Welcome to Nightmare Land |Complete|

Chapter thirteen

No one speaks for awhile after Emily leaves. The perplexity is strong and apparent in the atmosphere of the room. I reflect upon her parting words, trying to decipher what she meant. As I look around I see everyone else with furrowed eye-brows, because they didn't quite understand either.

"Well, what the hell does that mean?" Dylan finally asks, breaking the heavy silence.

Markus rubs his face while sighing. "The nightmares got so bad, she became suicidal."

"So that stopped it?" He asks.

"Not sure, it could have been the crap-load of Prozac she was put on." He responds, getting up. He walks over to the cupboard and takes out a bottle of liquor. After searching the small kitchen, he finds a glass and pours himself a drink. He returns to his seat, and takes a swig of the liquid.

We stare at him in silence expecting him to say more. He raises his eyebrows at us, and then slides the bottle to the middle of the table.

"Thirsty?" He questions us, gesturing to the half empty bottle.

Given the fact that we're way under the legal drinking age, I give him a peculiar look.  He finishes his entire glass in a series of gulps, before addressing me.

"What? You kids been through hell." He raises his hands in defense, then reaches over and grabs the bottle, pouring more of it in his glass. "I figured you could use a drink."

He pushes the bottle back to the center of the table, eyeing us. None of us budge, until Kellan leans over and picks it up. He unscrews the top and takes a few gulps. He coughs a couple of times, but continues drinking. His eyes are rigid and far-away.

The next few minutes are spent watching Kellan and Markus pass the bottle back and forth. I want to tell him to slow down on his intake but the smell is making my nauseous. I excuse myself and make my way outside.

Pressing my hands on the side of house, feeling it crumbling a bit under my pressure, I take deep breaths. I close my eyes focusing on not throwing up.

"You seem to be doing that a lot lately." Dem says, knowingly, from behind me. I don't respond, desperately trying not to be sick.

"Maybe we should leave." He suggests, leaning on the wall. "This place hasn't been much help."

I still don't answer, wiping the sweat from my forehead. I let out a small groan and close my eyes.

"Markus is a drunk, if you haven't noticed," He continues, almost to himself.  "Bottles are everywhere. He's probably trying ignore the fact that some entity kidnapped his sister, and now she's a freaking psycho."

He chuckles a little, but when I reopen my eyes  I see that his eyes have sadden a bit. Setting his jaw, he picks up a piece of debris and weighs it in his hand a little, before chucking it away with a loud grunt. He picks another and does the same, watching it smash into a tree and shatter into numerous pieces.