Grey

Chapter 36

He was on fire. I stood a few feet away from him, burning tears streaming down my face. My throat was raw from screaming. I couldn't move. I must've been chained to a wall or something. I could feel something digging into my wrists, but I couldn't turn my head to see what was holding me back from going and saving Grey. He was completely engulfed in flames. His screams were agonizing, like every single cell in his body was being ripped apart. Everything inside of me pulled, thrashed against the bite of what felt like metal around my wrists. I had to get to him, I had to.

"Grey, no no no, Grey, please," I screamed out. The bitter taste of iron curled in the back of my throat, as if I'd somehow ripped it open by screaming. Nonetheless, I screamed louder in agony, pulling as hard as I could against whatever was holding me back. I could feel something digging into my wrists deep now, and I could feel warmth trickling down the palms of my hands and to my fingertips. I cried out and pulled again, the fire that danced in his tear-ridden gaze making me want to tear myself apart to get to him. Those eyes were supposed to be blue, but now they were gold, alight with the fire that shredded his skin. I would do anything to get to him, and he knew it too.

And then, the smoke began to consume him until I could no longer see him. I screamed louder and pulled against whatever held me back, until I could feel the bones shattering in my wrist. I needed to get to him. I needed him. I could feel my heart grow empty and cold when the only sounds left were my screams and the crackle of Hellfire.

I shot upright, air flying into my lungs as I gasped for breath. I was in my room, in my home back in Colorado. I wasn't with Grey. However, I still felt like I could smell smoke lingering in the air. Sweat beaded on my forehead, a cool burn stinging my cheeks. I had been crying.

Surely that dream hadn't been real, right? It had felt like it, sure, but it couldn't be. Grey would never let someone do that to him. Sure, I had no idea where he was, but it- it couldn't be. If he was dying, somehow I'd know about it. Not entirely sure how, but I would. Surely.

I flipped the covers off of my legs and stumbled out of bed, my legs aching as I stretched them out and strode over to my window. It felt like I had just run a marathon. The dream had probably been so intense I'd had my muscles flexed for hours. Even my arms felt sore, which was odd.

It was still dark outside, and when I glanced sideways at the clock on my nightstand, I saw that it was only 2 am. I'd only been asleep for 4 hours. The dream had felt like it had lasted mere minutes. I was obsessing over this because I felt guilty about being home, that had to be what it was. As Riel had explained, Grey was likely safe, wherever he was. If whoever kidnapped him tried to kill him, they would lose their upper hand and would have nothing to bargain with. He had to be safe. I wasn't psychic, it was just a bad dream. Grey would be kept safe until I got to him. Then, I would do whatever they asked to get him back.

That was a slightly terrifying prospect. Would I really do whatever it took to get him back? I wasn't in love with him, I just felt guilty because he was taken to have a hold over me. That was all. So, no, surely I wouldn't do anything to get him back. I would be reasonable. If they wanted help doing something, as long as it was morally okay, sure. If they wanted money, I didn't have much, but they could have all they wanted. If they wanted to steal my soul out from under Grey and Riel-

I'd cross that bridge when I came to it.

I hoped that when I returned to Washington, Riel would have some ideas on how to get him back. I hoped he would figure out some way to Mature my soul so I could actually help. Riel didn't have a cellphone, otherwise I would've told him I'd left to go home for the holidays. I'm assuming he'd eventually figured it out, as he didn't just casually show up at my house the moment I'd gotten here. I didn't even know if he could do that. Was he able to know where I was without me telling him? All the times I'd seen him before, it'd been at Grey's house or something of the like, where he'd known how to find me. Maybe he was freaking out because he had no idea where I was. Maybe this was a poor decision. I probably should've told him so he didn't think whoever kidnapped Grey had gotten to me too. However, maybe that would serve as motivation for him to find Grey sooner. For all I knew, he'd figured it out already and gotten Grey back home. Riel was a good guy, that was a reasonable thing to assume.

Still, I felt sick to my stomach thinking about Grey. My dream had been just that, a dream. I just hoped it remained that way.

I made my way back over to my bed and layed back down, flipping my pillow over to the cool side and letting my eyes fall shut once more.

I stood underneath a massive oak tree, the gentle pitter patter of rain against leaves meeting my ears as I came to. Glancing around, I noticed I was alone. There were a few more deciduous trees around me, scattered across rolling green hills beneath an overcast sky. Much better than my last dream.

It was only when I saw the rounded grey stones sticking up from the earth that I realized where I was. A graveyard.

I let out a little breath as my feet began to move, walking over to the nearest headstone and looking down. There was a hole dug out into the wet earth, a mahogany casket sitting at the base of it. The wood was polished and I saw my reflection staring back at me. I looked different. I couldn't explain why, but the woman looking back at me was not one I knew. The sound of raindrops against the wood of the casket pulled me out of my head and I slowly raised my gaze up to the headstone. It was blank, but had a date written at the bottom.

December 24, 2019

That was tomorrow. How could there be a grave for someone who hasn't died yet? That was odd. When I looked back down at the casket, I realized a single pink rose now rested atop the polished mahogany. I glanced quickly around to see who had thrown it, but I was still alone. Only when I felt a sting in my hands did I glance down. A single thorn had pricked the skin of my hands, in which I held a bouquet of pink roses.

Once again, I shot out of bed, breathless and crying. Grief settling on my chest like a weighted blanket, making it harder to breathe. I didn't even know who I was dreaming about, how could I feel grief for someone I didn't know? Let alone for someone who hadn't died yet.

My room now had light filtering in through the blinds, silver from the winter sun. I quickly wiped my eyes dry and pulled myself out of bed, my muscles screaming as I did so. I was absolutely exhausted. It was almost like I hadn't slept at all. Logically, I knew that they had only been dreams, but they'd given my body a terrible reaction. I felt ill.

After brushing my teeth and washing my face, I lumbered downstairs. My parents sat on the couch, watching the news. My mom had a mug of coffee in her hand, watching the screen avidly. My father was eating pop-tarts next to her, scrolling through his phone absentmindedly. My brother, James, wouldn't be up for a while.

"Morning, sweetie," my mom offered me a tight lipped smile before taking a drink. My dad glanced up at me and gave me a smile.

"Morning," I mumbled back.

"Someone was found dead at your school this morning," my mom sighed and I felt my stomach fall through my body. No way. Not possible.

"What?" I breathed out in shock, turning to look at the television screen. They were still broadcasting the weather. I'm surprised news from Washington made it all the way to Colorado, but I suppose a random death would do it.

"Yeah, some girl named- was it Addison?" She briefly glanced to my father, who shrugged, obviously not listening.

My heart began to race in my chest as the news changed stories, broadcasting a picture of a smiling blonde girl with brilliant blue eyes. No. No, it wasn't possible. They were wrong.

"Oh, Allison, I was close," my mom spoke, but her voice seemed drowned out, like I was underwater. My legs began to shake beneath me, like the combination of nightmares and the shock of my best friend's death had proven too much for them to hold. Tears budded in my eyes and I felt my chest clench in a futile attempt to hold it in, as I usually did. But as the grief and shock swelled in my chest, my resolve began to shatter.

Allison. Dead. Those were the pink roses. Those were the pink roses.