Do You Know Indigo?

Chapter Three

Edited 17th May 2020

My body seized and was forced abruptly upright with the panicked breaths that forced themselves from my chest. My hands trembled as they came to cradle my aching face. Everywhere he had touched felt bruised but that was impossible. Dreams were not real and so neither could the remnants of his touches be.

Once my convulsions ceased, I cautiously and unsteadily got to my feet. Though my breathing had steadied, I still tremoured from head to toe and wallowed in the disappointment of consciousness not being enough to dilute my fear. Burdened by taught, uncooperative muscles and distressing recollections of the indigo-boy, I hobbled to my bedroom door. I would get a drink to quench my thirst and give myself a purpose that was more than crying myself back into an uneasy sleep.

In the glow of the dull kitchen light, Ross sat with the evening news shielding his face. To creep in unnoticed would have been impossible; no matter how content my step-father was in his reading. I was not inclined to make small talk with anyone let alone Ross. Instead, I favoured my only other option - turning on my heel and satisfying myself with the company of whatever demons lay waiting in the dark and in the depth of my dreams.

"Bit late to be up on a school night Christine," Ross observed, rustling his paper noisily. I noted that the work-weary accounting clerk hadn't even indulged me by looking up from his pages. If he had, he might have further scolded me for falling asleep in my school uniform. Perturbed, I returned to my previous objective of getting a drink and accepted my role in participating in what would doubtlessly be an unfruitful conversation.

"It's Chris, for the thousandth time," I corrected. Ross, however, did not rise to the comment and so I persisted. "Besides, all I want is a drink. Last time I checked that wasn't a crime." I rolled the sleeves of my shirt into my hands, the fabric moist from the sweat of my nightmare. Ross placed his newspaper down on the kitchen table and regarded me tensely.

"I know it's hard to believe Chris but the only reason I'm saying anything at all is because I care. It isn't my intention to rile you up." Ross massaged his stubbled chin with bony fingers, his gold wedding ring glinting in the dim light. I opened the cupboard above the worktop and retrieved a glass from the shelf, trying to tame my irritability and failing.

"Then you're wasting your breath." I closed the cupboard door, catching it before it slammed and invited further unwanted company. Spinning the tap, I watched glugs of water slosh their way to the brim of the glass. The old pipes wheezed as I turned the tap off and brought my glass to my chest. I glanced sheepishly over at Ross, somewhat sorry for my curtness. "You know I'm not one for confrontational conversation at the best of times Ross. I'm not sure why you think the lateness of the hour would improve things." Raising my glass to lips that had no business feeling tendering, I began my withdrawal from the room.

"Consider the lesson learned." Ross said feebly, picking up his newspaper once again. I paused by his elbow, even though I knew well enough I wouldn't manage to summon the apology my step-father deserved. Ross often deserved far better than the indifference I awarded.

Glass standing half empty on my bedside table, I lay on my bed once more, resisting going back to sleep. Indigo Eyes wasn't permitted to share both of my worlds. If it were a perfect world he wouldn't exist in either.

The tingling sensation remained on my lips, tempting me to consider submission and sleep. With shaking fingers I stroked my lips before withdrawing my hand. Indigo would also not be permitted the satisfaction of having me savouring the remnants of his touch.

I had been enamoured by the paranormal before and knew the potential price being so. I would not be complicit in another game played by those with alien eyes.