Haven

Chapter Twenty Eight

My early bedtime, demeaning as that is for an almost adult, didn't trouble as much as it should have. Mostly because after a horrible day that ended in MY tears, I was just as happy to go to bed and sleep.

Unfortunately my mind had other ideas, I had one of those nights where you feel like your awake the entire time but your not. And when I finally did actually sleep, I was tossing and turning, my mother's face haunting me.

I woke up multiple times, feeling horrible and unsettled, with this feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach. Don't get me wrong, my mother has been the sole cause of that dread on many occasions, but she had no reason to be causing now. So I couldn't shake her, all night I was tossing and turning.

Finally I started to dream a happy dream, despite the fact that Beka was still in it. It'll serve as no shock that I'd had this particular dream on multiple occasions too, but luckily this one was usually happy. I was young, not a child but young, maybe 11 and she was in one of clean phases of trying to win me back. Thus, she brought me shopping, bought me new shoes and a winter jacket. A black Nike puffer which was all the talk at the time, and it did keep me warm from the brutal New York winter.

We'd had McDonald's, and hot chocolate and I remember feeling so happy that she was gonna rescue me. Usually around the time we got back to her place and started watching movies snuggled up in blankets was when I'd wake up from this dream, but that night it carried on.

When I looked up, her eyes were rolling in the back of her head, the syringe in her arm and the pimp standing over us with an evil grin on his face. Suddenly, I was 3 years old again, cold and frightened and mommy wasn't waking up.

He reached out to grab me, his hands shaking me and just then I woke up. Sweaty, shaking and instead of that scumbag standing over me it was Alex, sitting next to me in my bed gently shaking me awake.

I looked at his face, a look I'd never seen before. He looked nervous, and guilty and sad. Like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Had I been screaming? Is that what attracted him? Was the first thought that crossed my mind. But I dismissed it quickly, knowing exactly what it was. The dreaded feeling in the pit of my stomach reared it's ugly head again. Or maybe it had been there all along, but I felt it again as I stared back at Alex.

I figured he wasn't going to say it, but I didn't need him too. "She's dead." I say, my voice coming out as a whisper.

He breaks eye contact for the first time, and that was all the confirmation I needed. I look down to shaking hands, a pang of hurt hitting me right in the chest. Before this weird numb sensation filled my entire body, like I was empty.

Alex gently takes my hands in his, and I want to rip them out and roll back over and go back into the dream, the happy part. But I don't.
"Jasmine identified her just less than an hour ago." He tells me, and I watch his big hand squeeze mine, me nodding along.

I let out a deep breath, and with it goes the dread in my stomach. "She overdosed?" I ask, looking back up to him. I wanted to tell him I was okay but it felt dishonest. I had no idea what to feel. But I didn't feel okay. And so, I didn't tell him I was.

He nods, almost imperceptibly. "It looks that way, the paramedics found her with a syringe in her arm." He tells me, and I nod, just like in that dream. "Jasmine wants to come and see you before anybody goes into her place, well other than the cops." He tells me and I shake my head.

I look back up to my dad, who looks about as torn up as I feel. "Why?" I whisper, feeling tears threatening for the first.
"You get just as much say in how this proceeds as Jasmine, and those are her words." He tells me, and I shrug, well okay.