Storm Brew

Voices echoed starting out as mumbles, mumbles started as whispers—but whispers grew fast and quickly into sharp mumbles and then they metamorphosed themselves into voices I could hear. They sounded far off yet close by. My eyes were heavy—this was a familiar sensation, I'd felt this way before, two times I think…

"…that never happened."

"Good, because newsflash Nathaniel—it's not supposed to!"

"Quiet you'll wake her up." The deep voice commanded.

There was something like a grunt in the background—but then the feminine voice grew quieter.

"How many hours per night has she been sleeping?"

"I don't know… a couple of hours—"

"What kind of boyfriend are you?" It was accusing and sharp. "She killed a person—she's not like us. She's not trained for it. She's not trained to handle it. She's afraid of blood." She deadpanned. "What kind of boyfriend are you?" It was repeated with low, shaking anger.

There was silence for a second, though it seemed to last forever. My heart beat faster and still I wouldn't want to open my eyes. I didn't want to move from the comfortable spot… I was content with this state of drifting in and out of consciousness.

"She doesn't tell me—I can't force it out of her." It was a choked up reply. I felt sad, Nate—yes, that was his voice—didn't choke on his words, he always had a quick reply on the tip of his tongue. "She's been having bad dreams. She tosses in every direction… I thought she was getting better in the last few days…"

"Really? I think she's been pretending to sleep." Anna interjected snidely, and then sighed. "Melissa doesn't keep things to herself. She tells people before they start to eat her up… she's been hanging too much around you."

"This isn't my fault—"

"Oh? Then whose is it? Mine?" There was a dry laugh. "You were the one with her—you were the one her parents asked to keep her safe, weren't you? Tell me if I'm mistaking?" Nate said nothing, though I could picture his rage filled expression. "You have feelings for her—that's great as long as you protect her. You didn't. You walked into a trap set by your sister and she was left alone. That isn't what I call having your head in the game."

"I know all that, isn't that the reason why you're here, because of my lack of skill to protect her?" Nathaniel roared, for a moment I thought he'd hit her.

There was nothing. No sound.

"Exactly, dear Nate, that's why I'm here—I just didn't think you were so clueless about what's happening to your own girlfriend."

"I…" He didn't say anything more.

It was so strange to hear him that way; he didn't know what to say.

"She killed Drew—don't tell me you haven't wondered what's going on in her head?" I could see Anna throwing her hands up in a sort of desperate way.

"We talked about it," He said in his defense, than quietly he added. "…once…"

It was a whisper, this Nate was unusual. I only saw this Nate with me—the more vulnerable side of him and now he was showing it to Anna… maybe because it's something that concerned me—us.

"Once isn't enough," Anna's voice had become softer, not less jabbing, though. "She's been having nightmares like you said, she doesn't talk about them, how could you think once was enough and she'd be back to normal?"

There was another absence of sound; for me it was like being thrown into a dark void—a black hole in space. A sigh echoed so loudly it seemed to shake the room.

"I've asked her again and again—she won't tell me anything—not even how she found me. I wished I knew what's going through her head, but I don't…" I got a vision of Nate ruffling his hair. "I don't know how to help if she doesn't talk to me. Maybe I'm not enough, not this time…"

I could hear all the dismay, sadness and powerlessness he applied to his words. It was hard to just lay here hearing him talk in such way, not jump from my apparent sleeping state—tell him everything…

"Yeah, you should tell him. Why don't you start with the part where you dreamed of slitting his throat?" I twisted my head around, shaking it—I wanted her to go away. "Do you think he'll stay with you then?" Drew giggled—I wished I could say I'd forgotten how annoying the sound was, I hadn't. "I wouldn't be too sure—"

"Leave me alone," I snapped my eyes open. "Why don't you just go away? I killed you, you're dead—go away."

"I'm not going anywhere—"

"Why not? What do you want from me?"

Drew's blue, vacant eyes gazed at me sternly.

"What do I want from you? Oh, so many things…" She sighed as if recalling a wonderful dream. "But I'm just telling you what you're too afraid to admit." Drew crossed her arms over the shot chest. "You've changed—you're a killer now, there's nothing you can do once you take a life—any life, it doesn't matter whose. Does the reason really matter—?"

