Storm Brew

"Princess," the voice drifted sugary. "Princess,"

Sugary and sing-songed? Nate was boarding the limits of weird. My eyes fluttered when I heard my name—I jumped hitting back of my head on the headboard. Blond hair—lemon blond, not ash blond—oh you had to be kidding…! I gripped my head shaking it a while.

"Melissa," I heard it being pronounced firmly, my arms were being gripped. "What the heck, Mel?"
Nate—that was Nate. I felt the sting from hitting the wooden board, as I went to massage it I found my arms still useless.

"My head hurts." I muttered looking into Nate's light brown eyes. "It would really help if I wasn't in a straitjacket." I said with decent level of snarkiness.

Nathaniel's hands slipped away resting on my knees. I gladly rubbed the hurt spot on my head. My brain was going to get scrambled—more than it already was.

"I was trying to wake you up for dinner." He said with a frown. "You jumped when you looked at me."

Huh… what was I going to tell him? I know people say honesty is the best policy but somehow saying: 'I saw your dead sister instead of you,' didn't seem right. Definitely not.

"Huh, sorry… I had a bad dream." I shrugged before he asked anything. "It's night already?" I mused looking out the window to see a black mantle with its share of clouds.

"You slept quite a lot," the hands disappeared from my knees, reappearing on my waist. "You talked in your sleep." His thumbs ran in a up-and-down motion. My breath caught. Who knew what I'd said...

"What… did I say?" I asked trying not to show my fear.

"Oh you know the usual," he shrugged nonchalantly. The usual? My brow furrowed. "How hot and sexy I am," his lips glued to mine before I could talk or react. "How crazy I make you," his body trapped mine. "How you can't get enough of me…" His mouth pressed into my collarbone. "That sort of thing." Nate's eyes twinkled with healthy mischief.

I smiled shakily, thinking how much of a scare he'd given me.

"Are you sure you didn't fall asleep? Because I'd only say those things in your dreams." I smirked at the nuzzle he gave my neck.

"You're completely obsessed with me." His legs closed and mine were clasped between them. "Admit it." Never, even if I was crazy for him I wouldn't flat out say it.

"Only in your dreams." I laced an arm behind his neck pulling Nate's head down.

"So tell me, what did it feel like pulling that trigger?"

"Ow!" Nathaniel pulled his mouth away, then his body, sitting on the border of bed. "What… you bit me," he mumbled holding a finger to the swelling lip.

Oh man.

"I knew you were a killer, but a cannibal?" Drew clacked sitting in the chair of our room. "This is even better. Nate always liked feisty."

I looked to her giving a fulminating glance. Nate didn't do anything, he licked his lip where I'd bitten and mumbled something under his breath. He couldn't see her; I could see and hear her. Maybe I needed to sleep more? I'd gone so long without sleeping for longer than two hours… everything was wearing me down. It had to be it… it had to. Even if it was though, shouldn't I be able to send her away? Why was my brain torturing me like this? I was never the masochist type for cryin' out loud!

"I'm sorry, Nate." I edged toward him, ignoring the tricks my mind was playing on me. "I don't know what happened…"

"I know I'm irresistible and all, but you don't need to—" I tugged on a strand of his hair like he used to do to me. "Hey," he mumbled.

"I worry about you and you make jokes?"

Nathaniel chuckled deeply.

"Settle down, sweetheart, you bit my lip you didn't shoot me." His arm wrapped over my shoulders. "I think I'll live."

"Ha…" I intoned, patting his chest. "Right," Why did he have to say 'shoot' right now?

"You might, though." My jaw tensed. "Shoot Nate, I mean. You killed once, and a person who kills once always does it again. Especially if it's in your blood—and it is, Melissa, don't forget that."

My hand fisted into the sheets as I told myself to calm down, that whatever this was, it would go away. Sneaking a look at the chair I sighed relieved.

She was gone. Okay, good, my brain was agreeing with me. I was tired, this would pass soon.

"Hungry?" I caught the whisper.

"Ah… yeah, I guess."

