"Breathe in and breathe out, don't panic," I whisper soothingly and softly to a young boy that looks about seven years old. I don't see his guardians or his parents. My heart palpitations were going crazy. Wesley had Cass and that phone call was about Wesley and a bomb went off. Clearly somebody didn't want me to be around him. The once spotless floor with blue tiles were now littered with dirt and debris. Women, children, and people of all sorts scattered around. They ran about with their cell phones in utter chaos, running to the charger, lying on the ground crying. Some bloodied bodies lay near what looked like a huge hole. I didn't look in that direction and I turned the little boy away.
"I have --" he took a deep breath and breathed out slowly. "Asthma." Oh no. I scrambled to dig inside his pockets for an inhaler and look around. I didn't see it lying anywhere. I tried to not look like I was freaking out, but oh I was. I definitely was. I looked into his eyes and asked where it was as I tried to calm him down and told him to take a few more breaths. He weakly pointed in some general direction. A black duffle bag lay on the floor next to a man that was speaking some foreign language that sounded like Japanese. I ran towards the duffle bag and grabbed it, digging through it. I saw pens, post it notes, a pair of glasses, and I blinked twice when I saw the condom. Nothing.
"Keep breathing," I mumbled, stroking the boy's back. "Listen, you're going to be okay. You're going to be just fine, just believe that you are. You're safe." I looked into his eyes and he nodded, and he squeezed his eyes shut, trying really hard. But his body shook violently and he coughed and coughed. His eyes began to redden and blink rapidly. I wanted to cry. People needed help. The medic were coming, but they weren't coming fast enough. Not through an airport, not through this much dischord.
I leave the boy there and scramble through the crowd a little further, trying desperately to find his inhaler. I walk in the direction that he pointed, seeing a purple pencil case. It's contents were strewn across the floor. I picked it up, and inside, there was the inhaler. I grasped it tightly, running back, pushing people this way and that. I could've sworn that somebody called my name. Maybe Adrian. But not now. This boy needed help now.
"Is this yours?" I asked. I held the inhaler in front of him, hoping that he could see it clearly. If I gave him somebody else's inhaler he could die. He nooded almost weakly and I gave the inhaler to him, positioning it in front of his mouth. He took in a deep breath and then he breathed out. He was okay again. My heart slowed down just a little. Before he could mutter a thank you, I threw him a crazed smile and ran straight towards the direction of trouble.
People seemed okay, but an old woman was huddled in the corner. She had her hands on her ears and she was crying. I approached her with a calm and cool gait. If I panicked, other people would panic. "Do you need help?" I asked. She shook her head back and forth, pointing to her ears and covering them yet again. They were bleeding, and it wasn't going to stop. I didn't know what to do at this point. She had been too close to the bomb and it took away her ability to hear. Finally, I heard the sound of the medic rushing through. I took off my hoodie and gave it to her and left before I saw too much tragedy. Too much more than I could take. A man came by and assisted her right away. I had done what I could.
I walked away, shaking. What was the bomb about? Was a terrorist attack? Or were the people that were protecting Wesley Lazar doing a really good job at keeping me away? "Adrian?" I called out. "Adrian! Adrian!" He was nowhere to be found. Now I had a delusional Moroi running around an area where even I could barely remain calm. I found him in the corner with 3 other people. They looked like Moroi. He had them hidden away from all of the chaos. I looked at him, approching slowly, wondering what he was doing. He brushed his hand on a girl's cheek, and then a woman's waist. He was healing them. I stopped in my tracks about a meter away and I smiled. A new side of Adrian Ivashkov I had yet to know. He looked so serious. He knew was he was doing. The woman kissed his cheek and he laughed bashfully, throwing a flirtatious wink as the three people walked away.
"Hey." It was all I could say. Adrian ran his fingers through his hair. He looked perplexed now and he refused to make eye contact with me. People in the airport all sat cold in one place, waiting for what would happen next. Flights were grounded. Panic was arisen. At this point, it was like me and Adrian were stuck waiting here in the airport. Nothing to do. Screams still echoed elsewhere and people sobbed so hard it made me want to cry.
"Let's go get our stuff," he muttered and walked away, staggering towards the direction of the place we once were. Cute Starbucks girl still sat there, curled up and hugging herself. She was texting. But she looked lifeless. She dialed a number constantly, waiting for an answer. But there was no reply.
"Hey." She grabbed my arm and pulled me back, and I looked at her almost mournfully. "Did you see a redheaded guy with curly hair over there?" she whispered. Her lips looked pale. I shook my head. "Oh. He was on his way to see me," she mumbled. She looked like she was about to erupt into tears. She jumped out of her seat, running straight to the hole the bomb had caused. I remained silent and took my seat next to Adrian.
"What do we do now?" Adrian asked. He finally looked at me. He looked lost. I didn't like it when he looked lost. He looked so unsure of himself, so unlike the man he was when he was healing those Moroi. I blinked a few times. The medic seemed to have everything under control, and the noise level seemed to cease just a bit.
"I need to tell you what happened first." I was almost scared to say it. "Before all of this happened..." I took in a deep breath and tapped my fingers on my thigh. We were the only ones in the entire seating area. "The phone call I got, the guy on the other end told me to stay away from Wesley. And then we called Wesley and we didn't get an answer. Then all of this happened and now I'm freaking out and I'm not sure what's going on anymore." All of the words came out so fast and before I knew it, I burst into tears, faster than I could control myself. I couldn't stop it, once they came, they overflowed my eyes and spilled down my cheeks.
Adrian didn't hesistate one bit. He looked at me and didn't say a word and pulled me into his chest for a hug. He didn't let me go. I just sat there, frozen, and I cried. I kept crying. I didn't stop. I was losing it. I didn't know what I was doing but I found myself holding on to Adrian really tight. I took shallow breaths and I kept crying. I didn't force myself to stop and I just let myself go. Adrian didn't seem to care. Time seemed to stop. What was I doing? What was he doing? Cass. Wesley. The bomb. Dante. Adrian.
"Adrian, I don't know what to do anymore," I breathed. The tears ebbed just a bit, but my breathing was still a little too quick. I didn't notice what was going on anymore. I felt confused, and I questioned my conscience. What was right? What was wrong?
"You don't have to know," he whispered. "Don't think, just do it." And then he kissed me.
YOU ARE READING
Tell Me I'm Not Dreaming [A Vampire Academy fanfiction]
FanfictionI do not own this. Most of the characters belong to Richelle Mead, author of the Vampire Academy series. Emma DiCamillo is a 16-year-old dhampir (half vampire, half human) who's a bit of a smart cookie and is trained to kill Strigoi (dangerous unde...