Beyond the Prophecy

“You’re insane. Chris doesn’t see me like that.”

Calista’s shoulders dropped, the light in her eyes slowly fading. Turning to Ava, she asked, “She’s not much of a romantic, is she?”

“Nope,” Ava responded with a smile. “You’d think all girls are, but not her. She’s more of a realist.”

“Right, you two know that I’m still in the room, yeah?”

They laughed until someone knocked on the door. Calista volunteered to answer it, only to see Michael on the other side. I overheard him telling her that she had a phone call, and they would’ve both left together in that direction if I hadn’t stopped Michael first to speak to him privately. Ava was nice enough to walk with Calista, leaving the room empty for us to have our conversation.

“So,” he began, sitting on the bed beside me, “what did you need to talk to me about?”

“Dinner. You could cut the tension there with a knife. What’s the story with you and Damien?”

In the blink of an eye, his smile disappeared and his eyebrows furrowed. “There’s no story. He likes me, I hate him, and that’s all there is to it.”

“Damien said he tried to kiss you and—”

“It didn’t happen and it never will.”

“Man, this isn’t the first time someone’s spoken to you about this, isn’t it?”

“It’s not,” he spat, rising from the bed, “and I’m so sick of repeating myself.”

I jumped up from the bed and called out to him, stopping him in his tracks. “Sometimes it’s better to talk to someone that barely knows you than with someone that knows you well. C’mere. We’ll pretend like it’s therapy.”

Reluctantly, he made his way to one of the armchairs by the large window while I sat in the other. I instructed him to spread out, allowing his body to recline not only on the seat but also on the ottoman directly in front of it. Using the music sheets on the table as my “notebook,” I sat up straight and began our fake therapy session.

“So tell me,” I said with a fake accent, imitating Freud’s Austrian one, “Vwat’s on your mind, young man?”

That actually earned me a little smile from him, but then it faded again with a sigh. “I just want people to leave me the hell alone about this. They won’t relax until I admit that I have feelings for Damien.”

“Do ya?”

“Do I what?”

“Have feelings for him.”

“Hell no,” he spat in defense. “I’m not gay.”

“Who says that makes ya gay?”

“Uh, two guys liking each other, playing butt darts and whatnot. I’d say that’s pretty gay.”

I laughed hysterically. “I didn’t think you’d go that far. But ya know, Damien likes women and men, so he’s not exactly gay either.”

“Well that’s him, not me.”

Taking in a deep breath, I braced myself for another automatic and angry response from him to my next question. “Have you ever tried to see if there might be something between you two?”

“No. Why should I? There’s nothing there, I know it.”

“You’ll never know until you try.”

“It’s not like it’s a girl asking me if I like her, it’s a guy. This is totally different. I mean, would you try to see if something was there if the one trying to kiss you was a girl?”

I paused. “This isn’t about me.”

He smirked. “See? You couldn’t do it either.”

Shaking my head, I tossed the music sheets back onto the table and leaned forward. “For ya information, I’ve been in a similar situation. I went to visit a friend of mine in California for a few days. I crashed in her tiny ass dorm the entire time. A lesbian friend of hers at the college was attracted to me, but she knew I was straight. She pursued me anyway.”

“So, what happened after that?”

“I got a little drunk one night and decided to give it a shot. College is the time for experimenting anyway, not that I ever went to college. We ended up making out, and some clothes did come off, but I couldn’t bring myself to go too far with her. She was so thankful that I even tried that she left me alone after that. But at least I definitely knew I was straight.”

Michael stared at me, without moving or even blinking. His mouth hung open a little.

“What?”

“Huh?”

“Why are you staring at me? You kind of look like you’re lost in thought.”

He continued to stare, until he finally blinked and took a deep breath. “Sorry. I was trying not to picture you with another girl. Still trying…”

My shoulders slumped just before I said to him, “You’re such a guy. I said all that shit, and that’s your first thought? Wow.”

He shrugged.

“Whatever. Guess we’re done here.”

“No! Sorry, I just…I’ll pay more attention. I promise.”

“If you say so.”

“So, this girl that liked you…You weren’t attracted to her at all?”

I shrugged. “Nah. She was a pretty bird and all, but no. I like dick,” I said with a grin.

