Betrayal Page 2
I allowed his crystal blue eyes to swallow me whole. “I want you to hold me like this forever,” I said. Then I wrapped my arms around his neck, and leaned my yearning body into his as I pressed my lips against his warm mouth. We stayed that way, intertwined for a long time. Suddenly, he stopped kissing me, and my lips rejected the cool air. The dark haired boy jerked his head upward, first to the left, then to the right. His eyebrows were wrinkled in the center of his forehead. His eyes, reminded me of the tides in an ocean wave, azure currents darting everywhere. They searched as if he expected to see something burst from behind a tree.
“Did you hear that?” Half of his face appeared somewhat illuminated by the moon’s glow and slightly overcast, adding a sinister edge to his beauty.
“What?” I searched his eyes for a hint. I read the danger in them. What he had heard from somewhere far off in the distance, were the howls I heard now.
“Uh! Oh no!” I gasped, my mouth gaping.
High pitched cries sliced through the frigid night air like a sword. The howls seemed to be coming from the direction of the caves where the bristle pines grew, at least half a mile away. Besides our whispers, and the broken weathered branches that snapped without warning beneath our feet with our every step, the bone chilling wails were the only other sound in the dim forest. I looked deep into the dark haired boy’s eyes, and knew we had very little time left. My lips beckoned him to kiss me once more, and he lowered his head, brushing a tendril of hair away from my forehead with a finger, and kissed me.
We couldn't ignore the piercing barks any longer. He grabbed my hand, and said, “We must go now. The pack is getting closer, and they are ravenous.”
He tugged at my hand, and began running. We were sprinting past the trees, darting this way and that to avoid being struck by any low limbs. We leapt over petrified tree logs that had fallen ages ago. The ravenous wolves were just as fast, and were closing the gap. Their razor sharp claws scraped against the scattered rocks and boulders sending shivers up and down my spine as they leapt over them. The barks were thunderous, and the wolves were quickly gaining on us. I fought arduously to keep up with the dark haired boy. One of wolves viciously tore at the edge of my lace fringed dress, salivating.
My heightened voice pierced into the night; a night flooded by the light of a full moon – a wolf’sbeacon. “They’re right behind us.”
“Faster” The dark haired boy hissed between gasps. Breathless and panting, we were nearly at the entrance of the forest, our passage home. Our escape was uncertain as ferocious growls, through chomping fangs, now came from the entrance of the forest. We were trapped. We ran so fast that it almost felt like flying, and then I didn't feel the ground beneath my feet anymore. We glided straight to the top of one of the tallest pine trees in the entire forest. We were so high up that the pale moon seemed within our reach. The wolves began climbing the tree, and were half way up before I knew what was happening. I watched my lover descend with incredible speed to the ground where he baited the wolves. Left alone, standing on a gnarled branch, I did my best balancing act. The dark haired boy fought effortlessly with the monstrous pack. His strength was without bounds. He was no longer the gentle boy whose kiss guaranteed the need for more. In a whisper that I knew he could hear I said, “Be careful, my love.”
My heart was thudding against my chest as I bellowed, “No, behind you.” One of the largest wolves jumped on the dark haired boy's back. The palm of my hand flew to my mouth in horror. The beast’s sharp teeth dug into my lover’s flesh, and the blood began to slowly stain his shirt and vest like a scarlet rose bud blossoming to full bloom.
“No!” My shrill voice echoed through the forest and rippled across the nearby lake, possibly fetching more wolves to feast. The dark haired boy's eyes met my gaze, and the light in them fed me strength, making him seem only an inch or two away. I reached out to touch his cheek, and his skin was as smooth as velvet. Then he was where he had been all along, on the ground battling the fierce beasts.