"What do you want me to say?" I gritted sitting straight on the bed, my head grasped in my hands.

A shadow was cast over me.

"How good did you feel when you shot me—when you murdered me?" Two hands fell on my shoulders, gripping them tightly.

"It felt wrong, awful—it was the worst thing I've ever done." I tried to say through uneven breaths.

"You're lying," her voice roared.

"I'm not—"

"Yes you are," she cut off shaking me, still I wouldn't look to her. "How did it really feel, Melissa? Come on, confess you know you—"

Something sprouted from my heart—something I was afraid of for a long time. Something I couldn't begin to believe or understand. A thing I couldn't face or admit, but I just had to, if I didn't I'd go insane. Maybe I was already losing my sanity. What Drew said was true—I had dreamed of… of slitting my own boyfriend's throat. I didn't even know how we'd ended up in those positions—Nate against a wall and me pressing a knife to the side of his neck. I don't know what was wrong with me…

"Fine," I bellowed. "I didn't care, I didn't feel anything—I didn't mind killing you. There are you happy now?"

I stopped breathing for what felt like an eternity. There was no one there, no one but Anna—looking beside herself with shock. Her hands were the ones gripping my shoulders. I'd heard Drew's voice—seen her at first, but Anna was there in the room. And she wasn't the only one.

"Mel—"

I knew how this looked, I really did. I thought it was sleep related but now I was beginning to think I was wrong—maybe this was just too much. Maybe I was losing it.

I recalled why I'd blacked out. The shower… I'd been in the shower and the water turned into blood, thick red blood dripping on every part of my olive skin, the tiled walls—then Nate was there and he'd brought me back to reality, afterwards there was blackness.

Nate saw me naked… Really, between Drew's "ghost" and seeing blood pour onto me instead of water, I was worried about that? Snapping to what was actually important I felt around me for the first time. I had my clothes on, my hair was soaked—it couldn't have been long since I passed out.

"Melissa," Anna called out hesitant. "Why did you say that?"

I looked into her forest green eyes, my mouth parted—

"Tell her the truth. The whole truth—how you—"

I beat my fists on the bed's edge.

"Shut up!" I yelled whirling my head to the chair where my hallucination was. "Go away," I gritted dangerously.

"Or what, you'll kill me?" Her mouth drew into an O. "Wait, you already did that."

I tried my best to ignore, to stomp the dread and despair rising in the back of my mind, when I figured I'd done it well enough I turned to Anna—except I didn't see her anymore. I shook my head.

"Melissa tell me what's wrong—"

It was Drew's face—her dead face—her voice, Anna's words but I couldn't get it together… I pushed her off watching her tumble onto her back. Getting to my feet I stumbled disoriented—the room was in a spin for a while…

"Mel?" I grabbed onto the nearest wall for balance. "Mel…" His voice called a little lower.

I fixated my eyes on him; his hair was damp like mine, his eyes were shining and his expression it was… it was so soft and innocent—it didn't look like Nate, not with that level of innocence.

"No…" I saw the repeating image, the dream I never told him about—the blood gushing from his throat… "No, no, no!" I cried out gripping the side of my head.

It all felt so heavy, it was happening so fast, though, everything was just a heavy race.

"Tell me what's wrong, I'll help." He took a step toward me, I took one away. "I can't help if you don't tell me, please tell me." Nate lifted his hands like he was saying he wouldn't hurt me. "Please—"

I couldn't tell him. Nate would never look at me again, he'd think I was crazy—what if I was?

"But look at that desperate face—isn't it adorable?" Drew called standing right beside me. "Don't you just want to give in? Maybe I'll go away... or not." She laughed hollowly.

I gave her a winded glance, she flashed a bloody grin.

"Leave me alone," I pleaded.