Michael broke out into a fit of laughter. “I can’t believe you just said that!”

“What? It’s the truth!” I stated, laughing with him. “Plus, a woman’s breasts doesn’t compare to the smooth and rock-solid abs of a man’s pectorals, or his bulging biceps, or…all hell, the whole package, from head to toe and the oh-so-pleasurable places in between.”

My mind wandered off, filling with thoughts of everything I just said. At first, I imagined the muscular body of a random guy, but as it came into focus, it changed more and more into Chris. I recalled every body part I got to see this morning as if it just happened. It wasn’t just when I woke him up and accidentally saw his langer, but it was also after he left the bathroom and came back to his bedroom, freshly showered and still wet in certain places. Or when I saw his biceps flex from time to time as he brushed his teeth. Or the slow movements of his back as it reacted to my touch—

“Natasha?”

“Hm?” I said with a few blinks. “Oh sorry! Got lost in thought.”

Michael laughed again. “Now who’s the one that can’t focus.”

“Shut up. Ya have to try it out Michael.”

“Try what?”

“To see what it’s like to be with a guy.”

He stopped laughing.

“Doesn’t mean you have to go as far as I did with the other girl. It can just be a kiss. One kiss. Tell Damien that if there’s nothing there then he has to give up on ya. But if there’s something there then ya can work on what comes next together. No matter what happens, be honest about it. Not so much for his sake, but for yers.”

Michael sat in silence, sighing while considering it.

“Come on, don’t be a jibber. Take a chance. And if you can’t bring yerself to do it while you’re sober then have a few drinks, get pissed and then go for it.”

With a smile, he told me, “Okay. I’ll make an attempt. But don’t tell anyone I said so. They’d never let it go.”

“Grand! I say we go find him, yeah?”

“Now? I thought you meant I should try eventually.”

“There’s no time like the present,” I exclaimed as I ringed Damien up.

He told me that he was in the basement getting his ass kicked by Chris in pool. I wasn’t aware that Chris was no longer in his meeting, but it was good that he was free. With my guitar at hand, I headed in that direction alongside Michael. Chris and I still had a lot to talk about. It was the perfect opportunity for me to drag him away from the game and leave the room empty for Damien and Michael to talk to each other privately.

Before we reached the basement, where the billiards game was, we overheard Chris and Damien talking to each other. The wall by the only staircase that leads down there had an air vent beside it that allowed us to hear everything without them noticing. Normally I’d ignore it, but hearing them mention my name piqued my interest.

“She doesn’t sound too happy to put on a performance for that fancy party you’re having,” Damien said with a chuckle.

“It’s not the performing part that angered her, it’s the fact that it involves her friends. She’s very protective of them.”

“Can you blame her? She’s been through a lot of preternatural shit since the day she arrived. Are you getting any closer to finally getting along with her?”

Pool balls crashed and Damien groaned.

“Yes, and no. There are times when making an attempt to be civil is useless, but there are also moments when our relationship is practically cordial.”

Cordial? I mouthed to Michael. He shrugged in response, so we both let it go.

“It’s an improvement from how it was at the very beginning though, isn’t it?”

“Yes it is. But I’m unsure of how much time will pass before there’s no longer any animosity between us. We’re both hopelessly stubborn.”

“Can’t argue with you there.” He groaned again when more pool balls collided. “By the way, have you gone through withdrawal yet?”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s been, what, three weeks since the last time you had sex with someone. You’re used to getting it often.”

“Now that he mentions it,” whispered Michael, “it has been a while for him.”

“Three weeks is a while?” I whispered back.

He nodded. “I’ve only been here for about a year, but not once did I ever see him sleep with the same woman twice. Well, none that I’ve noticed anyway.”

With a head shake, I said to him, “Must be nice to be royal.”

“It’s been a little over a month, actually,” I heard Chris say. “The withdrawal does affect me at times, but I am able to contain myself. Besides, almost every single person I had sex with became my meal soon after.”

“Well that explains it,” whispered Michael.

His…meal? I thought. Those poor women. I couldn’t imagine having a one night stand and never coming home the next day. It was at that point that I decided I didn’t want to hear where the conversation was going.

