Sincerely, Skye

Chapter Four: Falling

Chapter Four:  

I fell as if someone had punched me in the stomach and then thrown me from some high-up place; perhaps a cliff or a skyscraper. My breath was nowhere to be found, and I wondered if maybe I was suffocating at the same time. It was like those instances when you're on the brink of sleep, and then everything is spinning and you feel like you're falling, but then you sit up, take a breath, and it's over. But I kept falling, this time. I closed my eyes tightly, and it seemed to stop.  

When I opened them, I was in a soft, grass-filled meadow that was painted with dandelions. Blake stood above me, giving me a confused look. "Where am I?"  

I stared up at him, knitting my eyebrows together; I was so angry at him, but so happy to see him at the same time. The words that came out of my mouth surprised me. They dripped with a bitterness I had never heard in my own voice, "I don't know, Blake. Where the hell are you?"  

"What's the matter, Skye?" The boy sat down next to me as tears began to fall from my eyes. He wrapped his arms around me protectively as I wept, trying to comfort me like he always did. Blake was almost like a security blanket for me; he was always there. We sat for a while like that with each other, until I could breathe again, and he pulled away.  

"Skye," he said, "I have to go, but I'll see you soon, okay?"  

I shook my head in disagreement, "You're not leaving me, Blake. Not again."  

Blake smiled, "I am always with you."  

Then, he walked into the forest that surrounded us. I ran after him, but it was so dark and cold and I couldn't see. I screamed his name several times, but to no avail. The next thing I knew, someone was shaking me awake.  

*** 

"Skye!" a voice shouted my name in a worried voice, "Wake up! It's only a dream!"  

My eyelids fluttered open, and there I was, back in my room. How did I get here? I looked up to see my mother's face. She sat down on my bed and sighed, pushing my hair out of my face. Usually I wouldn't have allowed for that, but right now, I was in need of some comforting.  

"You were calling for him," my mother told me.  

"He left me alone," I said, trying to recall the dream that had felt so real. My mother sighed, and rested her hand on my shoulder, "Is something wrong?"  

"Skye," she said, her voice soft, "I'm sorry."  

"What are you sorry for?" I asked. I had so many questions; How long had I been sleeping? Where was Chris?  

She took a deep breath, "Skye, they found him."