The Sick Boy (#JustWriteIt)

3.

The boy named Alistair never left my dreams last night. All night, I heard him laugh and talk, scream and curse as if I was watching him. Although I was the one with watching the impromptu show, the feeling of someone watching me in my sleep made me toss at turn all night.

I wake up to the sound of shuffling in the room. I lie still with my head hidden under the pillow, my eyes widen at the light noises and I try to control my breathing. Ever so slowly I push the pillow away from my eyes and look at the red glowing numbers on the clock. It is just past three in the morning, everyone should be asleep. Of course, leave it to me to stay in a house full of murders! Luckily, this bed is plush enough for me to practically sink into it. For a second everything stills, and I can't hear anything, not even the chirp of the crickets outside.

I take a silent breath trying to calm myself from the unexpected fright. It must have just been nerves, being in a new place and staying in a house of people I just met is messing with my head. Dismissing the noise, I slowly close my eyes getting ready to drift back to sleep when a rush of frigid wind hits me like a sack of hammers. The blankets are ripped forcefully off my body. I opened my eyes coming face to face with a pair of almost familiar ice blue eyes and deep black hair. The stranger doesn't get a word in edgewise before I start screaming bloody murder causing the stranger let out a deep curse and jump away from the bed.

I push myself onto my hands and feet, my rear ends up in the air getting ready to run. I'm pretty sure I look like a testy cat right now. "W-who are you?!" I shout at the shocked looking stranger with a minor stutter. He flips the light on without a struggle as if he knew where it was ahead of time.

He glares at me, his dark brows deeply furrowed and his mouth slightly ajar. He looks frustrated and almost as confused as I am. The slight bags under his eyes suggest that he hasn't slept for a while.

"I should be asking you the same question, this is my room." He says, his angered facial expression not mirroring his calm tone.

His deep voice makes my knees wobble under me. I scrutinize his appearance and sharp facial features under the bright room light and realize, I must be dreaming! He is the person in my dreams, that's it I'm still asleep! I grin from ear to ear giving my apparition another reason to look at me weirdly. I plant my feet firmly on the ground and bravely strut up to him. He takes a step back when I reach up to touch his face, his upper lip curls in disdain.

"Don't touch me." He demands, pushing my hands away. "I don't know who you are, but this is my room and I would like for you to leave my house."

I let out a small huff of laughter and cross my arms. This is the most vivid dream I have ever had, unless... He's here and... I'm in his room. My eyes widen in horror when I come to the realization that he wasn't a dream at all. My face flushes in embarrassment as I become suddenly aware of my attire. I pull on the hem of the oversized shirt and step away from him.

"I'm sorry... W-Wendy said this room was going to be e-empty for the night. I needed a place to stay because of the storm." I apologize, trying to explain the situation.

He hums in disapproval, not even bothering to look me in the eye. He seems more concerned about the condition of the room than who I am or why I'm here. "Well the storm is over now, so I assume you will be leaving now." He says, his tone as harsh as venom. He hands me my dark blue skinny jeans that are still a tad bit damp and strolls to the bookshelf in the corner of the room, selecting a hard-bound book from the top shelf, the gold swooped letters on the book hinting that it was an older fantasy novel. I look away from him and out the window over the bed, the rain is still pouring down in full force.