Twist Of Fate

Fifty Seven

CHLOE

"Chloe. Chloe. Chloe!"

I gasp, opening my eyes to bright sunlight, my arms pushing away thin air in front of me. For a moment I am disorientated while the fragments of my dream dissolve slowly and the road in front of me comes into focus. We are travelling along a narrow country lane, open fields either side of us. My heart is hammering and I am panting heavily, my hands stretched out before me. In the driver's seat Harry is alternating between staring at me with a look of alarm and glancing at the road. Self-consciously, I lower my hands to my lap and swallow uncomfortably, my mouth dry and parched. I feel sick to my stomach.

"You alright?" Harry asks, his eyes wider than usual. "What the fuck were you dreaming about?"

I take a deep breath, trying to shake the image of Chris' mangled, bloody face from my mind; the manifestation of my subconscious fear. I know. I know these dreams are trying to tell me something that I am afraid to uncover. I am terrified of what they are trying to reveal. But I know the answer is so closely within reach now, and will not stay locked away for much longer. Another wave of nausea crashes over me and I ball my hands into fists, fighting it silently until it passes. "Nothing."

Instantly I regret my dismissal. He turns his face back to the road, his jaw set. Before I can organise my mind to think about explaining myself to him, he mutters, "You know, considering you wanted to talk, you're still not giving much away."

His words hit home. "I'm sorry," I apologise, with as much sincerity as I can load into my voice. "It's just..." 

I hesitate, knowing I owe him my honesty but still afraid of showing him too much, thanks to the years of being ignored and disregarded by everyone around me. He says nothing, his eyes still on the road, but I can tell he is listening.

"I'm just not very good at opening up to people," I confess in a rush. "Ever since I came to London I tried my best to blend into the background so nobody would look at me. I just sort of became invisible. I felt like an inconvenience. When someone spoke to me I always worried they were doing it out of duty rather than interest, so I would never really talk in detail for fear of boring others. I got in the habit of just saying I was fine, because no one really wanted to hear the truth."

"I want to hear the truth," he interrupts.

The blunt simplicity of this statement brings a lump to my throat, and with it the realisation that he is the first person since my parents died to take any genuine interest in me at all. It takes every ounce of mental and emotional strength I have not to fall apart in front of him. I stare blindly out of the window, blinking rapidly and swallowing hard. Before I can answer him, our unfamiliar surroundings register in my mind and I turn to him, frowning.

"Wait a second - where the hell are we? How long was I asleep?"

He looks at me with utter confusion and shrugs his shoulders. "How the fuck should I know? You've been out about two hours."

"And you've just been driving this whole time?" I demand.

His expression is one of mild annoyance. "Well, yeah. Apart from when I stopped in a layby to switch the plates. What else was I supposed to do? You said to keep driving. So I kept driving."

I can feel my mouth twitching at the corners. Harry's inability to think for himself never fails to amaze me.

"What are you smirking at?" he demands, looking so affronted that I can't stop the laugh that is bubbling up inside me. He stares at me as if I have grown another head while I dissolve into giggles next to him. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing, nothing," I wheeze. "You're just very... compliant. Obedient," I clarify, when he raises one eyebrow in bewilderment.

It is at least ten minutes before we pass a road sign to indicate where in the world we are, and after a hurried consultation of the map I conclude we are towards the bottom end of the Yorkshire Dales and heading south.