I realized the number of wolves had multiplied to a dozen, and shouted, “You must come back up. You're out numbered.” But the dark haired boy ignored me, flinging a bearsized wolf biting into his shoulder onto the ground where it landed on its back. My throat tightened as the dark haired boy snatched another sizable wolf in midair as it tried to lunge for his beautiful face. With what seemed to be the strength of a dozen men, he tossed the wolf. It spiraled in the air, and slamming against a tree, whimpering in pain as it slid down the gnarled trunk. It was permanently wounded. The large wolf slowly began transforming. The creature’s thick fur thinned into smooth tanned skin while the menacing, snarling mouth disappeared into the face of a young woman about my age. I shuddered at the sight of her naked, slumped over the trunk of the pine tree, lifeless.
Her death seemed to fuel the other relentless wolves. Ravenous and relentless with the intent to kill, they endured the dark haired boy’s blows.
Their mission not yet fulfilled. He snatched them as they came at him, one after the other, flinging them across the lake bordering the eastern side of the forest. In the air they whirled and spun out of control, hitting numerous trees on the way. From every more, massive wolves arrived. They leapt high into the air, and almost reached the branch I stood on. My eyes bulged in horror, and I wavered, nearly losing my footing.
“Cordelia, stay there.” He yelled. I gripped the tree bark with one hand, and waved them away with the other. One by one, as if my arm had the power of a magician's wand, I sent them flying backwards several yards. But still they returned. One of the relentless beasts jumped so high that he was almost at my feet.
“Help!” I screamed.
“Cordelia hold on!” I lost my balance, and began to fall.
“No, Cordelia, no!”
I was descending fast, and the stone and branch littered ground was coming closer and closer at an alarming rate. As the wind whipped across my face, the skin on my bare arms burned as it tore against the branches. The evil eyes of the wolves, blood red with the intent to kill, and mouths full of fangs opened wide, awaited my decent. I grabbed at a branch, and willed it to grab hold of me. The branch seemed to spring to life. Parts of the branch's extended limbs became intertwined fingers forming a gigantic hand which I clutched desperately. The dark haired boy gazed up at me with yet another monstrous wolf lunging at his back. He grimaced in pain as the wolf's fangs ripped into his flesh. I looked at my lover's face, and the stab of a knife into my heart would've ached less. But he didn't succumb to the agony. Instead, he grabbed two wolves that leaped up into the air by their furry necks, and bashed their skulls together. In one sweeping motion, he flung the wolf clawing at his back to the ground. The dark haired boy jumped up, and grabbed my hand as the tree’s intertwined limbs, which held me, unfolded.
“Evan... no!” The wolves mouths seemed opened wide enough to swallow both of us whole.
The air was hitting us in waves as we began to fall. I held on to Evan's hand as the spiral of water flew out of his other palm like an aquatic tornado flooding the wolves. They flipped over in the tidal wave, jumping out of this new river to devour us.
I woke up startled. I sat straight up in my bed staring straight ahead at the tall book shelf against the wall. I shuddered and panted and tried to catch my breath as I vividly recalled what I had experienced.
“It was a dream.” I whispered to myself. Just a dream, I tried to convince myself.
The same dream. This time the dream had been a little different. This time I got close enough to smell the wolves breath, and this time I had spoken the dark haired boy’s name.
Evan.
I loved the sound of his name on my lips now, tranquil and valiant at the same time. I missed him already.
Evan.
My cotton camisole was soaking wet. At first I figured it was perspiration, but I was wrong. My long and wavy auburn hair was drenched as if I just shampooed it. Droplets of water that smelled like the sea streaked my face as
I ran my fingers through my hair. A sudden sting on my right arm below my elbow startled me. I turned my arm upward, and was shocked at the long gash taking up the entire length of my forearm, revealing my blood.
The cut was slightly open from one end to the other. The skin surrounding it was bright pink, and smeared with a thin layer of my blood which seeped from the slash. I touched it with the tip of my finger, and the sting was replaced with searing pain. I winced, gasped, and almost screamed.
I eyed the gash on my forearm suspiciously as if it knew something I didn't. This can't be possible. How could something like this happen? How could I get hurt in a dream, and have the wound when I woke up?
Am I still dreaming? Pause. No. I was fully awake. I knew this for sure.