Nate waited as I put my shoes back on then shrugged the pilot jacket on. He shook his head as I approached him.

"We need to make a shopping list," I slipped my hand into his as we walked out into the cool air of night. "A shampoo and jacket."

I pulled on his hand, unexpectedly, making him stumble.

"I agree to the shampoo, but I like this jacket."

Nate smiled warmly.

"Just like you love my red sweatshirt, I might run out of clothes soon."

I laughed softly then was aware of something. I'd slept in my day clothes and would've kept sleeping if Nate hadn't woken me up. Before I wasn't able to do that, the jeans bothered me when I slept—I think my new pillow had something do with the fact that I didn't care.

"You were sleeping all this time?" Anna said when we got into the diner. "I thought you were working or…" She trailed off looking over to Nate. "You know," she left it to my imagination.

"She was tired," Nate bumped into our conversation. "I thought you were with us to keep her safe?"

"I am," Anna rolled her eyes.

"Then what were you doing on my computer?" His eyes slit as we sat by a booth in the corner.

Anna shrugged apparently unaffected by Nate's chilling stare.

"I was checking out an e-mail Reed sent me." Nate grew a little tense. "He wanted me to tell you your parents are still in Russia. Lucky you."

Nate's parents… they would have to know about Drew's death. Apparently they weren't in America, I didn't know that. Then again, Nate didn't talk much about them. I didn't even know his adoptive Mother's name.

"Okay," he mumbled looking over to the menu.

He would have to be the one to tell about Drew's death, they'd believe them, I hoped. Drew said their parents would believe Nate faster than they had ever believe her—because of how loyal he was. I really wished that was true. Nate seemed to think so, though, he hadn't brought it up a lot.

"Found out anything about the riddle?" Anna asked, playing with the salt and pepper.

"Besides a new level of frustration?" I asked a little sarcastic. "No."

"That bad, huh?"

I nodded leaning my head backward—I made a face as the bump on it hurt. Great; just what I needed a bump in my head.

"Better a bump in your head than three holes in your chest." My eyes caught the very dead image of Drew whipping her hair, sitting beside Anna. "Where did you learn how to shoot like that? It's hard to believe I was your first kill." She grinned.

I made a face of disgust. Go away, I chanted over and over.

"I'll help tomorrow," Anna said decisively. "Since someone has been too busy walking back and forth right outside the room."

That was a jab at Nate, clearly.

"Riddles are Melissa's jurisdiction," He responded turning the page, I saw his jaw clench, though.

"And what's yours? Take her out to get kidnapped?" She threw back.

"Ann—"

"Everything revolves around you, doesn't it? I mean, here we have your childhood friend risking her life to keep you safe from a Cult—the same one that blew your Ex into tiny enough pieces to fit in a match box—and on that side," Drew's blood decorated chin jerked to Nate. "We have my Nate—"

"He's not yours," I growled fisting a hand.

Slowly I grew aware of both stares, both Anna's and Nate's.

I wasn't supposed to talk alone people who did were put in asylum sooner or later—but normal people don't have hallucinations.

Drew was gone, again. Not that I could just point at her and say it was her fault—no one saw her. It was all part of my imagination.

"So… have you ordered?" I snatched the menu from my bewildered boyfriend's hands. "I am starving," I forced myself to say flipping through the pages.

"Huh," Anna pulled her black hair behind her ear. "Mel are you—"

"Famished? You bet," I smiled shutting the menu as a waitress came to our booth.

Anything to avoid questions, because honestly, there was no answer for what I just said—I'd basically stated my claim over Nate… to Anna. But it wasn't her I meant to warn…

Even after dead this bitch wouldn't leave me alone… my brain couldn't have picked anyone else? Jesus, I was beginning to feel like I was in one of those Elm Street movies. Okay—no. Don't think about that, next thing I knew I'd be seeing Freddy Krueger.

***

I acted it out until the end of dinner and when me and Nate were alone in our room I just wanted to take a shower. Maybe that would work wonders on me.

"Are you ever going to give up trying to have a shower with me?" I asked leaning on the sink.

