Dreamer

Explanations

I woke up with a jolt, breathing in sharp spring air, thinking that it must be about four in the morning and that I needed to get going before the soldiers came rushing in again for another raid. For a moment my thoughts jumbled together, and then they separated; the reality of yesterday suddenly sinking in. The flower-covered blanked had knotted itself around my legs during the course of the last night. I rolled out, wincing as my sore muscles stretched out. I felt absolutely filthy as I glanced down at my palms, which had been wrapped in white gauze, dirty wrists standing out against the fabric. I must have gotten myself cut when I fell after the explosion.  My bare feet brushed a smooth wooden floor, and I glanced around to see my converse neatly placed by a large wooden door. As I stepped across the room, I caught sight of my face in a round mirror by an old-fashioned sink next to my bed.

My skin was bright pink and peeling, an aftereffect of trekking around with the mysterious group the day before. I turned on the tap and lukewarm water rushed out. I washed my face, ignoring the burning sensation it caused, and then felt relieved when I saw a white t-shirt and a pair of jeans laid out on the ground by the window. I made my way over, and my fingers brushed against the fabric of the curtains, fascinated by how silky they were. I quickly changed- the shirt was a tad too big in the, erm, chest area, but other than that it fitted fine. The jeans were a tad to long. I assumed the clothing was from the blonde girl. I ran my fingers through my choppy hair quickly, and then pulled back the curtains, breathing in an old, musty scent with the slightest hint of vanilla.

I gasped.

The sun was just rising over a large, mountainous ridge. Spreading out below me was a huge, Victorian era city. People rode around in carriages like they weren’t in danger of getting killed or maimed by the New Order at any moment of the day. We were clearly in what used to be the shopping area, but it had managed to transform into some sort of old-style region within a month. Where were we? It was beautiful, yes, refreshing after the grungy, bloodstained alleys I had lived in; but there was some sort of silent, scary presence lurking around, like a storm cloud over a sunny beach. I flung the windows open, and breathed in that fresh, “it just rained” smell. Then I turned around and, deciding to go barefoot until I hopefully got some better shoes, cautiously pushed the door open and stepped out.

A long hallway stretched out in front of me, and at the end of it there was a spiraling staircase. I passed a few shut doors on my way down the hall, and heard the sound of soft breathing come from quite a few. I trailed my hand behind me on the railing as I slowly walked downstairs, my eyes adjusting to the slight darkness compared to the amount of light that the sun had created in the room I had slept in. I found myself gravitating to a warm glow coming from a room directly in front of where the stairs ended; probably because I had watched too many horror movies where idiotic girls went into the dark shadows of old houses.

As I stepped in, I realized it was a sort of kitchen-dining room combo, painted in some soft shade of blue. A lamp sat on a dark wooden table, its flickering light sending shadows across the wall. At the table sat one of the twins, and the light flickered off his hair, hinting at shades of brown-Jon. His eyes were shut, his head lay almost gracefully across the tabletop; one hand resting on a page in an open book, the other providing a place for his head to rest against. His eyelids were fluttering rapidly, long eyelashes casting shadows across his sharp cheekbones. His breathing was harsh, his face tense. When he jerked sharply, but didn’t wake up, the look on his face pained, even pleading, I couldn’t help but gently reach forwards through some primal instinct and shake him awake.

His eyes snapped open, filled with absolute terror as he jolted awake as soon as my hand brushed his shoulder. I jumped back and he noticed me. He buried his head in his hands as he apologized profusely, shaking horribly and looking almost gaunt.