I immediately rose from the ground and marched down the staircase with Michael trailing me. We had to pass a sitting area that resembled a living room to get to the billiards room.

“I was wondering when you were finally going to descend from the staircase,” Chris told me. “Did you hear anything interesting?”

“They heard us talking?” asked Damien.

“Not everything, but yes.”

“I need to talk to you,” I stated. “In private.”

Damien placed his cue on the pool table. “I’ll leave you two alone.”

“No, it’s okay. I had a specific room in mind, but it’s not this one. You can keep playing pool. In fact,” I said, pulling Michael forward, “he can join the game.”

“What?” exclaimed Michael. “But—”

“Have fun,” I stated, grinning.

With that said, I led Chris towards the ballroom. Neither one of us spoke for part of the journey until I broke the silence.

“So…” I began.

“Yes?”

“You’re a slut, huh?”

He laughed. “Call me what you what, I don’t care.”

“How about a sex-crazed murderer?”
Chris stopped walking. “I don’t owe you an explanation to my behavior.”

“Then answer this question,” I spoke forcefully, instantly turning to face him. “If you did something like that all the time, what made you stop?”

“Because I knew it would turn you away if I exhibited that kind of lifestyle while you’re around. It would’ve destroyed any chance of a relationship between us actually developing. I had to make that sacrifice.”

“Well bully for you. Ya managed to keep it in your pants for a month.”

His eyes squinted. “You’re truly infuriated with me. Where does it stem from, jealousy?”

My eyes widened. “Are ya mad? How could I be jealous of women who get murdered just for sleeping with ya?”

“Ah, so it’s not the sex part but the part that follows.”

“Yeah,” I spat. “It’s a major problem. How can ya do something like that with a clear conscious or no regrets?”

He turned away from me. “You get used to it after a while.”

I scoffed. “How can ya be so cold? Ya really only care about yourself, don’t ya?”

“It isn’t like that.”

“Oh really? Then what’s it like?” I asked, crossing my arms and putting more weight on one of my legs than on the other. “People matter, Chris. Everyone’s important to someone. They weren’t placed on this earth just to quench your thirst, whether it’s a sexual hunger or sanguine one. What if something like that happened to the servants? Or to yer family or friends? Or, God forbid, it happened to me? Imagine knowing there’s a vampire out there doing the same thing ya were doing and he chose me as his next meal. Would ya care enough to stop him, or would ya simply understand what’s going on and let it happen?”

As usual, he didn’t say a word.

“I don’t get ya. Ya went through a lot of trouble to stop Aciago and help me, but ya wouldn’t stop another vampire from killing me the way you’ve been killing other women?”

“I never said I wouldn’t.”

“Ya never said ya would either. Oh my God, is that why the whole Aciago thing started? Did you just allow him to go after me but then changed your mind?”

“Of course not. It was an entirely different situation.”

“Then why did it happen? He told me ya knew about him but didn’t warn me.”
Sighing, Chris walked up to an armchair in the living room and sat down. I took a seat on the couch adjacent to him, resting my guitar against it.

“He’s never gone after anyone I know that isn’t family, so coming after you was unexpected. About a year ago, Aciago targeted Gaby. Though it’s difficult for a female vampire to get pregnant, this circumstance would’ve been an exception because he’s an incubus. I stopped him before he could succeed, but then he went after Emily a few months later. Emily, my ten year old sister that was turned into a vampire just five years ago.”

“That’s really sick.”

“Yes, it is. Aciago isn’t picky when it comes to selecting his women. I refused to let him get away without punishment, so I consulted Kaia to find a way to get rid of him. She advised me not to do such a thing, that I’d fail because I wasn’t meant to kill him, but I ignored her warning. Unfortunately, she was right, and he swore he’d get even because of my attempt. I never imagined that you’d be his next target.”

“But he went after your family. Why would going after me affect ya the same way?”

“It could have something to do with the prophecy. Or, just as the cambion suspected, perhaps he sensed that I was attracted to you.”

I fought to keep a straight face. “So you admit that you’re attracted to me.”

“What made you believe otherwise?”

“I asked you about that this mornin’ and ya didn’t answer.”

“Well, then now you have my response.”