"Hope's the last thing to die isn't it?" He asked cheekily.

I didn't say anything only kept my arms crossed giving him a look that read: Not going to happen.

Finally, he threw his hands up and turned around walking out. I shook my head closing the door. I discarded my clothes and pulled the shower curtain once I was inside.

Water was all I could hear in those next minutes. Each time I entered a shower I was reminded of that day, when I rescued

Nate—I found the motel and I had to clean him of dirt, blood… then I had to walk into a shower because I'd gotten hit by splatters of her blood and hadn't even noticed.

It didn't bother me, then. The blood had run off my skin, I'd watched it happen… and it didn't bother me as much.

I lifted my head as the water crashed into my face—I took a step back gasping. I reached for the water tap but I couldn't get to it, I kept taking steps until I was backed up into the wall. I was open mouthed—it didn't last long when it began falling from the ceiling. Blood; it was in the water, coming out of the shower head—it was falling from no apparent spot on the ceiling and it was… on me. On my hair, my face—everywhere. I wiped it off and it kept coming back, so I wiped it again but my hands were covered in it. What… this wasn't sane, this wasn't normal… this wasn't real, it couldn't be! There was the smell, though, the smell of rust and taste… God it was in my mouth. Red everywhere, on me, around me—I gripped my head while I sunk into the bath's floor. I willed it away, this wasn't real, it wasn't, it couldn't be. Then how can you smell and taste it? My brain threw at me. At some point I must've called out, yelled, something—I don't know but I had to had done something because Nate was cradling my face between his hands; his eyes wide boring into mine.

"What's wrong—what happened?"

I gripped Nate's hands and was petrified to see them get bloody… my hand prints were marked in blood. I tried another place—his face, his shoulders—it was the same with every location. It ended up with blood stains.

"Melissa," he called with urgency. "Tell me what's wrong?"

What was wrong? It was a blood bath in here! He was asking me what was wrong. Was he blind?

"Blood," I managed through my insane trip. "There's blood…"

Nathaniel whipped his head around—his eyes taking every corner, every inch just to return to me.

"Mel," he said softly. "There's no blood," Nate stated calmly.

I tilted my head—my russet hair was dripping water—blood. There was blood, I was covered in it. I was, I was seeing it, touching it…

I took Nate's clothes in again the bloody marks remained.

"Yes," I breathed. "There is,"

Nate licked his lips changing from his crouching position to kneeling.

"There is no blood—"

"Yes, there is!" I yelled hitting his shoulders. "There is blood in here—there's blood on your clothes, on my skin, my hair—" I pulled my naked legs against my chest further. "It's everywhere, Nate! Why can't you see it?" I sobbed watching as the blood got thicker, redder—like it was mocking me. Soon I found my face snatched between Nate's hands again.
He looked determined and fierce, taking deep breaths.

"Look at me," I tried to rip his hands from my face; he was smudging the blood everywhere.

"No… your face is—"

"Look. At. Me."

I froze as something in my mind triggered. I knew that tone, Nate was mean when he used that voice—so I did it, and looked to him. Blood was running down his face, down his nose…

"Melissa," he gritted, I got the sense he was trying not to yell. "Listen to me," I tried to nod to let him know I was listening, but he didn't let me. "There's no blood. Whatever nightmare you have playing in your head—it's not real. Me and you, we're real. The only thing here that's liquid is the water—translucent water. Do you understand?"

I bit my lip and tasted it immediately.

"No… it's—"

"It's not real. I am, you are—look at me, at my eyes. Am I lying to you?" I forced myself to glimpse then to fix his stare with mine.

Mine was shaking, his was strong—a safety bar. I held on to it.

"Okay," Nate said steadily. "Breathe in, breathe out. Can you do that?"

I limited myself to look into his eyes—the eyes that had captured mine in so many occasions and did what he asked. I have no idea how many times I inhaled and exhaled. I don't know how long it was before I saw the patches of red vanish from Nate's clothes, from his face—but it did. I saw water trickling down his brows, and eyes—it was transparent not red.
I saw it getting blurry as I collapsed into him.