Threshold (Old Version)

Chapter Twelve

“Listen, there’s no guarantee I’ll ever get out of this nightmare. There’s no promise that I’ll ever get to walk free again, or that I’ll even get to grow up. Just understand that I’m not gonna give up,” Malachi said solemnly.

My mind jumped to protest. The optimist in me wanted to reply with some assurance that good would prevail, but I knew deep down that it would just be lies. “No matter what?”

“No matter what. And you can’t give up either. If I’m going to have even the smallest chance at freedom, you’re going to have to do what it takes—no matter what.”

“What if—“ I stuttered, staring back into Malachi’s tormented eyes.

“No matter what. They’ve gotta believe you’re on their side.”

“But—“

“Scarlett, you’ve either got to do what it takes, or leave me to fight on my own. There isn’t another option.”

I struggled against the what-if’s and concerns, trying not to imagine what I would have to face. I knew Malachi was right—a halfhearted attempt wasn’t worth anything.

“I guess I’ll just have to fight too.”

We settled on the ground, our shoulders a healthy three inches apart. The kitchen gradually disintegrated, the pebbly beach taking its place. A campfire blossomed in front of us, the air filled with the crackling of wood and the scent of smoke. I was struck by how much more detailed the dream was than any other.

“They aren’t gonna give up either,” I whispered, breaking the lengthening silence.

“I know.”

“Do you know what they are planning?”

Malachi just kept staring, but the tenseness of his jaw told me that he had a better idea than I did.

Malachi shifted again before finally standing and pacing to the water’s edge. The imprint of two feathered wings glistened on the back of his shirt.

“I watched my mom die too,” I said absentmindedly. I tried to shake the out-of-nowhere awkwardness my comment brought.

“Yeah?”

“She had cancer, and it just got too bad.” I stared down into my lap, trying to push away the grief. My mind told me it’d been long enough to be okay, that I shouldn’t be so affected, but my heart obviously thought differently. “I spent months just watching her slip away. The fact that she stopped breathing one day just seemed like another detail of her journey towards death. She was gone long before.”

Malachi didn’t respond, but the tenseness lifted. It was hard to tell time in the dreamy state, but Malachi finally settled back onto the sand, on the opposite side of the fire from me. It cast ghostly shadows across his face, add to the solemn severity he always seemed to carry.

“Do you have any other family?” I asked hesitantly.

“I have a father somewhere. His family never spoke to us because the marriage offended them. My mother’s mother died of heart disease when I was four, and my grandfather was killed in a freak accident five months before my mom was born,” he rattled off the facts quietly.

“Were any of them like you?”

“A Dream Guardian? My mother. And my grandfather.”

“Oh,” I sighed, unsure of how to continue.

“Listen, Scarlett, it’s nice that you care, and I appreciate the attempt, but I don’t need a pity party.”