"I just want to help you," I whirled my head to Nate. "Melissa—"

"Maybe he won't mind having a lunatic for a girlfriend. I mean, I was his sister, granted I never thought of killing him he's just too—"

"No," I refused to listen to anymore, I was sick, I was confused… I… "I don't want to hurt you…"

"You'd never hurt me, Melissa, I know that." His voice was urgent, cracking at the end. "I know you—"

I watched as he closed the space between us a little further, this time my stumble backward wasn't as great. My wild eyes were too caught in his tender gaze.

"Tell him. Let's hear what he thinks of the new you," she whispered close to my ear sending shivers rippling throughout my body. "The girl he fell in love with is gone, except he never actually said it, did he?" I breathed shakily looking to her from the corner of my eye. "You know, that he loves you? Maybe he doesn't—he's already had so many girls." Drew shrugged with a twisted smirk. "Maybe you won't break his heart if you tell him what you've been hiding, with some luck you're just another one."

"Please, stop…" I begged.

It was Nate on one side telling me to calm down and let him help—and Drew on the other. It was like they were playing tug-and-pull with my brain. It hurt, it hurt so much…

If I said I was in complete control of myself with what I did next, I'd be lying. Nate tried to grasp my hand I didn't let him; I pushed against it and ran. The fresh air greeted me coldly. It wasn't until I'd jogged for two minutes that I noticed my face and arms weren't the only things that were cold—my socks were on but my shoes weren't. It didn't matter though; I just had to get away. I couldn't stay there. I couldn't be with Nate or Anna—I just couldn't.
Drew flashed every two seconds in front of me, making me halt and change direction. Until, eventually, I couldn't take anymore running. I couldn't go anywhere else… I put my back to a stone cold wall sliding down it. She kept talking, I clapped my hands over my ears trying to kill the sound of her fake, sweet voice—it didn't help. Nothing seemed to help. Not drawing my knees to my chest or bury my head in them. I couldn't tune her out…
I could hear my faint breathing, cars, her and it was so faint… but there were steps—steps that grew closer and closer.

***

There was a burning behind my eyes as if they'd been open for far too long which was strange, since they were closed. Slowly it dawned on me what the sensation was from, I had them closed now—I didn't recall closing them—but I'd spent days and nights with them open; watching the world pass me by while I was afraid of going to sleep most times. I was afraid of what I'd see next, what my dreams would turn into. It had been a while since I looked myself in the mirror—really looked, not just glance to see if my hair was sticking out or well combed. The circles under my eyes must be massive.
I felt my head ease itself into awareness much to my dismay. I wished I could remain in this peaceful limbo longer. This feeling I had—like my body weighed nothing, it was so great that it felt like I was floating—I was familiar with it. It had been a while back—five years if I was being precise, but I remembered. It was too good to forget. It was from when I'd broken my clavicle climbing the tree… the doctors had given me morphine. When I woken up I had felt light as air, like nothing mattered, there wasn't a single problem in my life. Right now, I was aware there was something I should be worried about, maybe more than one—I didn't quite know what it was, though.

When I took in the surroundings, I frowned. There were no white walls, machines beeping or white sheets. I thought there would be. How could I be feeling so calm and detached without a drug? I couldn't, not these days. It was impossible.

The walls were cream. The bed I was in was wide and ample—the duvet was light, warm and stuffed with feathers. There was one medium window, the bedside lamp was on—I looked into a raw, dazzling green color. They were shining like two precious gems—emeralds.

"A… Aric…?" My voice was low, admired—raspy.

I was dumbfounded; of all the people I expect to see, he wasn't on the list. With a slow deliberated gesture, he waved from his lazy pose on the office chair beside the big bed.

"If I had a dollar each time a girl said my name like that," the Australian accent made me believe it was really him. "I could retire."

"Who would want your job…?" I asked groggily, I don't think I actually knew what I saying.

Aric's silky hair framed his eyes, falling on either side of them.

"I had a crappy guidance counselor."

I giggled—I couldn't help it. Somehow, I couldn't help to think I'd been in a slight similar situation—I couldn't precise what and when… my head was filled with cobwebs.

"I sedated you."

My head movement was sharp and I found myself hitting the soft mattress beneath me. Everything was woozy.

"You… what?" I cracked softly, rubbing my temples.

There was a faint shuffling, then Aric was sitting on the edge of bed, leaning over to me—watching.

