Intertwined

Chapter Eighteen

I'd been fighting with the word banshee since Lyall left a few hours ago. I laid wide awake on my bed, just hoping that sleep would find me. It was a petrifying thing to know what you were, even if you had no proof other than a few drawings. I tried several mind-numbing activities that didn't work. I played my music loud in my headphones, tried to write, I even tried to draw, but that caused more anxiety, so I stopped before my pencil touched the page.

I don't know when or how, but I'd drifted into sleep, a sudden calm taking me. I was sure it was residual effects of Marleene's spell, but I leaned into it. It worked and I drifted into sleep.

With a sense of deja vu, I realized I was sitting at the coffee shop back in Maine. I wasn't actually there and the deja vu came from not the place, but the dream-like quality of it. I could see everything with vivid color, hear the chatter coming from the other tables, and most definitely could see Marie sitting across from me, her face pulled in horror. Again, my body was seized with tension and her gaze flowed past me, onto whatever had been taking place behind where I sat.

My arms came up with haste as I cried for her, my yells having volume and the strain leaving burn in my neck.

"Marie," I cried, "Marie, I'm right here, look at me please. I love you, I miss you, please just look at me."

"Emerson?" she asked, the horror turning to confusion.

"Marie," I said, my voice breaking. I reached for her hand.

"What... What are you doing here? It's not safe, you have to go, you have to get out of here. There are things that are going to happen," she stopped for a moment, "I'm going to have to break it, I have no other choice."

"Not safe? What's going on?" I tried to turn but my neck was still stiff, unable to move, "I can't see. What are you doing? Don't go, I need you. Please, Marie."

Her face fell, an apologetic look to her eyes. "Emerson," she said, lifting her finger to my throat, a gesture I remembered. A gesture that would send me into agony, "I love you more than you could ever know but," her finger finally made connection with my skin, "You need to scream."

Instead of an intense burning that would set my throat ablaze and send me back to reality, everything faded to black. I waited, screaming empty sounds.

And then the colors returned. I was in a new place, no not new, I'd been here, grown here. This was my bedroom, back home, back with Marie. The bed was wrong and the ornate decorations didn't match what was up when I left for Duskfall. It was past bedtime, the only light in my room came through the cracked bedroom door.

"But why can't he come live with me? He's my son, I birthed him, I get to take him. He's mine, Marie," Rosie shouted, her voice was strained and ragged.

"You left!" Marie hissed back, "He knows nothing of you or your life. You do not have the specific qualities to care for him. He's not going anywhere and that's final."

"You're not mom. You don't get to decide what I do with my life nor my son's," Rosie screamed, her voice becoming louder as she walked closer to my bedroom. Her clunking footsteps shadowed the yellow light. I clutched my eyes closed.

"Don't you dare wake him."

"Let go of me," Rosie said, "I have a job now. I can take care of him. He belongs with me."

"And uproot his life? That doesn't sound right to me. You're being careless."

"I can get a house for him. Can you do the same? Look at the size of his room, it's basically a closet."

"Are you going to be able to handle it if it finally comes?" Marie bit. I could tell from her voice this was something she didn't want to say.

"What are you talking about?" Rosie scoffed.