“No I don’t,” I stated, moving closer to him. “Ya never actually said it, and I won’t believe ya ’til I hear it come from ya.”

“Very well.” Chris leaned in closer, the serious expression in his eyes never diminishing. “I’m attracted to you. But don’t let it go to your head.”

I wasn’t sure how to react. On one hand, my skin grew warmer knowing that there was even a glimmer of hope for us to start dating, but on the other hand I still couldn’t get over the fact that he’s spent who knows how many years sleeping with and killing women.

“I really don’t get ya. It’s like there’s two different sides of yerself. One is the cold-blooded type that had killed so many for blood, physically tortured me, practically kidnapped me and so on. The other is a side you reveal to hardly anyone. The side that actually cares. The one that went above and beyond to help me with Aciago and the vampire coven. The one that showed concern for my safety. The side I actually get along with and can talk to about anything. Which one is the real you?”

With a heavy sigh, he ran his fingers through his hair. I was beginning to see that as his version of a nervous habit.

“To be honest, I’m not sure. There are many sides to a person, and people change throughout time. Living as long as I have is no exception. I have changed so often over the last two decades that sometimes I’m unsure as to which side represents the man I am today.

“Giving up that lifestyle you hate so much wasn’t just about you. It was easier at first. I used it a coping mechanism only a few times in the first year. Then it became difficult to continue, so I gave it up. However, the pressure I received from those that knew about the prophecy enraged me. I picked up the lifestyle once more as a form of rebellion. It got to the point where I was able to clear my mind and my conscious enough to go through with it, and I became so good at remaining clear that any guilt I might’ve had dwindled as time went on. I forced myself to feel nothing, so I wouldn’t feel everything. I gave it all up this time when I realized how empty it felt to wake up alone.

“It’s another reason I came to find you. That way of life lost its appeal and I wasn’t ready to be in yet another relationship until recently. You may have been single for a few months, but I’ve been single for seven years.”

My jaw dropped before I could stop it. “Okay, don’t let what I’m about to say make yer head any bigger than it already is but, how can a guy that looks like you be single for that long?”
He smiled. “It’s not just about having the ability to be in a relationship, but it’s about actually wanting one too. I never wanted to be in one these past few years. And although seven years may seem like a long time to you, it isn’t to me.. When you were a child, you couldn’t grow up fast enough. But as you get older, it seems to happen too fast. That’s when the, ‘Where did the time go?’ question continues to pop up.”

“That’s true. But seven years is still a long time to be single. And about the whole feedin’ thing. You may not sleep with and then kill women anymore, but you still go out and feed from some poor soul before they die. Is there a way to feed from someone without killin’ them? Like maybe feedin’ from more than one person in a day so that they all live?”

“Do you have any idea how exceedingly difficult that is?”

“No, but it’s not impossible. I get food from different places. Maybe you should do the same.”

“Yes, but you never have to conceal your food from the public every single time. Feeding the way I do isn’t the worst method that can be done. There were cases when vampires practically tore off the necks of their victim and fed from them like feral savages. Or when a single human became food for an entire coven of vampires. Some are even sadistic enough to feed from a human throughout the span of twenty-four hours or more, watching them suffer as they take every last drop of blood in their veins. Don’t let me get started with the habits of other preternatural creatures. The tale gets even more gruesome.”

“Jaysus,” I whispered, sitting back on the couch. “I’m glad you don’t do any of that, but could you at least try to feed from others without killin’ them?”

With furrowed eyebrows he stated, “You care that much for people you’ve never met?”

I nodded. “Like I said, people matter. I don’t have to know them personally to care.”
“I’m truly surprised,” he said with a headshake. “I pegged you as someone who looks out for herself before looking out for others.”

“Ya know, I am kind of like that. But there’s an instinct inside me that tells me people need protectin’. I’m not afraid to step up and be the one to do that.”

Smirking a little, he went on to say, “I don’t know if it makes you brave or foolish. Something like that will depend on the events you choose to let that instinct take over. Don’t lose that fighting spirit. It hasn’t failed you yet. Now, was that all you needed to speak to me about?”

He stood up, probably expecting to get back to the billiards room. I stood up too, but I shook my head.

