Shadows of Dawn

Chapter 2

I fly past the trees.

Only seeing blurs of green as I breathe heavily.

My legs carry me deeper and deeper into the woods, but from what?

I see a clearing up ahead and run faster. As I break through the tree line, I'm in front of my packhouse. The same big, brick structure, but something is different about it. Instead of it giving me this warm, welcoming feeling, it feels cold, creepy. Nonetheless, I ran inside.

As I open the door and walk inside I'm not met with my usual packhouse but a long white hallway, with bright lights lining the ceiling. I look down and I'm in my old gray sweatpants and black shirt, and my hands are shaking. I walk down the hallway and find my way to my old bunk room, but when I walk in, it's empty. I close the door and turn around. I'm frozen, petrified even, as I stare at him.

Still wearing his white coat, he still has his same straight, black, shoulder-length hair. His face is neutral and showing no emotion, he almost looks like a statue. My eyes scan up and down his figure until they land on his hand. In his left hand is a syringe with some green substance. He starts to stalk towards me and I take off down a random hallway, not looking back.

Once I think I'm far enough away, I look behind me and see that I've lost him. I look back down the corridor I came down as I start walking backward. I run into something, or rather someone. Suddenly I can't breathe, I feel like I'm drowning, with no surface to go up to. I slowly turn around and am met with Dr.Smith. His face contorts weirdly until only a sinister smile is left. He raises his hand with the syringe up in the air. I can't move, I can't run, I can't get away. So I scream.
•••••••••••

I being shaken. I force my eyes open and am momentarily blinded by the light of my bedside lamp. I'm immediately alert to who's shaking me. I slide my hand onto my side table and grab my throwing knife. Pressing it up against my assailant's throat. They back off, now standing a few feet from my bed. I blink my eyes a couple of times before realizing who it was.

"Why did you wake me up, Beta?" I question, slowly lowering my knife.

Sawyer looks over at me sympathetically. "You were having a nightmare," he announces the obvious.

"Ok, and? Me having nightmares is pretty normal, you should know-," I point out.

"You were screaming," he interjects, looking at me seriously . "I got worried. I thought you were getting hurt," he mumbles.

I get out of bed, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed, and stand up on the cool, wooden floors. Walking up to Sawyer, I can feel his anxiety through the pack bond. I give him a long tight hug to reassure him that I'm okay. 

"Can we go on a walk to the lake?" I ask.

"Isn't it a bit late to be taking a walk?" He replied as he looks out the window.

"I know but I can use it," I insisted.

He thinks for a moment before giving me a nod. I walk to my closet and throw on some black sweatpants, a maroon hoodie, and a pair of running shoes. I don't bother fixing my hair and just leave it in the messy, frizzy curls I woke up with. Sawyer is already by the door to my room when I come out of my closet and he also put on a jacket. We walk out of my room, down the hallways and stairs, and out the back door of the pack house.

We head to the woods in the backyard of the pack house and walk along a foot trail we have made over time. After what seems like forever of walking we reach the lake. Sawyer and I come here often when one of us can't sleep, or when we're having a bad day and need to calm down. We walk out from the line of trees and sit down right in front of the water.

It's peaceful outside. My thoughts aren't bouncing inside my head and I'm just in the moment. I look down and see a mirror image of a half-moon, as well as little dots scattered across the sky. We sit there for a while, reveling in the calming aura around us. Sawyer is the first to break the silence.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He pauses, "Your dream?"

I sign and pull my legs up until they're close to my chest and my chin rests on my knees. "I was back in the lab, Smith was there," I recall. Sawyer is the only person I talk to about my dreams. He's a good listener. He lets me rant to him as much as I need without interruption.

"I couldn't get away," I say indifferently. "I couldn't get out. I was terrified as always." If there was one thing I hated it was crying, especially in front of other people. It made me feel weak, so choke back my sobs and swallow the lump in my throat.

Sawyer scoots over and puts his arm around me. He didn't say anything, he doesn't have to. But I wouldn't blame him, I wouldn't know what to say either.

I find myself drifting in and out of sleep. Sawyer takes notice of this and lifts me off the ground, carrying me in his arms back to the pack house. I didn't want to go back to the dark where my dreams of Smith haunted me but all the crying drained me, so I succumbed to the darkness, again.