"I sedated you," he repeated with no hint of hesitation. "I had to, you were wild."

I blinked. I was wild…? Did I drink too much? Wait—I shouldn't even be asking what I'd done for him to sedate me—why the hell was he with me in the first place? I groaned forcing myself to focus on one question at a time.

"I found you," Aric's voice rang with its velvet. "You were talking alone—in an alley. I touched you and you tried to hit me—"

"And you just happened to have a sedative?" I shot, since the encounter was a blur of shadows.

Aric cocked his head.

"No, but I do have them in my car." He shrugged, as if saying the most natural thing in the whole world. "I dragged you to my car, you kept screaming nonsense and I sedated you. That's what happened, luv."

I didn't have any recollection of it… but what else could've happened? My brain was too muddy for me to find anything. Letting my eyes wander from Aric's I spotted a glass on the night stand—it was filled to half with a light brown liquor, maybe whiskey—brandy.

Brandy… brandy eyes. Nate.

"Nate… where is he?" I asked trying to sit up.

Aric scooted away a little as I sat.

"Wherever you left him, luv, I'm not keeping tabs on your boyfriend." Aric drew a leg up, propping his elbow on his knee and leaning his head on his fist. "Besides, you were running from him, weren't you? That was the only coherent thing you said—I told you I was going to take you back to the motel and you begged me not to. Your choice." I scrunched my face trying to grasp anything from our apparent out-of-control-encounter. "Not mine." I heard lastly.

After coming up with nothing I stared at him through slit eyes.

"Are you following us?" Aric's calm, amused expression didn't alter. "You always know where we are—"

"Shouldn't you be glad? There are three Order members looking for you all over Atlanta. If they'd found you instead of me you'd be on your way to base right now." He smirked showing his perfectly aligned teeth. "We're not in Atlanta anymore, by the way."

My eyes grew wide.

"What—you kidnapped me?" Why did I sound so surprised? Aric was from the Order, he might not be participating in their hunt—but maybe he had some agenda of his own. Why else would he keep popping up?

"That's a bit extreme, don't you think, luv?" He retrieved the cup from the night stand taking a faint swig. "I did what you asked me, I didn't take you back to the motel."

"Why would you…? Take me back to the motel, I mean. What do you want from me?" I pushed with courage I wasn't feeling, the only thing I felt was dazed and exhausted. The sedative had clearly worn off.

"That's for me to know and for you to—dot, dot, dot." I frowned at him. "What's gotten you so riled up, anyway? You were a mess. Actually, I don't think I've ever seen a girl so messy and still alive." He mused.

"Thanks for the compliment. You really know how to charm a lady."

Aric cocked the glass watching the remaining liquid slosh around.

"Maybe I don't want to charm you," he replied taking another gulp—this time longer. "You've killed." It was a statement, not a question. He knew. As Aric's priceless eyes looked to me I saw myself reflected in them. "You killed Drew," he continued. "Should give you a medal, luv. That was good." He placed the cup on the previous place.

A medal… I was going insane because of what I'd done and this guy wanted to give me a medal?

"I killed a person—I didn't swim in the Olympics like Phelps."

"You're point is?"

"I killed a person." I said a little louder.

"I know or we wouldn't be having this conversation right now." Aric's words silenced what I was about to say. "I knew she'd been the one hired to kill your parents, I knew that even if you got your boyfriend out without her there that she would eventually find you. Drew wasn't very friendly, luv."

"I know," I mumbled. "But I killed her—she was still a person."

"You're a person she would've killed you." Aric countered my logic with a pleased wag of his thin eyebrows.

"But… I wasn't like her—"

"And now you are?" He asked with a snort. "It's safe to assume you're going bullocks."

"What?" I asked astonished.

His eyes blinked once, then he inched toward me and I was glued to the headboard.

"You have bags under your eyes, you're pale and you kept looking around like there was someone else around us when I found you. It's like you're a soldier back from Vietnam, luv." Aric gave a brief smirk leaning away, giving me back my space.

