Rare Blood

Chapter Twenty-Nine: A Crescendo

Faye was in a white cotton dress with eyelet lace in a clearing surrounded by trees. The sun was warm on her skin and the grass soft on her feet. There was a sound that didn't belong, like the melodic piping of bottles being played. She found herself doing little twirls in a soft breeze as the melody continued in the distance. It was strange, but as out of the ordinary as it was, it was equally as beautiful. She spun carefree until the noise abruptly stopped.

She looked around as an eerie calm settled. The birds quit chirping and the air stilled. She looked to the sky, watching as heavy dark clouds converged above from out of nowhere, then she saw Cyrus running at her. He was yelling something, but she could comprehend none of it because her attention was monopolized by a shadowy figure that was following him. She tried, but she couldn't make out what it was. The next second Cyrus was in front of her and he fell into her, tackling her to the ground, smothering her.

She could hardly breathe he was so heavy and then she felt something kind of wet spreading across her chest. She realized it was blood. The liquid was easily felt through the thin cotton of a summer day. She struggled just to get his weight off of her, and when she managed to roll him, he was fading. She lifted what remained of a shredded blue t-shirt and cried. There was so much blood. His flesh was torn open in giant slices that seemed to go all the way to his bones.

By the time she focused on his face his eyes were fluttering closed, "Run," he croaked before going still. She screamed, "Cyrus! Cyrus! No!"

She screamed until... she was awakened.

"I'm right here. What is it? What happened," Cyrus' voice was healthy and strong unlike the gurgled run he'd croaked only a second before. She was in his strong arms and realized she had been dreaming, It was all just a dream. 

"Oh thank god," she said, collapsing against him, burying her face in his chest. 

"What happened," he asked again, running his hands over her back. When she didn't answer he said, "Faye," sounding more alarmed, his hands roaming over her looking for something.

"I'm, I'm fine," she said, but she was shook, it was obvious.

"Tell me," he demanded.

"I was dreaming. It was just a bad dream."

"About?"

"Nothing, I don't know," she said, pulling out of his arms, smoothing the hair from her face. 

"I just need a minute," and then she got out of the bed and went into the bathroom.

She turned the water on and doused her face with a few cupped handfuls.  It was cold and  helped slow her heart a bit. She patted her face dry with a fluffy white towel then took a few more deep breaths, bracing herself to return to the bed knowing Cyrus was going to ask again what she had been dreaming of, and she would have to tell him, and she was embarrassed about it.

with a resigned sigh she opened the door to find Cyrus had gotten a glass of water for her, but otherwise appeared not to have moved.  She walked over to the bed and sat down taking it from him silently.  After a mouthfuls she said, "Cyrus, I'm sorry."

"For having a bad dream," he questioned, raising a brow at her.

"For everything."

"You have nothing to be sorry for. It's alright," he said shrugging, then he asked, "Have you always had nightmares?"

"About falling... Yeah, I have."

"You weren't falling earlier. You were yelling my name..."

"No, tonight was... different. You were... you were dying."