Hidden Paths: Vampire Revenge

Chapter Fifteen

There were times Jake knew he was dreaming and times when he didn't. He was grateful for the times that he did know. And this was one of them. He saw himself in two ways, one from a third person point of view looking down on the scene and then another version of himself inside of the boy. He had dreamed that way before and at first it was disorienting but after a moment he couldn't tell the difference between the two points of view.

There was a boy with curly black hair lying in a big bed. His hair was matted soaking wet to his head. The room was dark except for a dim light from a lantern on a table across the room. The large wooden door opened quickly but silently. The boy tried to smile but had difficulty.

"There's my boy," he heard a deep voice say. "Doing well?" The dark figure asked.

"Poorly, uncle," the boy managed to croak out of his dry sore throat.

"Poorly? My god-son never does poorly, he's a fighter," the figure said coming closer. He sat down in a wooden chair next to the bed.

Jake could see his face now. He was a good looking guy. He was around Jake's age. He had long brown hair that was pulled back in a pony tail and the darkest black eyes he'd ever seen. Jake, as the boy, liked the guy. Loved him even. He wasn't really his uncle. Just a friend of his father's. But he was like a brother to his father and so, an uncle to his father's son. He liked when his uncle came around, he always had fascinating tales to tell. He traveled a lot and told him stories of the great adventures he had in other countries.

"I'm fighting, uncle."

"That's good to hear, Demetrio. Listen, son, I have to tell you that your father has lost the fight."

Jake felt the pain inside of the child. "Papa?! Papa's dead?! Like mother?" the child asked his eyes filling with tears.

"Not exactly. He's dead in a sense because of your mother. Hmm, let me try to explain it like this. Your father cannot handle the pain of the loss of your mother. He's forgotten himself. He's forgotten you."

"Forgotten me? How?"

"He's left. After your mother died, he just left. He left you here all alone. I ran into him in town. He didn't want to talk to me but I demanded to know where you were, as I learned of your condition. He said he didn't care. He said that his life was over with your mother and he was leaving. Of course, I told him I would take care of you while he recovered from his loss. He said that you were as good as dead. But you're looking better to me, dear boy. He said if you did live... he...he told me to keep you for good, Demetrio. He doesn't want a constant reminder of her."

"Papa, doesn't want me anymore?" the boy cried his chin trembling.

"There, there. You have to be strong, my son. Come, let's get your things and we'll go to my home. It'll be your home now. I don't want you here thinking of your father and what he's done to you."

"Alright, uncle," the boy said his heart breaking in a million pieces.

Jake sat up quickly in bed. He breathed hard. He grabbed the glass of water on his nightstand that he always kept for such occasions and drank it down quickly. Demetrio? Wasn't that the name of Tony's son? But the son had died. Why was he dreaming such things?

Jake rubbed his chest over his heart. It hurt like someone had put a knife through it. Such rejection. Jake had felt that feeling before. When his parents had told him he was adopted. He couldn't believe his real parents had just dumped him. He had never felt so rejected in all his life. No matter how much the town ridiculed him for his dreams and his predictions. He had never felt as rejected as he did that day. That must be where the dream was coming from, he thought.