Through my window, the dim moonlight flooded my bedroom, and stretched across my carpeted floor in one straight column. I got out of bed, and padded into the bathroom. I took great care in bandaging the gash with gauze using my one good arm, and my front teeth. This was by no way a simple task, but somehow I got the wound covered.
The last thing I wanted to do was wake my parents, so I tiptoed back into my room. I sunk back into my sheets, carefully maneuvering my injured arm so that it didn't touch anything, having a very low threshold for pain. I let out a sigh of relief and exhaustion, but I still couldn't fall asleep with these inconceivable thoughts in my head.
Why do I keep dreaming of werewolves hunting me, and this boy with super human strength, and the ability to pour a river out of his hand? Why do I feel unbridled love for him? Why was I so captivated by him when I could barely see his face, and only hear his mesmerizing voice?
I've had the same dream every night for the past two weeks since the thunderstorm. And now I have woken up with a wound to show for it. I analyzed my bandage, confused and afraid of the unknown answer. I was very apprehensive about falling back to sleep, yet I did before I could think of an answer to my questions, or make any sense of this nightmare.
Two
Souvenir
I woke up the next morning, forgetting the reality of my dream, until I suffered the sting of my souvenir. The slightly swollen gash throbbed like a heartbeat. I slid out of bed, and sauntered over to the bay window. The dry desert heat warmed my face. As I took in the beauty of the mountains, sparsely covered in dried sage bush and bordered by the pine tree forest I had dreamt about, I hoped that somewhere beyond my window I would find the explanation to what happened last night, and what happened on the night of the storm.
I read the time on the clock, and knew I needed to hurry, but dragged instead. I paused when I saw my reflection in the mirror, and stuck my tongue out at myself like a five year old. The uncharacteristic dark circles under my almond shaped eyes made my usually tan complexion appear sallow.
My heart shaped face looked angular and thin, and my full lips appeared dry and cracked. Today, the green in my eyes reminded me more of the moss you’d find at the root of a tree – dense with no vibrancy, than an emerald jewel – sparkling. I looked as though I hadn’t slept at all.
After flushing my face with cool water, I pinched my cheeks hoping for color, and sort of resembled myself a little more – somewhere between pretty and attractive.
I decided on a long sleeved button down shirt, even though the weather would undoubtedly be insufferable in a tank top. Today would be a typical Nevada day, a scorching, dry, ninety – plus degree day. But I didn't have a choice; my unexplainable wound had to stay hidden. I pulled on my favorite jeans, grabbed my messenger bag, and headed downstairs.
I found my mom in the kitchen, perched on a stool at our breakfast nook, having coffee with buttered wheat toast. She had the Territorial Enterprise, our town’s only newspaper, opened in front of her to the sale pages. She started reading aloud the moment I entered the kitchen.
Between munching and sipping she said, “It says here, there’s a sale at Dillard's.” Her eyes smiled brighter than the sun ablaze beyond the kitchen window. “We should go to the Summit tomorrow. We can go when you get home from work.” I gave her a kiss on the cheek and she patted my hair which was still wet from the dream.
“Sure mom, maybe.”
“Maybe?”
“I mean I don’t know. I might meet up with Bethany.”
Her eyes darkened from their usual bright sky blue to cobalt as she turned her attention back to the sale ad. “Oh, ok, well you let me know what your plans are.”
My mom had one love that nearly superseded her love for me and dad. Shopping. She had Dillard's and Talbot’s, all she needed to make her day worthwhile, and both were located at the Summit Mall in Reno.
Mom put the paper down, and started eyeing the shadowy circles under my eyes. A frown formed on her lips. “Look at you honey. Did you sleep alright?” She said. “Maybe you should let me put some concealer under those eyes.”
