Long Awaited

Chapter 2

I've always despised the idea of sleeping.

The dreams? Oh, they're a whole different story. Strange, twisted scenarios that could be somewhat tolerable if only I could have up a dream featuring a hot, sexy vampire – I mean, just a regular dream, you know?

But the irony is, instead of feeling rejuvenated after a night of sleep, I wake up more exhausted than when I first closed my eyes. And recently, I've come to a revelation of who I got this constant tiredness from.

I simply blame it on the old man – my dear old dad. He's got the sleep-resistant genes, a true pro at pulling all-nighters. I marvel at his ability, considering I can barely make it past a single day without falling asleep.

So here I am, floating in this semi-dream state, desperately yearning to wake up.

Correction: I needed to wake up.

The more I whispered those words to myself, the more the fog that held me captive began to lift. Summoning every ounce of my willpower, I attempted to pry open my eyelids, but all my efforts ended in failure. Yet, quitting was not an option. No matter how drained I felt, I persisted.

I pushed against the resistance.

For what felt like an eternity, failure greeted me with each attempt, almost convincing me that my body had hit the point of no return.

And then, like a beacon of hope, a sudden burst of light flooded my vision. It was blinding, to say the least. I had to blink several times before my eyes adjusted. But as my surroundings gradually came into focus, I found myself in a place entirely unfamiliar.

The room surrounding me was a surprise, a space I'd never laid eyes on before. Its design was a harmonious blend of beauty and comfort, wrapping me in a sense of safety I hadn't expected. The walls wore a perfect shade of grey, striking the balance between darkness and light. Two bookshelves stood proudly, crammed with priceless books that, in a whimsical twist, brought to mind my own cherished literary creations back home. The opposite side was draped in blue curtains, veiling the outside world from my view. Yet, even with the curtains drawn, the room basked in a welcoming glow.

As I sat up from the embrace of the bed, a tantalizing scent wafted through the air, a captivating blend of ocean breeze with a subtle hint of forest. It was so enchanting that my mouth watered at the mere thought, and I couldn't fathom ever growing tired of it.

But reality tugged me back as I shook my head, attempting to gather my thoughts. Instead, the memory of the monstrous creature from the other night, the one Sprite called a Deviant, flooded back. The Deviant had sunk its teeth into me, and the recollection of that moment lingered, an unsettling echo.

With a swift motion, I yanked the blue silk-like blankets off, exposing my legs. A hasty check revealed no scars or scratches, leaving me bewildered. "How...?" I breathed, almost a whisper, a question hanging in the air.

The possibility of it all being a wild, fantastical dream crossed my mind, but doubt crept in. The pain I experienced as the creature tore into my bone was too visceral, too real. Memories of Dane and Sprite desperately trying to stop the bleeding echoed in my mind, grounding the surreal experience.

The mere thought of the state I must have been in brought bile to my mouth, emphasizing the urgency of finding a bathroom. Despite the urge, I pushed it aside, swinging my feet off the bed and onto the smooth wooden floor. As I rose, my legs wobbled, and I quickly sought support against the reassuring embrace of the wall.

"I've got this."

With a deep breath, I peeled myself away from the wall, letting my legs readjust to the idea of standing. Once convinced I wouldn't tumble onto the floor, I ambled over to the curtains and drew them apart. There, before me, was a door leading to a balcony with a view of the sprawling grounds below.

Peering through the glass, I realized I was perched quite high up. The notion of a dramatic escape by leaping off the balcony was swiftly dismissed, especially with raindrops lightly drizzling from the dark sky.

Sighing, I resigned myself to using the door that led to goodness knows where. Approaching it, I cautiously reached for the handle, gently easing it down to pull the door open, all the while trying my best to avoid making a racket.

Stepping through, I found myself in a corridor with stairs descending on the left and an antique sword proudly displayed in front of me. Without a second thought, I grabbed the weighty blade, preparing to navigate the steps.

Reaching the bottom, I stole a cautious glance into the room. No one in sight. Gripping the weapon with both hands, I ventured inside.

The room unfolded with a bar to the left, adorned with stools, while a semicircle of couches on the right surrounded a central table. Just as I was about to lower the sword, a boy a few years older than me strolled in, engrossed in a book. With dark brown hair and an air of obliviousness, he looked up, locking eyes with me before I could find a hiding spot. His blue orbs widened in pure shock and disbelief.

Without giving him a chance to react, I swung the sword in my hands, ready for whatever came next.