“Actually, the real reason I needed to talk to you has to do with somethin’ in the ballroom.”

I reached for my guitar but he beat me to it, carrying it as we walked side by side. I tried to take it back but he insisted on carrying it for me and even apologized for not doing it sooner. Amazing. An actual gentleman replaced the callous prince that punished me from trying to run away. I couldn’t believe he was treating me differently, and I silently prayed that it wasn’t just a faze.

The further we walked in the ballroom, the more he fell back. By the time I reached the mahogany piano, there was at least six feet of distance between us. Turning back to him, I saw a range of emotions reflected in his eyes; a little bit of anger, apprehension, confusion and fear. Above all was curiosity. What could she possibly want with that? he probably thought.

“I need ya help to play this,” I stated, placing my arm on the cover of the keyboard when I did.

“Over my dead body.”

“Too late.”

“Is this your attempt to penalize me for practically killing the ones I’ve slept with?”

I shook my head and walked up to him. We could’ve easily gotten into an argument, bt I needed his help. Instead, I reached into my guitar case, pulled out a manila folder, and handed it to him. Chris opened it and read the first words he saw out loud.

“‘Pádraig McFadden.’ Your father wrote this?”

“Yeah. He was a composer. Most of his music was instrumental, but before he died, he was writing more and more lyrics to accompany his music. This…particular song happens to be one of the few I was helping him with.”

Chris looked up from the sheets, his eyes a little wider than normal. Once giving him a bittersweet smile, he glanced back at the pages of music.

“It’s incomplete.”

“Yeah. Every so often, I get the urge to go back and work on it. Problem is, I don’t play the piano well. I tried using the acoustic or electric guitar but it didn’t do it justice. This music was meant for the piano.”

“How can you be certain?”

“I’ll show you.”

Since I’ve played the song every time I tried to finish it over the years, I had it memorized. I didn’t even glance at the sheets as I played every note for him with my guitar.

“I see what you mean.”

“Exactly. I mean, I imagine more than one instrument, maybe even an orchestra, but the piano should be the primary instrument above the rest. But I suck at the piano. And since you mentioned before that you play it…”

“Find someone else. I gave up playing it a long time ago.”

“Why? Did you hate playing it?”

His eyes wandered over to the piano. They were glazed over, as if he was lost in thought. Maybe he was recalling the moments he used to play. I saw a softness in his eyes as well. He clearly still wanted to play, but something was holding him back.

“No. No, I loved it.”

“Then why give it up?”

Once again, he kept his mouth shut.

“I’ll make you a deal. If you tell me the story behind this, I’ll tell you something about myself that I’ve never told anyone about. And I promise to keep it to myself. This room will be like Las Vegas; whatever happens here, stays here.”

He cracked a smile, which made me smile too. “Come on,” I said, pulling him towards the piano bench and sitting beside him. Hesitantly, he lifted the cover and brushed his fingers across a few keys.

“One of the first instruments I learned how to play was a harpsichord,” he began. “Similar to a piano, but differs in a few areas. I played it for years but lost interest after some time. It piqued my interest once more over a decade ago, but I decided to give the piano a try instead. In order to learn, my parents hired an instructor.”

“Did he know that you and your family are vampires?”

“She, and yes. She was a therianthrope. At first we were strictly professional, but things changed overtime.”

“She became your mot? Oh sorry, your girlfriend?”

“Eventually yes. At first, we were just lovers, but the relationship became so serious that we even married in secret.”

“You…you were what?!” I exclaimed. My eyes could’ve have been any wider than they were when I said it. “Wait, I thought the prophecy said—And what about—I mean, I don’t understand. I thought you weren’t meant to marry anyone until the prophecy was fulfilled.”

“I wasn’t, which is why it happened in secret. She was also my donneur de sang.”

“What kind of song?”

He laughed. “Not song, sang. From time to time, a vampire finds a person whose blood is irresistible to them. On the rare occasion that it happens, they can make that person their donneur de sang, a term for a willing blood donor. Vampires feed off them, but not enough weaken them too greatly. A person that becomes a donneur de sang often, but not always, becomes a life partner.”

