The Dreamer

Chapter 9

The sunrise slowly streamed sunlight into the apartment. Britt awoke at seven feeling refreshed and ready to enjoy her day. She dressed and strolled into the living room.

          What she saw stopped her in her tracks.

          Her brother was slumped in the couch, hair disheveled and eyes wide open. They looked bloodshot with heavy, deep bags underneath. He looked asleep, with an expressionless face staring back at Britt. His eyes started to focus on her, and once he realized who was standing in front of him he shuffled, trying to salvage what looked like a disastrous situation.

          “Travis! What happened? Are you all right?” Britt rushed to his side and sat next to him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

          He shrugged her hand off and stood up, his back facing her.

          “I couldn’t sleep, that’s all. Bad dreams,” he replied as he started to pace.

          She stood up next to him. “Nightmares? About what?”

          “Just stuff! Okay? I don’t really want to talk about it. People usually don’t like to remember nightmares!”

          His aggression surprised her. She took a step back.

          He stopped his pacing and started massaging his head. He released a sigh and headed to his room.

          “What are you going to do about school?” She followed him.

          “I’m going. But first I’m picking up my prescription.” His door began to close.

          Britt threw her hand against the door and held it open.

          “You’re seriously going to attend your classes today? Look at you! Your eyes are bloodshot and your skin is as pale as a ghost! You are in no condition to go to school, much less drive!”

          He turned and faced her, anger showing through.

          “I’m not going to stay here! I’m going crazy as it is already! I have to get out of the house.”

          “You’re in no shape to drive!” she protested.

          “I’ll walk to the pharmacy, and maybe I’ll call someone to drive me to school. But either way, I’m not staying here.” He shut the door.

          Britt thought about arguing her case more, but decided Travis would be fine. She gathered her books, retrieved her purse and keys and left the house.

          From his room, Travis heard the front door open, then close a second later.

          He had to leave the house.

*        *        *

          The wind pushed against Travis, making him wish he brought a jacket. He was nearing the pharmacy in town, prescription in hand.

          His head throbbed, but he was sure it wasn’t because of the concussion. The words of the Fallen Angel throbbed in his head.

          You brought this on yourself.

          What did he mean? Physical torment? Mental agony? Perhaps a slow and painful descent into insanity?

          Travis shook his head, hoping to clear the thoughts. Instead, a burst of pain tore though his head. He stopped and sat down on a nearby bench, holding his head. After a few seconds, it subsided and he cautiously stood up. A few steps later, it returned, worse than before. He collapsed to the ground, wincing from the pain. Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes as he quickly rolled over and sat up on the edge of the sidewalk. Fortunately not many people were around, and those who were didn’t notice him.

          He forced himself to stand and he pushed the pain out of his mind and continued his journey to the pharmacy.

          Five minutes later, he walked into the store. Locating the sign reading PHARMACY, he made his way towards it. He approached the counter and handed the slip of paper to the lady behind the desk.

           She retreated to find his prescription. She returned and he paid for the bottle, grateful to have some relief from his head.

          Hopefully it would provide relief.

          Travis thanked the lady and left the store. Outside, he decided to call his classmate for a ride to school. If he attempted to drive in his condition, he would be putting himself in danger.

          As the number was ringing, Travis opened the bottle and tossed two pills in his mouth, swallowing. He tucked the bottle in his pocket as a voice answered his call.

          “Hello?”

          “Hey, Justin, it’s Travis Ryland.”

          The voice perked up. “Travis! How are you? I heard what happened? You alright?”

           “Yeah yeah I’m fine. I just can’t drive. Can you pick me up? I picked up some medicine and don’t know if I can walk home.” Travis paced outside the front doors.

          “Man, if you can’t walk you shouldn’t be going to class! I’ll take you home, but not to school. You need rest.”

          Annoyance stirred in Travis, but he held back. “You’re right. How soon will you be here?”

          Ten minutes later Travis was riding shotgun in Justin’s car. They arrived at Travis’s apartment shortly.

          “Thanks for doing this,” Travis said as he opened the door, preparing to get out.

          “Anytime. If you need anything, just call. I know Britt’s in class most of the day.”

          “Thanks Justin. I’ll see you soon…hopefully.” He shut the door and unlocked the door. Travis did not plan on staying here long. He only told Justin he would for Justin’s sake. He felt the medicine starting to work, and his headache lessened.

          Collapsing on the couch, he tried to think of some options for the day, options involving getting away from home.

          Suddenly a wave of weariness swept over him and his body ached with a need for sleep. He desperately fought it, but the struggle was futile.

          Slowly, steadily, he slipped into a deep sleep.

*        *        *

          He awoke, but not in his apartment.

          He was in an alley, nighttime surrounding him instead of daylight.

          Was it a dream? It seemed too real.

          He started moving, walking. But Travis wasn’t directing the actions.

          He was being controlled.

          By what? Whom?

          Why?