I rolled my eyes at her, and said, “Mom, I slept fine and no, I don’t need any concealer.” I wasn’t a fan of makeup so I didn’t bother covering the circles up myself. I tried to smile so her feelings wouldn’t be hurt and winced instead from the soreness of my injured arm. She didn’t seem to notice my pained grimace. I snatched a piece of toast from her plate and listened for a horn blowing. I got a ride to school most mornings from my best friend Bethany, who had a car. She should’ve been here ten minutes ago, though.
I decided to change the subject to what plagued my mind. “Mom, can I ask you something?” I tried not to sound distressed because if I did, her parental instincts would pick up like radar and she'd begin to worry.
“Sure hon, what’s up?” She said, not tearing her eyes from the sale ads.
“What do you think it means when someone has the same dream, every night?” I held my breath and hoped she knew the answer and wouldn‘t pry any further.
“It’s the same every night?” She asked.
“Yeah.”
“I believe it's called a recurring dream,” she answered. Uh oh. One of her eye bows raised and she had a suspicious light in her eyes like she had just discovered a secret.
“Yeah, I know but...” I paused for a second or two. “Are recurring dreams normal?” I tried to sound calm, but needed her to confirm that I wasn't going nuts.
“Anyone could have them. I believe it's perfectly normal.” She set her coffee cup down on the counter top and went back to scanning the sale ads.
I’m pretty sure that mom wasn’t the authority on recurring dreams, and I wasn’t about to share my romantic, frightening, nightmarish reverie with her. The dream and my bandaged wound wouldn't make any more sense to her than it did to me and worse, the cut would scare her a hell of a lot more than it scared me. Though I was desperate to talk to someone, my mom couldn't handle this one.
I couldn't stop thinking about him, Evan, who I was almost sure I was falling in love with, I think. I went to bed with his beautiful face tattooed on my mind and woke up with the imprint still there. I couldn't escape him, and I wasn’t certain that I wanted to. I experienced things while I dreamt that I’d never known before, in all my seventeen years. It may have been just a kiss but there was an immeasurable intensity when our lips touched that I’ve only read or heard about, never actually experienced. I found myself, wanting to go to sleep to experience it all over again. I needed to be held by him, wrapped in his arms, and I wanted to drown in the sweet smell of him. His voice alone consumed me. Could this be love?
How pathetic.
Could my silly fear of talking to boys, due to my acute case of tonguetied syndrome, have caused me to manufacture a romance in my mind?
How could I fall in love with someone who's a figment of my imagination? The visions felt so incredible; his touch and his words of promise made me want to stay in the dream until we heard the howls of ravenous wolves and had to run for our lives. That part, I could do without – knowing my life was about to end. My heart always felt like it was going to explode. My teeth would chatter, and my blood ran ice cold with fear when the wolves c
ame.
I got hurt in the dream and woke up injured. What would happen if I died in the dream? In reality, would I never wake up? Last night, I had gotten pretty damn close. Should I risk going to sleep tonight? I shuddered as the questions swirled in my head.
But it all had to mean something, the walking shadow, the lightning coming out of me, the dreams that started the night I came home from the hospital, and lastly the bleeding souvenir that I had to keep incognito. I still wanted to know. I needed to know. But how would I go about finding out? I wasn't sure that I could tell anyone about these occurrences.
My parents believed everything was back to normal but of course they were wrong. If my parents had an inkling of what I’d been through, they'd have me start seeing a shrink, and then I’d finally labeled a freak. I had the sudden urge to scream at the top of my lungs until all the windows and glass in the house shattered. But I didn't. That would only provide proof of my freak status. So I kept my anxiety tucked away deep within me along with my puzzling secret.
I jolted when I heard the sound of a horn blaring from the front of the house. I hopped of the stool and took my piece of toast with me.
“I have to go mom, I’m late.” I gave her a peck on the cheek, threw my messenger bag over my shoulder and headed for the front door.
“Okay, but what about your dream?” She asked.
I yelled over my shoulder as I grabbed the front door knob, “It’s not my dream, it was just a question.”
“Will you be working tonight?” Mom asked.
“Yeah, I’ll be home by nine. Love you. Bye.” I sighed.