Alone • Liam Dunbar

Twenty-One

TW: blood and violence 

I'm aware that I'm dreaming.

Speaking to Liam about my family earlier stuck with me more than I realized. It made my mind linger on those unwanted thoughts and memories, and conjure up the image of my family's compound in the woods. 

I stand at the center of it, as if the large property hadn't been burned to ruins. The gravel path that travels across the land was beneath my feet, perfectly manicured. The heat of the sun peeks through the thick and lush trees, and for a second in time, the warmth of the rays feels real. Even the scent of pine that the wind carried made me feel as if I was really here, and not sleeping on the couch in the McCall house.

Old log cabins surround our clearing. The worn exterior gives the illusion of a simple and rustic life to outsiders, all of them none the wiser. In the distance, the crashing of a nearby river sounds, reminding me of the long days my mother would spend with me there, teaching me how to fish in the freshwater.

This was my home; our home. 

"Always got your head in the clouds." 

My body becomes rigid at the dreadful sense of deja vu that occurs because of the voice behind me. It forces me to realize that this was no dream, only yet another nightmare. 

I turn to face the voice's owner, finding my father walking toward me. His peppered hair was slicked back with sweat after being out all day, the heat of the afternoon getting to him as he wore his hunting leather. He smiles anyway, his brown eyes shining with joy as he comes to a stop in front of me.

This was the day I lost him, the day I lost all of them, and my mind wouldn't allow me to stop it. It forces me to relive this and play my part.

"Either the clouds or the mud," I respond as I had that day, my voice lighter because of my youth. 

My father chuckles and wraps an arm around me. Together, we walk toward our cabin that sits at the head of the clearing. 

"When will you take me on a hunt, Papa?" I ask casually, despite being anything but.

I had always wanted to go on hunts with him and my family, but since I was the youngest, everyone was always overprotective. All of my cousins had grown into young men and women, so I was the only child around, and they treated me as such. I learned how to fight and the history of the supernatural, as well as their weaknesses, but that was obviously different than actually being in the field. 

"When your mother lets me, my love," he replied, making me pout. 

My mother wasn't a born hunter. She married my father and became one by association, and she wasn't still a participant in all that we did. That made her more cautious when it came to how I would be inducted into the life, as not every mother can get around the idea of her daughter killing, even if for the greater good. 

If only she could see me now...

My father guides me up the stairs of our cabin's porch. He doesn't go inside yet, and instead approaches its railing. He leans against the wooden posts to stare out at our family's compound, a subtle smile on his face as he observes the scene before him. 

A few of my family members were outside, walking around or doing chores. Some of them were hanging laundry on clotheslines, or taking stray leaves off of the main path. To them, it had been just another ordinary day, with no pressing matters to attend to; blissfully ignorant. 

"You know, I can't ever really learn without some first-hand experience," I tell my father, coming to stand at his side. 

He chuckles, not looking at me.