How did he…? Well, he was a killer… but Nate never said it like that or Anna—Aric had stated what was wrong in the blink of an eye. Granted he had seen me looking to every corner and talking to myself all together—Nate and Ann had only seen me hallucinate for brief seconds and they had emotional ties to me, I could see how that could cloud their judgment.

"How did you...?"

"Let's leave at: I was top of my class, okay?" My eyebrows knitted softly.

"So," I cleared my voice. "If we're not in Atlanta—where are we?" Were we still in Georgia? Was it still the same day—or night?

"We're still in Georgia," I sighed relieved. "We're in Dawsonville, an hour away from Atlanta."

Aric surprised me when he cracked his neck to the side. That was one of Nate's ticks.

Nate... I couldn't go back, there was no way—not right now. I was seeing a dead person, hearing her and... I was believing her, she was driving insane. How was I going to face him and Anna after what I did?

"Is this your house...?" I tried to get my mind off my ghost, afraid she'd show up.

"It was my Mum's." He returned to his black office chair, propping his feet on the bed.

I scowled at his shoes on top of the covers.

"Did she give it to you?"

I hoped he wasn't the type to lash out when asked personal questions, if he didn't want to answer he could simply say—

"She's dead." He stated studying the inside of his glass.

Okay, so he wasn't a Nathaniel-type. That was good, I didn't want to get more bruises, though me and Nate were past that I wouldn't forget it.

"Was she an assassin?"

Aric's stare moved to me, it wasn't harsh or distanced, it was just... a simple look.

"Yes."

"Did she die in an assignment?"

Anna's Mother had died during one, so...

"No," he rolled his round nicely built shoulders. "You could say she died because she didn't know how to let go."

That was puzzling, but I figured I was already tempting my luck one step too far. Looking over his face I wondered what his plan was. Why was he the only one from the Order who didn't want to kidnap me? He kept saying he was special... It crossed my mind that Aric was the leader—or something, but... it didn't make sense. They were chasing me if he wanted them to get me or didn't care why would he send people after me...? Wow, my head just did a knot on itself.

"You're weird." I mumbled softly sinking into the pillow behind me.

Aric's eyebrow lifted with skepticism and a short smile spread over his lips.

"Most people say I'm gorgeous."

"And very modest." I rolled my eyes a little, I got dizzy fast.

"Modesty is a virtue, I've never been a big fan of those."

"Why are you the only one who doesn't come after me—well you do come after me, but you don't... take me to base or whatever you called it." I fingered the soft comforter.

"Did you ever considered that I'm just a nice guy?" Aric muttered, tone velvet soft as if he was trying to get my eyes to close.

I struggled against it, if I went to sleep there would be nightmares waiting, there normally were. They were worse when Nate wasn't around...

"You're a killer, working for a Cult—"

"I've told you I'm special."

"What is that even supposed to mean?" I questioned truly curious and tired of rattling my brain for answers.

Aric sighed with a loose smirk.

"Good things come to those who wait."

"Do you ever give straight answers?"

"Yes." He answered proudly as I groaned.

"But not to this particular question...?"

"No." I huffed imperceptibly.

My eyes were suddenly drawn to the window. I hadn't noticed until now, but I could see moonlight shining through and... stars?

"Where are we exactly?"

In a city you couldn't see stars, I'd never heard of Dawsonville—sure it wasn't a city, the name told me as much.

"This house is located in Dawsonville's Forest."

In a forest... I was in a forest with a guy who I knew nothing about—almost nothing. I could only hope he wasn't just a psychopath who was going to kill me and bury me in the woods. To top it off, I was having hallucinations.

"You should sleep, you need it." He said absently looking out to the forest. "If I wanted to hurt you, you'd be hurt—I've had so many occasions."

It was like he read my mind, how did people keep doing that? It was annoying, I couldn't do that to them. And I guess he had a point, if he wanted to I'd either with The Order or dead. I wasn't.

Aric was a stranger plainly put, he was a killer too. He couldn't judged because he didn't have ties with me—emotional ones and even if he did make harsh comments it wouldn't really hurt me.

Drew had said something what was it... Right! If I told about what was going on, what I was seeing both awake and asleep she'd go away... maybe.

It was worth the shot.