Hello Darkness

Chapter Five

Darkness envelops me. Every direction I turn only contains more blackness. I spin and spin looking for anything to help me escape. A sliver of light blooms in the distance. Then I freeze.

I want to turn and run. Run far away from the tiny slice of light that burns fear into my eyes. I know exactly where I am and what's behind that door, and I can't face it now—or ever.

Silence grips my vocal cords. The light pulls me forward, beckoning me to come near.

I plead with the dark, begging it to swallow me again. If only it means I won't have to face what stands beyond that door. But the darkness disobeys and pushes me forward, closer and closer to the light.

My hands grasp at the emptiness. Searching for anything to anchor me, but I only find air. My body propels forward, until I am just inches from the towering mahogany door. The walls close in and suffocate me. My hand grudgingly reaches for the handle, my breaths staggering and shallow. I clench my fist trying to fight it, but it's out of my control.

The knob bites my hand. An electric pulse courses through it. The vibration snakes deep inside me, igniting the throb of danger in my stomach. I clench my unwilling eyes as the door slips open, and the scent of rust and roses besieges my nostrils.

My lips quiver as I draw in breath after shaky breath. My eyes burn, fighting to keep them shut. Once again, I lose the battle, and my eyelids spring open. I brace myself on the doorframe, almost crumbling to my knees, as the scene unfolds before me.

Two dark figures with immense leathery wings perch over my parents on their bed. Their faces turned away from me. But I don't need to see them to know that these creatures are from another realm, nothing that is possible in this world.

The door groans.

I wince as they pause, swinging their attention to me, their black eyes somehow brighter than the darkness. The woman, a slender brunette, bites her lip as she smiles at me with blood dripping down her chin. She flicks her head back refocusing her coal black eyes on my mother and buries her face deep into my mother's neck.

But the man—the man remains fixated on me. An animal sizing up his prey. Inky hair drapes around his shoulders as he lifts his head and sniffs the air. His eyelids flutter with pleasure. I want to cower and run, but my body remains glued to that spot. The dream always makes me watch. His head cocks to the side and a wicked grin splits his face. His tongue slides through his mouth cleansing the crimson stains from his ivory teeth and exposing two razor-sharp fangs.

That's my father's blood he licks carelessly from his teeth. My heart twists and tears blur my vision. In one swift move, his obsidian eyes are inches from me. His hot breath caresses my cheeks, and I finally find my breath to scream.

I sit up, clenching my dampened tee-shirt that's twisted around my body. I couldn't have been asleep for more than a few hours. The sun still hasn't shown any signs of existence.

The soft patter of footsteps comes from outside my bedroom door before it swings open. Alma stands illuminated by the light of the hallway—her hand tightly clutching the bat at her side. Alma meets my gaze. The bat clatters to the floor, and she hurries to my bed.

My heart thunders, and my stomach churns until its contents hurl into the trash bin I keep next to my bed. Alma's cool fingers glide across the edges of my face and along the nape of my neck, as she pulls back the hair that sticks to my sweaty face.

I withdraw my head from the basket after several violent heaves. Alma's drops my hair and rolls her fingers across my back. Just her touch anchors me to reality. When had she become so motherly? Certainly, she wore our mother's warm chocolate eyes and deep brown hair, but I was older by nearly two years—I should be the one taking care of her. I slump back into my bed, kicking off the remaining covers and try to catch my breath.

"Are you alright?" Alma reaches for my hand.

During the commotion, Breccan found his way to the doorway. He leans against the frame, arms folded over his chest and jaw clenched tight.

I cover my mouth, acid burning my tongue and lips. I can't meet Alma's gaze, as a pang of guilt stings my heart. As much as I want her to listen, I don't want to tell her this. She is right, it has taken up so much of our lives already. My eyes trace the thin grooves in the wood floorboards and force the words out. "Alma..." I breathe. "The nightmares are back."

~*~ 

Cocooned in a flowery quilt, I sit on the worn leather couch in our living room, holding a warm cup of raspberry tea.

"Do you think we should call Dr. Reed?" Alma pulls the extra blanket across her thighs. Her eyes flicker to Breccan sitting silently in the armchair in the corner. I hate that they can convey so much disappointment in one little glance.

"No," I whisper. That would mean that I've failed to keep my delusions away, and I'd gone so long without them. "I think it was just—" I don't want to bring it up to Alma. I know what she will say. "It's just that girl—her injury. It looked so much like Mom and Dad's."

Alma shifts on the couch, sitting a little straighter. Clearly, trying to make up for earlier, she let me continue. "I just can't get it out of my head. I feel so guilty—I just—they've got to be related."

"Charley." Alma purses her lips, trying to hold back the temper flaring in her brown eyes. "Don't go there."

"So, I'm not allowed to talk about them?" I pull my knees into my chest.

Alma leans forward and straightens the stack of magazines on the coffee table. "You can talk about them, but I'm not going to sit here and allow you to feed into that fallacy." Her eyes soften as she reads my face. "Look what you saw—it was something that no one should ever have to see, but you can't let these nightmares stifle your progress. You've been doing so well. I don't want to see you fall back..." she gulps, checking her words carefully. "I need you. I need you here, in the present."

"As for the girl." Breccan leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "It's not going to do you any good to blame yourself. You did everything you could. We'll find out what happened, you don't need to concern yourself with her."

Maybe it's because I'm exhausted, but I don't bother pointing out that's what they told us fifteen years ago. Plus, I know he's right, I didn't have the skills to do anything more, but that doesn't make it easier to accept. As for what I thought happened, those creatures couldn't possibly exist. People are born, they grow, and then they die. That's just how the world works. And they most certainly don't drink blood.

No matter what anyone says, the visions of that horrific morning in June would haunt me for the rest of my life. And that was certainly not a dream. I hold a breath.

Nine pictures on the wall.

Twenty smiling faces.

Three steaming cups of tea.