and if possible, I blushed even more, with a strange feeling of excitement in my stomach. Ron groaned aloud and the boys went out of the bistro rather quickly, as to not get into any trouble. Ron and I walked out towards his truck.
Once the boys were out of earshot, I turned to Ron just before we entered his truck. We were standing near the driver's door when I felt my anger wanting to come out. "What is your problem, Ron? And why are you still using my uncle's truck?" I glared at him and crossed my arms.
"I don't have a problem. And the truck?" He glanced at it. "It hardly belongs to him." He snorted, mimicking my actions and leaning on the truck.
"What do you mean 'hardly belongs'?"
"It's a military vehicle, it hardly belongs to anyone." He huffed. "Get in the truck."
"No." He glared at me seriously. I shuddered slightly at such a mean look. "Okay, fine." I got in the passenger seat and slid the seatbelt around me as he began to drive. I really didn't want to be in this guy's presence. He was making me feel really tense and nervous. The sooner I got home, the sooner I'd get away from.
After twenty minutes of driving, I got out of the car posthaste and into the house. It was raining and I had to sprint in order to not get wet. As I got in the house, I saw my uncle playing with little Annabelle on the floor with her colorful red and blue toys.
"Hey Mel, how'd it go?" He asked, taking Annabelle in his arms as stood up from the ground.
"It was going just fine until Mr. A-hole came in and ordered me to go home." I looked back at the truck, alluding to Ron being the asshole. I wasn't going to swear in front of Annabelle.
"Really?" He was disenchanted.
"Yeah, I was just talking to my friends in 'Dreamland' and he had to come and say 'Melissa has to go home'. I mean, what is that? I'm not 12 years old." I complained, and it oddly felt relieving.
"I'm going to have a talk with him."
Maybe that would just cause more trouble for me. What if, after my uncle talked with Ron, Ron would treat me even worse?
"No, don't." I muttered. "He must have had a reason for bothering me." I said and sighed. Was I actually defending the guy now? No wonder men thought women were too complicated. "I'm gonna head up." I said and went upstairs. I remembered I didn't buy a notebook while I was in town, so I decided to rip a paper from one of my notebooks and sketch. There wasn't much I could sketch anyway, so I got to the window pane and looked out the window.
A truck would be a fine challenge.
I must have spent hours taking references of the truck, because in the end I had to squint to see through the darkness. I sighed and left the paper. The sketch looked pretty damn awesome, if you asked me. It looked very precise and provided a unique, bird's eye point of view, of the truck. I took my phone out and saw the time. Seeing that it was almost 11 in the evening and it was time to get dressed and go to the truck, to go stargazing and let out some of my frustrations through speech.
After putting on a warm jumper, my pajamas and thick, fluffy slippers, I walked down the stairs in a quiet manner. I heard that the TV was turned on in the living room, but Will and Sarah probably forgot to turn it off before going to bed.
I wanted to turn off the TV, as I was always a person that preserved energy, but before I did that, I listened to the news.
"We may be facing an invasion of giant alien robots that came out from our atmosphere…" The TV reporter babbled, but I did want to know what they were talking about. They showed pictures of some big, moving shadows and a lot of damaged buildings, that apparently these 'things' caused. I shrugged, thinking that this was nothing more than a bogus story to keep people watching a specific TV channel, as nothing special regarding politics was going on at the time being. I turned the TV off and exited the house, walking to the beautiful black truck.
I sat on the ground in front of the truck, and hummed some melody to myself. I thought about the aliens the TV reporter mentioned. What if it was more than just a bogues story? Alien invasions weren't something TV channels were even supposed to broadcast. I guess aliens were a taboo topic to TV reporters. But that made another question rise; were any of us in danger? Before I could continue with my conjectures, a voice shook me from my thoughts.
"Why are you sitting on the ground?" A manly voice said, and I turned my head to face him, but he was sitting on the roof of the truck. How'd he get up there anyway?
"Are you my personal stalker, Ron? Where'd you come from, anyway?" I looked at him, annoyed, not leaving the ground. I was certain I was here alone. He pointed to the truck beneath with his finger, as if that's where he came from. "What do you do, sleep in it?" I asked him.
"Maybe." He said coldly, descending skillfully to sit on the hood of the truck.
This guy is insane. With his behavior, he might as well be from another planet.
There was a moment of silence between us, where I didn't want to speak to him, and he didn't know what to ask me.
Then somehow, he broke the silence. "I see you're always around the truck." He suddenly said and I looked up at him. His blue eyes were so entrancing, they almost seemed like they were glowing in the dark. "May I ask why?" A strange aura of kindness erupted from Ron. I was so pleasantly surprised.
I thought about how to answer this question. "Well, the truck is beautiful." I said honestly, looking at the grille of the truck. "And it's always so warm. And I guess there's just something odd about it all." I said, looking at him. He seemed so much less aggressive now. He seemed like a person you could actually talk to.
"How do you mean?" He asked.
Well, this was going to be awkward to explain. "Sometimes I feel like this truck is protecting me."
"Maybe it is." Ron said, trying to allude to something crazy.
I snorted. "Of course it's not, Ron, it's just a truck. But I guess it's just comforting to believe that after what I've been through." I crossed my arms, half-hugging myself as I looked to the side. I couldn't even stargaze anymore, as I wasn't alone anymore out here.
Suddenly, Ron spoke up again. "Here, get up." He offered a hand, as if to pick me up to sit beside him.
"My ass's already cold, so what's the difference." I said morosely. He sighed and descended from the hood, coming to my side and crouched beside me. I ignored him by turning my head to the other side.
"Melissa…" He tried.
"I'm not going to bed and I'm not going inside." I looked towards the sky, but it was ugly tonight. It had no more stars in it. With my current attitude and crossed my arms, I was more than ready to negate whatever he had to say. Suddenly, but slowly, he put his hand on my shoulder and sighed.
"Do you want to talk about it?" He offered.
He mistook me, but I shook my head and bit my lower lip. It was hard enough just thinking about it. Did he even know what happened to me? I don't know if Will told him...
While I was debating that, I realized that was silent for too long.
"Will you at least sit in the truck?" He asked, looking into my eyes. "Your uncle won't be happy with me if you get sick."
How thoughtful.
I got up and brushed the dirt off my butt and got into the spacey back. Ron got in the driver's seat.
The cab was surprisingly warm inside. I expected it to be cold until the engine was started.
Soon, it started to rain outside. This all too reminded me of the day my world went black. I don't know if it was because of the depression, the feeling of being lonely and alone, or just because of the warmth of the cab and him being the only person to talk to, but I just felt the need to open up to someone. Why'd I pick Ron of all people to open up to?
I tried pushing the feeling away, telling myself that I was strong without pouring my heart out to someone. But, honestly, it's been two months how I haven't told anyone about what happened. It's been two months how I've been hiding my depression, loneliness and bad mental state.
And there was just something about a very strong guy with blue eyes and this black truck that made me feel that confiding in him was safe.
"Hey... Ron?" I almost whispered. He turned around in his seat, as I had his full attention. "Have you…" I started, looking to the side. Should I tell him? I don't know. I looked back at him and his blue eyes wordlessly told me to go on. "Have you ever seen a tornado?"
And just like that, the story poured from my mouth.