Define Normal

Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

That night I dreamed that I was searching for my mother.

I was running in the shadows, keeping to the side streets as I rushed to our back-up rendezvous point. She hadn’t made it to our original one so it must have been compromised. I ran faster, my gut telling me that I needed to hurry. My lungs were burning from the exertion of running and from the unexpected confrontation that I’d had earlier. This was supposed to be an easy fact finding mission for us. As it turned out, someone wanted to keep the information we were looking for a secret and they were willing to kill for it.

I winced as my elbow brushed a little too hard against my badly bruised ribs. I’d taken on three over muscled thugs at once who’d surprised me while I’d been on lookout. I’d quickly sent my mother the signal before I was being attacked. I’d managed to get away but it had been a close call.

I was getting closer now, only a hundred more feet before I made it to our rendezvous. As I ran by an alleyway, something caught my eye and I skidded to a stop. I heard a low moan and a sense of dread settled over me. “Scarlett?” I said quietly, using my mother’s code name. We’d never actually seen Gone with the Wind but we’d promised each other that one day we would.

“Jade,” she said, quietly, her voice raspy with pain.

I stood at the mouth of the alley, staring at my mother lying in a pool of her own blood and I couldn’t move.

“Jade,” she said again, this time more loudly.

“Jade!” she shouted and it seemed like her voice was right in my ear.

Suddenly a hand gripped my shoulder and I reacted reflexively, grabbing the guy by the throat.

“Jade, let me go,” Abby croaked, scratching at my wrist. I blinked and released her, making her collapse on the bed next to me, coughing as she dragged air back into her lungs.

“Abby,” I said, sitting up, my mind instantly alert as I scanned my room for any threats and finding none. “Jesus Abby, I’m sorry,” I said, reaching my hand out to hover over her shoulder, not sure what to do.

She lurched up into a sitting position and glared at me. “You are so crazy.” Her voice was hoarse and she rubbed her throat, wincing as her fingers moved over the red patches that were forming on her sensitive skin.

“You need ice,” I said, leaping out of my bed in one swift move.

“Stop.” She cleared her throat and put her hand down as I turned back to look at her. “I’m okay,” she said and her voice was a bit clearer this time. “I shouldn’t have snuck up on you. I’m sorry.”

I blinked, resisting the urge to ask her to repeat that just in case I’d heard her wrong. “It’s not your fault,” I mumbled, coming back towards the bed and sitting on the edge, twisting so that my left leg was propped up on the mattress and my right leg was still on the floor. “Are you sure you’re okay?” I asked, eying the finger sized red marks on her throat dubiously.

She waved her hand dismissively. “Nothing a little make-up can’t fix.” Her head tilted to the side as she stared at me, searching my face for answers. “Were you having a bad dream?”

“What makes you say that?” I asked, stiffening.

She shrugged. “You were making these weird noises in your sleep. You were sort of whimpering and you kept saying ‘Scarlett’ over and over. Who’s Scarlett?”