Vanessa, Tommy, and Mary all grew up in the small town, but Poe, he was the outsider. The son of the English Professor, and he didn't fit in. Tight jeans, his dark hair always hung in his face. When he pushed his hair back, his eyes were the shade o...
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Falling back in bed, sleep happened before his head hit the pillow, but so did the nightmares. The entire day played over and over in his head until 2am, and he woke screaming in a cold sweat. His entire body was freezing, though perspiration dripped from every pore in body. Alone in the complete darkness, Poe sat on the edge of the bed whimpering like a lost child. He hadn't had a bad dream in years, and never one like this. Leaning into his hands, he rested his face against the palms only to feel the only warmth in his body. Tears seeped from the corners of his eyes as the emotions of the day came rushing out like a ticking time bomb. Whatever happened back in the house consumed Poe so deeply that he wondered if he was even alive. Maybe he died back there, and his body was too stubborn to lay down and except the fate. A soft knock on the door brought him back to reality.
"Son, is something wrong? We heard a noise from inside of your room," asked Jaxon.
Clearing his throat, Poe wiped the tears from his face before speaking. He couldn't allow any emotions to come through or he would be up all-night discussing feelings. That was the last thing he wanted.
"Sorry, Dad. Just a bad dream. Nothing serious. I'm going back to sleep now," Poe lied. God, the lying was becoming far too easy now. What the hell was going on?
"Well, if you need anything, you know where we are," Jaxson said. Footsteps lightened as the older man went back to his room, but in the back of his mind, he knew something was off.
Reaching for a bottle of water on the bedside table, Poe watched his hand wrap around the plastic, shaking like a junkie. I took everything he had to open the bottle, but when he brought it to his lips, the smell repulsed him. It smelled like someone bottled rancid vomit, but the water was clear. He had broken the seal on the bottle, so it wasn't tampered with. Once again smelling the liquid, the sudden scent was gone and nothing. Not a trace of whatever washed over his senses only seconds before. Taking a sip, he held the water in his mouth for a minute. Nothing. Not a damn thing other than water was in the bottle. It was at that moment that Poe realized he was sick. No way in hell was he going to school the next day. His mental health couldn't last a day in the presence of his so-called friends.
Laying back in bed, the covers pulled to his throat, Poe felt his need for sleep consume him quick. His body tortured with confusion; the rest of the evening went without event. It wasn't until the next morning when his mother tried to wake him that he realized he really was sick. Maybe a virus. Whatever it was, he was running a fever of 102 and his mother insisted he stay put. She would call the doctor for an appointment later in the day. Even when he protested, her authority won over and he just nodded before going back to sleep. At least there, his head didn't scream with pain.
"Poe, wake up," Silas whispered.
Dead asleep, the young boy knew that voice immediately. It was the guy in the room, but this wasn't that house. It was his house. His parents home. How the hell did that freak get into his house? Unable to open his eyes, Poe whimpered. He didn't want to know the truth. There was no way he wanted this guy to have access to his mother. What if. No. He wouldn't think about that. He couldn't.
A quick shake to his body, Poe opened his eyes to a slit. Standing over him was the face of an Angel. His mother. But that voice wasn't hers.
"Sleepy head, how are you feeling?" Lee Langley asked.
"Mom is that you?" he whispered.
"Of course, it is. You've slept all day long, but it seems like the fever finally broke," she said, the back of her hand resting on his forehead. Leaning down to kiss his forehead, Lee pulled back with confusion on her face. "Poe, you smell like a copper penny. That's odd," she added.
Yes, that was the smell from the car. An old copper penny. The scent that many confuse with blood. Why suddenly was the odor so pungent to him. Lifting his arm to his face, inhaling deep, a sudden churn forced the boy from the bed and into the bathroom. He never vomited, but the second he smelled himself all the contents of last night's dinner sunk into the toilet. Retching in pain, Poe cried with every twist of an invisible knife into his abdomen. Maybe he was having appendicitis. Yep, that had to be it. What other reason could there be for what was going on inside of his body?
Knocking on the door, Lee was worried. Only a handful of times had she seen her son sick, and it scared her.
"Poe, baby, are you okay?" she asked.
Using a wad of toilet paper to wipe his mouth, the young boy leaned back against the cold tile wall trying to form enough words to lessen her fears. He hated to see his mother hurting.
"Mom, it's just the flu. I will be fine," he whispered.
Hearing his bedroom door shut, Poe stood at the sink, looking at a ghost in the mirror. That wasn't his face looking back. He looked so old. So, defeated. Whatever happened to him infected his senses with a toxic memory. Turning on the water, he splashed his face to wash away any remnants of vomit. Patting dry, his eyes sunken, but his face back to normal. No longer did he see a monster in the mirror. He was sick, but at least he looked like himself again.
"The scariest monsters are the ones that lurk within our soul." Edgar Allen Poe.
