I always dream about this place and tonight's no different. It's old and the air carries a musky scent from years of dwelling. It's castle-like, with pale stone walls, mottled brown and black, a testament to time's decay. Regardless of its walls and the odd smell, it was meticulously maintained. Someone lived here.
At night, it's foggy, but I can still make out the dark blue hues of the hallway. Moonlight floods the hall, illuminating streaks of dust motes from the window. I bask in the beauty until I meet him. Every night I meet him.
I feel his fingers brush my sides. He hesitates like he's afraid to touch me. My body feels cold. I yearn for him, his touch. I step back until I feel my back touch his torso. I feel the warmth of his hands as he responds to my consent. His fingers gently crawl around my waist and meet at my tummy. He exhales deeply and rests his head against mine.
"Are you lost, my love?" I caress his entwined fingers as I tease him.
He presses himself into me and breathes me in, as if I'd disappear, "Every time we part, I feel lost," he whispers.
He moves my hair to the side and it tickles. A smile plays on my lips as I try not to laugh from the feeling. He presses a gentle kiss on the back of my neck and I shiver.
"How is that you always know when I'm awake?" I ask.
"I'm always awake in hopes that I'll run into you. Every time we meet it's fate," another kiss on my spine.
I pause for a moment. I always pause here, "you know I shouldn't be out here... with you."
"And yet, here you are. Again. With me." I feel his arms tighten around me, "I'm sorry I let this happen."
I always hear his sincere voice, and feel his hungry touch, but I never see his face. I feel the regret in his words. Fear begins to grow inside me. I want so badly to see his face but every time I try, all I see is darkness.
"I'll fix this, Millicent. I promise."
Hearing him say my name thrills me, but not knowing his name wounds me in a new way.
"We'll be together again," he pauses, hesitation in his voice, "Just please... wait for me."
The pain in his voice forces me to pull away and face him. I am frustrated because he has disappeared. Anytime I try to see him, he disappears. A love bound to a dream and nothing else. I feel empty.
Typically, the dream ends here, but this time is different. I don't get a chance to sulk. Suddenly, I am met with a new face. A man that looks like he is in his earlier twenties calls me.
"MILLICENT!"
I look at him wide-eyed, then we are running, running so fast that I am stumbling over obstacles I didn't even know were there. He holds my hand and pulls me along while the room is on fire and falling apart. It's chaotic and wild. The flames blaze violently while debris circles us like a predator, and angry voices fill the air. I can see the night sky, an antipode to the burning structure. The fire illuminates the man's dark brown hair while the wind roars through the building's fire-ravaged holes. I watch his hair blow in every direction as he looks for an escape. He suddenly stops and faces me, pain written across his features.
"Millicent, you need to wake up!" He yells. His eyes are desperate and his actions are frantic. "They're coming! Darkness is coming!" I don't know what to do.
"Millicent! PLEASE WAKE UP! WAKE UP!"
"MILLICENT! WAKE! UP!"
I panic and scream, "I CAN'T!"
I bolt upright, gasping for breath, and look around frantically. I'm disoriented. I scan the room nervously and find a sea of eyes looking at me with a mix of fear, shock and amusement.
I notice a hand on my desk and follow it to meet my history teacher's eyes. He looks at me with mixed emotions. He seems to be contemplating whether he should feel sorry for me or yell at me to get out of the class for disrupting.
"What the hell was that?" A boy hollers from the back of the class. This breaks the tense silence.
The class burst out into laughter.
Mr. Melrose turns to glare at the rest of the class and they fall quiet but some continue to snicker under their breaths. He turns his attention back to me. Maybe he's on my side.
"Millicent, this is the fourth time I've caught you sleeping in class this week, and it's only Tuesday! It's getting a little ridiculous!" He looks disappointed. He waits for a response, but I look at my desk shamefully. Yeah, definitely not on my side. He doesn't stop there, "drooling all over the desk like a child! C'mon! What's going on with you?"
The snickers turn into giggles and whispers. I squeeze my eyes tightly as anxiety begins to eat me alive. I still stand at my desk, frozen, unmoved even while feeling overwhelmed.
"Millicent!" He calls. I flinch. He wants me to say something but I can't. That dream left me feeling scared, terrified, and broken. That's all I felt.
"MILLICENT! Say something!" I don't, so he continues, "And this class," he pauses and walks to the front of the class, "This is what you don't want to do in your senior year-Not if you plan to get out of this God-forsaken town and do something with your lives."
I grab my backpack and scoop up my books messily. I keep my eyes on the door as I rush out of the classroom. So embarrassing! I race down the hallway, a rush of air roaring past my ears. I just want to get out here.
The next thing I know I collide with a hard figure, my books go flying and I stumble backward and fall onto my butt. Still feeling overwhelmed, my immediate response is to yell, "what the hell?! Watch where you're going!"
I fumble around with my things on the ground as I push them in my bag. I see a pair of pale hands start collecting the rest of my scattered books. A series of black and silver rings decorate his slender, ivory fingers. He offers my books to me, and I yank them from his hands. My eyes trail up his arm, tattoos peak from beneath his sleeve. Another hint of dark ink emerged from the collar of his black crewneck.
"I don't need your-"
My voice fails me when I look at the man's face. My mouth falls agape as worry and confusion fill me. I drop the books on my lap and rub my eyes roughly. I try to blink him away, but he's still there. I recognize the same dark brown hair, now illuminated by the sickly yellow hallway lights instead of fire. His eyes are soft brown, like his hair, yet they are narrow, and the look in them contradicts their warm colour. I watch as he stands and looks down at me. He observes me closely on the floor.
"You're-you're from my dream"
Another man approaches and stands next to him. His skin is smooth and velvety. His brown earth-toned skin seems to glow despite the sickly yellow lights. I feel even more confused. I breathe heavily and my heart races. Before I get a chance to comprehend him, I notice another figure standing in the distance at the end of the hallway. A wave of familiarity flows over me. I know him. I don't know how, but I know him. I know him and he looks at me with disdain. I feel so overwhelmed that my heart feels like it's about to burst.
"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?"