Kidnapped

Dreaming?

Everything is dark when I open my eyes again, but I know that I'm not with Mena and the others. Maybe I was there in body, but not in spirit or consciousness.

I have been here before. In this large, pitch black space. This space is the first place I came to the first time I lost consciousness in the alley. Everything was dark and quiet, peaceful even. I lay on my back, floating, since nothing is supporting my body. I float in place and my body turns numb after a while, but I don't care. In fact, I don't even mind, because I'm not uncomfortable. Comfort doesn't seem to matter in this place, as long as I don't care or mind. It's almost as if the place is rigged to make me peaceful, to make sure that I wasn't stressing.

My thoughts are no longer there and I'm allowed to float in silence. Beautiful silence.  Amazing silence. Different silence.

Different from all the times that I tried to block out other people's thoughts. It's an amazingly beautiful and delicious silence that I had craved for since second grade.

I float for a while, happy and serene. Then I start to notice a flicker. A white flicker above me, where the dark room, I presume, leads up. At first the flicker is just that, a flicker. A moment later the flicker is spreading throughout the room. The darkness starts to fade away and my consciousness starts to come back, slowly. The numbness around my body fades too and I can suddenly shift into a sitting position. 

What is going on?  

A voice interrupts my slow mind. "I will figure it out." Then just as fast my body is numb again, but I can feel my body being pulled backwards. The pull is more of a yank really, and I don't like it. My emotions come into play as I struggle against the yank and my heart starts to beat wildly. I have never moved, not once, in this dark space. What's happening? Am I waking up?

Waking up before never felt this violent. I just woke up, blind, but very aware of most things. But this didn't feel like waking up. It felt strange, like someone, or something, was pulling on a string that was attached to me.

No. Not me. My soul and mind. 

The dark space rushes by me, as my body sails backwards. Panic sets, but I don't react. All I do is watch endless darkness sail past me as my sluggish mind tries to catch up and figure out something to do. What can I do? How do I stop the panic in my heart and the yanking of an invisible string? How? I squeeze my eyes shut.

Suddenly it stops. Everything stops. I'm floating around, until I'm suddenly dropped. I feel myself falling down, but it doesn't hurt. I breathe easily, my body settling back against a solid, soft object.

"Finally," a voice murmurs, and my eyes snap open. I expect to be unable to see, but I can. For a long moment, I blink, moving my head around, taking in the new space. Or room, I realized as I noticed that I was sitting on a bed. A familiar room. My room?  "Yes, it's your room, Blake. Can't you recognize it on sight?"

The voice echoes around the room and I jump off the bed, since I'm not numb anymore. This is my room. The beige carpet, the pink wallpaper, the pink comforter, the black laptop on the cluttered desk. Everything. This really was my room. But who is that voice? Why is there a voice in my room? Why am I in my room?

"I pulled you in here, of course," the voice said. I step back, surprised at the answer. There was no one in here, at least from what I could tell. Something creaks and the door to my bathroom opens. A white flash greets me and I cover my eyes, the white light blinding me. Steps, and then, "Welcome. To your room." Male voice. Steps. I lifted my hand away from my face and watched as a guy came out of my bathroom. The guy wore a familiar-looking black hoodie, covering his face, dark pants, and black combat boots, that made an echoing noise as he walked out of my bathroom. The echoing noise stopped as soon as his feet hit the carpet and he was walking toward me.

I stepped back again. Was I actually in my room again? I held up my hand, hoping to threaten the guy off, and took another step back. My hand doesn't blaze like it's supposed. Instead there is only an empty feeling and pain shoots up to my head. I grimace and grab my head. The guy is in my face, already and I look up into darkness, almost like the one I had been in. Peaceful, strangely.Then he lifted his hoodie and I...I fell backwards onto my bed. 

Jeremy Clarkson.

"Jeremy?" I whisper it.

Jeremy's expression stays controlled while I gap at him like a fish. Did I escape and somehow end up back I my room in Saunders? "Wouldn't that have been more convenient?" I pushed backwards on my bed, still staring at Jeremy. "What I mean is no. You are not really back in Saunders. Sadly."

The odd comment doesn't pass by me. Was this jerk reading my mind?

"Jerk?" Jeremy scoffed.  "I may be a lot of things, but I'm not a jerk, alright Blake?" I try to move to answer Jeremy but, he holds a hand up. "And yes. I am reading your mind. In your dreams are the only time when I can read you, with your crazy walls always being up."

I do sit up then. "I'm dreaming, right now? I'm not awake?" I look down at my hands. There were six fingers there. I sigh. I am dreaming.

Jeremy pulls up my chair and sits down in front of me. "What's up with you and six fingers, Blake? Is it some kind of superstitious thing?"

I glance up at him, dropping my hands back onto my mattress. "Why do you keep on calling me Blake? My name is Geneva. You know it is."

"Names are very powerful in the Dream World, Geneva" Jeremy emphasized my name and an unbearable pain shoots up to my head again. As I move to grab my head, the pain stops suddenly. Almost as if I imagined it. "You didn't imagine it. Your mind just knows that I'm not a threat."

I glare at Jeremy. "Stop with the mind reading games, would you?"

He made a face, one that I never had seen being directed at me. Annoyed and irritated. "It's funny that you make that request, considering all of the mind fishing you've done to everyone you have met. Including me. Don't you think?"

I don't answer that question, instead focusing on the movements of Jeremy. The way he sat. The way he glared back at me. The way he sat straight in his seat and his hands folded on his chest. Everything seemed off about him. Off, yet very real. He didn't look or act like the Jeremy Clarkson that I had watched growing up, like the one who almost went on a shooting spree in school. No... he looked like the Jeremy that I'd see in my visions, wearing all black and confident.

"Who are you, really?" I whisper, but Jeremy has no problem hearing it.

His caramel brown eyes widen. "You saw me before?" I nod. He swallows and stares at me for a long moment. "My real name is Jeremy Clarkson. I'm just not the one you grew up with...fully."

I reach forward and my hand passes through him. There is only warmth where Jeremy should be. The warmth travels up my arm and spreads out through my body. I let out a breath and stare at him. "Why can't I touch you?" The warm covers me like a blanket. It felt safe.

Jeremy looks down at his body and swears under his breath. "I don't have much time. Myra must be getting tired."

"Myra?" I question.

Jeremy shakes his head and stands up, moving toward the bathroom. "That's not important right now. You'll meet her later on." He grabbed the door and opened it, looking into it for a moment. "Just be ready for change soon. And keep your mind open to me." He walked into the bathroom and poked his head out. "Just me, Geneva. Keep your mind open only to me." Then he disappeared and the door slammed shut behind him.

Did he really just disappear through my bathroom?

The white flicker was back. It started in the corner of my room. Then it zipped across the room toward me. I open my mouth to scream, but nothing comes out.