“So…” I started, brushing my fingers through my hair and avoiding eye contact with him, “how does mine taste? My blood I mean.” Slowly, I looked back at him.

“Your blood is definitely...an acquired taste,” he joked.

I punched him in the arm as he laughed.

“To be frank,” he continued, “it doesn’t compare to hers, but it comes in a close second.”

Smirking, I slid closer to him. “I thought you said it was an acquired taste.”

He moved closer when he said, “An acquired taste I’m rather fond of.”

The ends of my lips curled a little more. “Yeah, well, just make sure I don’t wake up one mornin’ with your teeth imbedded into my neck.”

“I would never do that.”

“Yeah, will see.” He chuckled. “How did your family take the news of your…marriage.”

“They went ballistic, of course. Especially my mother.”

“Jacqueline…” I trailed off. “What happened between you and yer instructor? Why aren’t ya still married? Or wearin’ a ring on yer finger?”

“We never exchanged rings. The elopement was a complete spur of the moment thing, and we never had a chance to purchase any.”

“Still, why aren’t ya married to yer instructor?

The amusement in his eyes and the smile on his face faded quickly. He turned away from me when he said, “My instructor, Jocelyn, was killed. Murdered by some of my enemies.”

I placed my hand on my chest, my mouth hanging open. “Jaysus, Mary, and Joseph! When did it happen?”

“About ten years ago. Sometimes it feels like it just happened. Or as if it didn’t really happen.”

“I know what you mean. Losing a loved one is never easy. I’m so sorry, Chris.”

Glaring at the piano keys, Chris’s hands slowly balled into fists. “You’re sorry. Everyone’s always sorry. I’m so tired of that hackneyed expression. It’s so easy to sympathize, but they never truly understand what it feels like.”

“Chris…” I spoke, covering his fists with my hands. “I’ve lost both of my parents. My da died when I was eleven, in a manner that people still refuse to tell me. My ma disappeared the day after my thirteenth birthday. The man she married after my da disappeared with her. It’s not just sympathy I’m feelin’. They may not have been murdered, but it hurts just the same. Don’t take this the wrong way but, you lost your wife, I can’t imagine how painful that was, but you can always fall in love again. There’s no replacin’ family.”

Throughout my little speech his hands relaxed. “I’ve forgotten about your loss. I’m sorry.”

“Hm, there goes that ‘hackneyed expression’ you’re so tired of.”
He smiled briefly. “Did any new evidence turn up about your mother’s disappearance?”

“Not since the peelers stopped investigating a year after it happened. I actually had a dream about her a few days ago.”

“How did that go?”

“Well, in the dream my ma and I were just outside of my home in Dublin. We ended up speakin’ mostly about you. She told me to ask you about the prophecy, how you really felt about it. She said it hadn’t been easy for you either. My ma also told me that things will happen that will bring us closer. How weird is that? Everythin’ she said in the dream was right.”

“You think we’re closer than we were before the dream?”

“Hm, I don’t have a strong desire to set you on fire like I did before, so I’d say that means we’re at least a little closer.”

He chuckled.

“It’s weird. It’s like she’s still guidin’ me through life, even from wherever she is. But she did mention a name at the end of the dream that I’ve never heard before. Arawn. Any idea who that is?”

“No, but I’ll look into it. However, you have yet to tell me your story. I told you why I gave up the piano. I believe it’s your turn.”

I had hoped he’d forgotten about that. Sighing heavily, I confessed, “I…have a phobia of dolls. Especially vintage dolls. It’s silly I know, but it’s because of a reoccurring nightmare I used to have when I was eleven.”

“Tell me about it.”

“I…My ma, she used to have a collection of vintage dolls, some of which she gave to me. They were so beautiful and delicate, with soft hair of various shades and rosy cheeks. I’d play with them sometimes but I had to be careful since they were so delicate. They were some of my favorite toys, until the nightmares started comin’.

“I’m kind of a light sleeper, even in my nightmares. I’d be sleepin’, and the sound of a pitter patter, or the creaks of my old wooden floor woke me. Whenever I sat up to find out where the sounds came from. I couldn’t figure it out, no matter how many times I heard the sound or sat up to find the source of it. And it kept happenin’.

