The Seventh One

For the sake of good, pure sleep. I did enjoy the feeling of being dreamless. Wandering around in a blank dream world that my unconscious mind had brewed up. Dazzling really, no ones life's to save here. No mystery. Just me...
Until I woke up... I woke with a start and jerked straight up in bed with my heart beating away in my chest. Bed. Not couch, I'd been moved during some point of my slumber. I took one big relaxing breath. Feeling quite worn out considering that I'd been sleeping. I brushed off the thought and rubbed the sleep from my eyes. The room was dark, so I slept longer than I'd originally planned. Oh well, even though I do not feel better rested, a little less actually, I feel great. But there was something I couldn't pin. Anxiety? It felt like it. And I felt like I needed to run, get away from here. I slumped my shoulders and looked up at the room surrounding me. It was very familiar. Odd since I'd only spent one night in it. The white walls, the desk under the big picture window. The various watercolor painting hanging neatly on the walls. This couldn't possibly be the Armstrong's sense of decoration. It was too... Modern. To simple looking without any complexity to it. No depth. Just a room full of nice, expensive furniture and second hand paintings. I blinked several times as the previous events of the day flooded back to mind. and the problem at hand too. Why I would be staying at Billie's. I surely wouldn't do that for the fun of it. I took one last glance around the room. Neat as a pin. Not a thing out of place. Too boring and dull to have a place in Billie's house. Well that's because it's not in Billie's house... It was mine.

I choked on my breath to prevent a scream of horror. the room, dark as it was, was still very visible to e. I could never forget how it looked. especially not after being gone little less than two days.
It was the same. And it was just as empty. Not even the tick of the clock on the wall. Not the loud bellow of the chime echoing throughout the bedroom when it striked midnight. No, empty silence. Apart from the eery stillness of the room that made me feel like I was sitting smack dab in the middle of a horror movie. But the fact that I was here. And that I was very alone. Billie wouldn't have dragged me back into my nightmare unconsciously, no. Big of a prank as that'd be. He knows me well enough to know that I'd probably have a stroke if I woke up out of the blue in my own bedroom. Then I came to a conclusion. It was a dream! The whole thing with Jessie and the demons was nothing more than a mere dream. I laughed lightly at the thought. Suddenly very happy with myself that I, Amy Lynn Scott had survived a major nightmare dream. This deserves a celebration. Some caffeine to keep me awake and hopefully allow me to forget. I can't bring myself to go back to sleep with that horrible dream still so fresh in my mind. But there is one thing... One thing that no dream can fix... Jessie. He's gone. for good, I can't change that. I had tried so damn hard in my dreams to make that happen. To change it all for a greater good. But no. Nothing changes. I'm still the same. And he is too. Wherever he is...
I walked down the dark hall. Noticing straight away that there was no electricity in the house. Which was unusual for Oakland. I brushed it off and made my way towards the kitchen. I still had sleep in my eyes and everything was a blur. I wouldn't Be able to make any caffeine packed drink this morning, I huffed a sigh. No electricity was killing me already. I turned and leaned against the counter trying to think up an alternative. When I saw the watercolor painting hanging on the opposing wall. My heart sunk like a rock. I was curious. The answers to rather or not this was all just a big dopey dream lied within that one piece of artwork. I moved towards it hesitantly. Brushing the ageless paint with my fingertips. Mesmerized. Here's the future. I gripped the edge of the wooden frame and pulled it aside. And my heart dropped farther into the abyss of my soul. Surely I couldn't be that lucky that this all would just end on the spin of a dime. Sure enough, the blackness of the crawlspace before me almost seemed inviting. But it also screamed at me that it was all real. Beyond real actually. This was my life. My reality. And it just came crashing in on me like a ton of bricks. I slowly turned to get a good look at thr rest of the house. Thr living room walls were still partially red. The officers had finished investigations I assume. Because a fresh coat of white paint was ove most of the wall. But still, the panic grasped my chest tightly. All I could do is gawk. The furniture was covered in sheets of heavy clear plastic. A new front door had been installed. Everything was slowly rejuvenating. But still.
I looked down at myself. I was still wearing thr same clothing that I had for days. Same old t-shirt, jeans, tank top and biker boots and creased lesther jacket.
I closed my eyes and swallowed back the fear that this was all real. Real as the air I'm breathing now. I turned around to face thr blackness of the crawlspace. Beckoning me almost. Maybe now it's time to finish this mystery. Even though another one lies on the brink. How the hell did I get here?
I took a deep, determined breath and climbed up into the crawlspace. And began climbing down the ladder. The moist, musky scent hit my nostrals before I hit the floor. I settled the soles of my shoes onto the dirt floor. Fear coursed through me as I looked aroun myself. The candles on the wooden shelves lining the walls were all lit. Every last one. But it wasn't from when me and Billie were down here. They were fresh. The wax hardly melted yet. I grabbed an thin white one and made my way down the hallway with the double doors. Which led to the sacrificial looking room. I took great fear as I approached them. One door left slightly ajar. The warn glow of more candles came from inside. I stood in the shadows and peered through. Several black figures knelt around the ring carved in thr floor. Chanting some kind of prayer. I watched them silently, too scared to make a sound cause if any of them looked my direction. I'd definitely be seen. I watched them finish they're prayers in awe. Black ashy cloaks dragged out across thr stone floor. Heads bowed to the center of the circle. It was very familiar. I'd even held it in my hands a few times. The ornate design of a vase. The maroon lid secured firmly on top. And when I say I held it before, I mean before it was filled... That was Jessie's urn. Where the ashy remains of his body were. This was beyond. Who the hell were these people and what were they doing in my house?
“Place on hand on my box, the other over your heart. Say goodbye. Say hello. I'll see you again tonight.” they whispered in low, gruff voices. This was beyond wierd and I had no one to vent this too. Knowing Billie, he was safely at home it was six thirty in the morning so of course he's sleeping in.
They looped the chant three more times before another figure stepped from the shadows dressed in a sleek crimson robe. Bearly knelt before the urn, whispered a handful of nearly inaudible prayers and lifted the lid. Spinning on it's heal and walking back to reside in the shadows.
I watched in horror as they chanted “Rise! Rise! Rise!” gradually getting louder until it was a shout that echoed off the walls.
The ashes rose from the urn and swirled in a tornado up into the air lashing out into a wider shape. Then.. The prayer instantly fell silent and the tornado of ashes lashed out and wiped the chanters. They turned to black dust on contact. Except one, who looked up expectantly in my direction. Oh crap, he saw me... I froze in fear. He had no face, just the black shadows of his robe. The crimson sleeve rose and pointed at me. But as I studied it, I realized that it wasn't directly at me, but behind me. I took a deep breath and looked down at my hands. I slowly turned to see my designated horror.
The figure was tall, easily eight inches higher than me. Walking towards me in the dimly lit hallway. It stopped three feet away from me. The light from my candle lit up it's face. I was happy that it even had one. But I can say now that it's not a 'it' but a he. The familarness swarmed over me in a warm wash. And I excepted it greatfully as I stared up into his face. The smirk on his perfect lips. His dirty blond hair of shoulder length. Ice blue eyes that glittered in the light. Light skin, muscular build. His sharp cheek bones and everything about him rushed back to mind. I hadn't seen him in five years. For one pretty permanent reason. Because he was dead. Because he, he is Jessie.