The Night Children

Chapter 22

Edited. 

Dreams were gifts from the underworld. That's how the phrase goes anyway. As I stared at the ceiling, calming my racing heart through sharp breaths, I considered the thought. Dreams and nightmares were combined into one to create a reality I dreaded. It seemed my demons haunted me behind lidded eyes.

My body trembled, tricked into letting a flood of adrenaline through my veins. My fingers itched to move, sweat trickled down my temple. Taking a long, shaky breath, I pressed my fingers to my lips. When I pulled them away, no blackened silver dripped from my skin.

My heart danced with relief, and I allowed myself to slowly sit up. My blankets were thrown onto the hospital floor, like ghosts waiting to be awakened.

My tongue clung to the roof of my dry mouth when I glanced at the clock on the bed side table. Lola would arrive soon for our morning routine.

My gaze involuntarily wondered to my mother's unoccupied seat. I tried to picture her there, her face vacant and blank. I wondered if she would say anything about the dried tears on my face.

My eyes danced to the bare table on my right. Only a few weeks ago, its surface was covered in flowers. Multicoloured depictions of wellness. Didn't people know beauty dies, petals wilt, stems buckle, colour fades. Flowers are just representations of constant fragility.

My thoughts flickered to Aleena. She was a dying orchid, beautiful, rare, expensive. Her roots were too shallow, too easily plucked away. It was only the man made hospital devices keeping her alive.

A shiver went down my spine, sending my monitor to fluctuate. Aaron. I could picture him at that moment, so vivid and real. Chocking on silver, his body clogging with it. I could feel the cold metal of the gun on my fingers. I could feel death.

It hung in the air, as constant as the breath that swirled in my lungs. Death would always follow. He would always remind us.

I blinked. In that split second of darkness, I felt Aaron's lips on mine. Parting, wanting, yearning. His hot breath shared, caressing my cheek. I could taste the peppermint on my tongue.

I squeezed my eyes shut tightly. It was just a dream, I thought sternly. He would never touch me like that. Those words would never escape his arched lips. He would never admit how he missed me. And even if he did, I wouldn't allow it.

You push away the people who care. I'd been told that over the years by Aleena. I had doubted her at the time, merely stating she was hypocritical. But I could see it now. I could see it in the way I wished for Aarons hands on mine, those lips to burst into a smile, but I would turn away from his lingering gaze to ignore the signs. I could see it in the way my mother's seat remained untouched and in the way the only piece of myself was the scar on my wrist. The only defiant.

Like a tattoo, it was permanent. A symbol I had survived.

I closed my eyes. Taking in one breath, I let my mind swerve to another thought. I couldn't stay on one topic. I would break.

In my conscious, I saw Isaac. I could tell it was him just from his tricoloured eyes. Even in a stranger's body, I would know those eyes, I would know him.

I could feel myself frown. Had the blood that coated his stomach dried? Did he take himself to hospital? I didn't know. I couldn't know. I wasn't aware of his thoughts, his actions or the way his mind worked. He was a lone wolf desperate to survive on his own.

I needed time. Time to think, plan, act, change. It was the only thing I wouldn't ever receive. I was alone. There was nobody to hurt, nobody to love. Aleena was in intensive care, Aaron was a shadow and Isaac was attending to the wound that could kill him.