“After it happened a few times, I saw that some of my dolls were out of place. I thought that maybe I kept hearin’ the sounds because they were slidin’ out of their places. They all sat on a wooden bench, so it made sense. But then it happened again…”

My voice became shaky as I continued. “I got up and all my dolls were on the floor. I placed them back on the bench and made sure they were secure, so they wouldn’t keep fallin’. When I went back to bed, I kept my eyes cracked a little, just in case. That’s when I noticed how they were really getting’ off the bench…”

The shakiness in my voice increased, and this time my hands began to tremble. “They were coming alive. Not in the friendly, Pinocchio kind of way, but a completely different, absolutely sinister kind of way. Like the Chucky dolls from those Child’s Play movies. Their faces were pale instead of rosy. Their pleasant smiles turned into mischievous grins. Their kind eyes were cold. And if that wasn’t crazy enough, I swear I could hear them cacklin’ in my head.

“I sat up, but they didn’t stop movin’ this time. Each doll slowly walked or crawled towards me. I tried to scream but no sound came. I tried to move, but I couldn’t for some reason. Their voices were in my head; some of it was cacklin’, but some whispered how they were goin’ to kill me…”

My heart thundered in my chest as my lips and my body continued to tremor. Tears streamed down my face like moderate rainfall on a windshield.

“They just kept comin’…Sometimes the dream ends when they reach my bed, but sometimes it doesn’t…At times, they even have weapons…”

I rolled up the sweater sleeve of my right arm to expose a long, diagonal scar that stretched from my wrist to my elbow.

“One of the dolls in my dream did this to my arm, but the strange part was that when I woke up, it was actually on my arm. Impossible, yeah? The doctors that stitched me up thought it was too. They said that I did this to myself while I was sleeping. The therapist I spoke to about my dream said the same thing.”

“You had sessions with a therapist?” he asked.

“Yeah. She called them night terrors. My therapist felt that my dreams were a reflection of someone I knew personally. Someone who was supposed to be kind and supportive like a doll is to a child, but lost my trust, or started to scare me.”

“Was she right?”

“…Maybe. The only person I hated at the time was my stepdad. Using the word hate towards him was me being kind. I absolutely despised him. But I swear,” I said, finally looking at him, “the dreams felt so real. I couldn’t get over it. The dolls terrified me so much that my ma had to get rid of them. I won’t go near a doll anymore.”

Silence fell. My body still trembled from recalling the terrible nightmares, so I didn’t say more. Chris didn’t say a word either. Did he think it was a stupid phobia? Other people thought so when I told them, so I often fought with them about it. It’s why I got suspended a lot when I was a kid, and why I swore I’d never tell anyone about it after that. Was he trying to come up with the best snide comment to make? All I knew was that the last thing I needed was to be made fun of.

His hand moved to cover both of mine, and I tensed up. I didn’t see a shred of delight written on his face.

“Take a few slow, deep breaths with your eyes closed,” he advised. “Open them when you feel calmer.”
I did as he said and still remained silent, waiting to see what he’d say next.

“Everyone fears something, no matter how illogical it may seem. The trick is to not allow the fear to consume you.”

“Do you think it’s possible to conquer a fear?”

“Sometimes, it can be done.”

I gave him a nod, giving his comment careful consideration. I hoped he was right about it. Tentatively, I slid his hand off mine and onto the piano’s keyboard.

“Show me.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“I need to finish this song, but I can’t without your help. Please, Chris. This means a great deal for me. Please?” I was in a vulnerable state, so I wasn’t against pleading with him. “This isn’t a punishment, and I’m not tryin’ to hurt ya. It’s just…I owe it to my da to complete this song. It’s not just a song that we didn’t get to finish. We were writin’ this song for my ma. It’s part of the reason why I put off finishin’ it for so long.”

His shoulders slumped and his lips parted a bit, opening more when he wanted to say something but stopped. The hand resting on the keyboard brushed against a few keys before pressing them. Then suddenly, he pulled his hands away as if the keys burned his hand.

“No, I can’t,” he stated firmly before standing up and storming out of the room.

________________________________________
*Bird: Slang for girl
*Jibber: Someone who's afraid to try new things
*Pissed: Drunk
*Peelers: Police, Cops, etc.