Cowboys & Nightmares

Chapter Four

I'm falling. The dreams always have me falling. There is nothing around me but emptiness, yet it suffocates me without slowing the plummet. There is no color, no space; just me, the blank nothing, and gravity pulling toward something.

I hit, finally, and the air is knocked out of me. I sit up carefully, taking time to see if anything is broken after such a fall; thankfully, no. There is still nothingness, but there is; I have to be sitting on something. I stand, trying to feel for anything else.

"Well, you finally showed up."

Her once silky voice floats toward me, chilling my blood and raising my hackles. I turn toward her, the nothingness around me slowing me as if I am a fly trapped in honey. She is dressed just like I remember, from the overly decorated wedges, to the too skinny jeans, to the blouse that shows too much skin.

I bite down a snarl. "What do you want?" I spit.

She scoffs, waving a manicured hand at me. "Now that's no way to act, we have company." She points a pink french tipped nail behind me. I turn again, anger turning to fear as he steps forward.

Seth smirks, rolling his powerful shoulders. "Really, Rylie, when we get married, you'll have to fix that." He struts forward, the nothing around us not hindering him. I, on the other hand, can't move. He takes my chin in his hand, tilting my face up. "Where's my greeting?"

He plasters his slimy lips on mine, receiving a hard slap on the cheek. He snatches my fingers, and I feel a crunch as he squeezes. "Now, now, Ry," he coos, "that's not very nice. You better get used to it."

Saliva hits his face. "Never," I sneer, the joy at seeing my spit anger him being quickly overridden by the snarl on my lips.

He shrugs, a smile curling his mouth unnaturally, as if it shouldn't be there. It scares me. "Then I guess we'll have to do this the fun way." He points to her. "Whenever you're ready."

Mother is holding a revolver, though I have no idea where it came from in this empty place. She points it at something. "Say goodbye, Rylie," she sneers, cocking back the hammer.

I follow the aim of the handgun, to where a man sits tied to a chair only a few feet away. His face is battered and beaten, with a swollen black eye and blood matting his hair. He looks up at me, and all I see in his eyes is betrayal. Dad.

The sound of the gun firing echoes in this nothingness, ringing off walls that aren't there and shattering sound barriers that don't exist here. There is an explosion on the side of his face, and he falls, the chair going with him. Liquid crimson leaks out of his head, and brain matter is everywhere around him. His eyes, though empty, are stained with the memory of betrayal.

I scream as loud as I can, hoping it can carry Dad's spirit out of this place and to where it belongs.

I flung myself from the mattress, catching myself before crumpling to the ground in sobbing fits. Each one tore from my throat, racking and shaking my body. I clutched my sides, tears streaming down my face. The image of Dad laying in his blood, lifeless, ripped me into thousands of pieces, and it felt like they wouldn't fit back together the same way.

My door opened, then footsteps quietly entered and approached me. Dune crouched next to me, placing his hand on my back tenderly. I tried vainly to move away; every touch felt like his. Yet I didn't have enough strength to do more than lean away, and Dune simply let his hand follow. I weakly raised a hand to bat him away. Instead, he took it to mean something else, and wrapped his warm fingers around my trembling ones, his thumb running over the knuckles.