Streak of Black

The battle replays in my sleep, and I awaken in a cold sweat, pain encompassing my body. I'm screaming, and Ryder, whose arm was draped across my stomach, jolts up immediately as I cry out. He sits up and pulls me gingerly into his lap, shushing me gently and stroking my hair. I've never felt pain like this. It manifested itself both physically and mentally, and while I have no physical marks, the battle that I waged with Monique took a lot out of both of us. I think that the fact that we were both hurt so badly is part of the reason why I'm affected so badly.

Tears stream down my face as Lovett quietly enters the room, having heard and felt my pain. I have a feeling that he hasn't slept at all. He sits on the bed next to us, and I climb off of Ryder's lap to curl up against my brother. Ryder continues to stroke my hair as Lovett gives me a brief hug. I black out again with my head resting against my brother's shoulder.

The next time I awaken, I'm still in immense pain, but I can maneuver a bit more without yelling from the pain. Ryder is again lying beside me. This time, Lovett didn't even leave—he's curled up in my aunt's old recliner in the corner of the room.

Both boys have to be exhausted, so I let them both sleep and slip out of the bed, half tip-toeing, half limping out of the room. Outside, I clamp my mouth over my fist to keep the screams of agony cooped up inside. Pain radiates through my body and focuses on my hand. I glance up, tears smearing my vision, and notice that the sun is rising in the distance outside the bay window.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Kenley asks, shocking me as he steps out of the shadows of his room and into the hall.

I take my fist out of my mouth, knowing how ridiculous I must look. "We should really start putting a bell around your neck," I whisper, the room beginning to swim.

He chuckles lightly. "Then how would I scare you." A playful but mischievous grin plays at the corners of his mouth. "What are you doing up? You don't look so good."

"I was thirsty. I was just going for some water."

He looks at me with concern and helps me sit down on the ground. The hall becomes a bit more focused. "Wait here," he tells me before disappearing around the corner and descending silently down the stairs.

Now that I'm alone, I realize what a bad idea it may have been to get up. I really am in a lot of pain. I close my eyes and rest my head between my knees, dizzy. When I look up, I see a shadow dancing across the wall. It's a male's shadow. A man with broad shoulders, a hat, and a long coat. I feel like I'm going to vomit.

I look up and down the hallway. There's no one there. Just the shadow. But when I look back up, it's changed. It's still the man, but now, he's moving towards me as the shadow gets bigger. His hands are raised in the air, and a gun is in one of them. All I see is the shadow though. It makes no sense!

He stops when the shadow is directly in front of me. I can't speak or scream. All I can do is sit there and stare in horror at the dark, looming shape.

And then the gun goes off.

I scream briefly, and my head shoots up as Kenley takes his hand away from my shoulder. Ryder and Lovett are out in the hall in a second. Doors open, and sleepy teenagers glance out warily. Lovett takes the water from our cousin and thanks him as Ryder picks me up. He follows Ryder into the room, and no one says a word. All I can see when I close my eyes is the shadow on the wall.

I don't sleep anymore that night.
* * * * *
I don't tell anyone what I saw. No one needs to know. That wasn't a vision—it's what I most fear.

Monique is messing with me.
* * * * *
The next afternoon, I awaken from a nap, not having fallen asleep until well past five in the morning. Ryder and Lovett are gone, but Lunette is beside me on the bed with a bowl filled with water that has a rag draped over the side.

"Where are the boys?" I ask, looking around and struggling to sit up.

"I sent them away," she whispers with a smile, dipping the rag into the water and placing it on my forehead. It's cold. "You need your rest, and having them sitting around and looming over you is no way to get it."

I shiver when she says the word looming, beginning to re-experience last night’s dream.

"I hope it's not too cold. You felt a little feverish to me—I figure it's because of that fight that you seemed to be having."

"What do you mean? Was I talking?"

"No, but your lips moved as if you were. They were moving rather slowly—you were out for quite some time. And, while no one else will probably say anything to you, your body was being thrown around the room, as if you were possessed or in some horror movie from the seventies. It was quite scary."

I shiver again. "I think I'm okay, tante. I think I just need to rest." I take the cold towel off of my head and place it back in the bowl, careful not to let the water slosh around too much. "Thank you though."

I hope I haven't scared you too much, dear. I just—I always had a feeling that there was something special about you. I don't know if it was just subconscious because of my knowledge of the Prophecy or just something about you, but it was just a feeling that was always there. You've grown into such a beautiful young lady." She shifts my hair away from my face, gently running her fingers down my scar. "I noticed this yesterday when you were thrashing about. It's a battle scar, something you should never try to hide, especially from your family. Wear it proudly, dear."

"Thank you, I will." I give her a hug, and she picks up the bowl and walks out of the room, leaving me alone once again.