Dead Dreams

Fifteen

Without opening my eyes, I climb up from the warmth of the blankets. The cold stagnant air of the house is the first thing I feel. That's unusual. It doesn't typically feel like this. I peel open my eyes slowly to try to get them to adjust to the- darkness. I forgot there was no light here besides the electricity. How is that even able to run anyway?

I throw the question away with the many others as I scan the room. There's a dresser with a few things on top, a stained glass lamp, colorful bottles, perfume I think, as well as what looks like makeup? I turn to look to the front of the room, which has a number of shelves with many, many books. Here and there is a nook, separating the books and depicting some intricate scenes. A desk is at my right, a quill and paper the only things I can see. There were three doors in the room. They were on every wall except for the one behind me. Altogether, the room tied together nicely, the dark colors not looking dreary, but feeling clean with the addition of house plants and other pretty things.

With as many things in the room, it should feel full, but it doesn't.

I pull my legs up to my chest to try and negate the feeling but it doesn't work.

My eyes roam the room again, but this time they catch on the bedside table, which I hadn't noticed before. On top of the stand is a baby pink paper, with writing on it. I crawl across the bed and pick it up. The light from the stars is enough to make out what it says.

Ruth, I hope that you slept well, and are feeling better.

I personally woke up feeling great, but as I made my way down stairs and into the kitchen and pantry, my mood dampened significantly. It seemed that I had run out of things to make, and I just hate serving my guest subpar food. After much dawdling, I must make my way to the store to pick up some things. I really did not want to leave you after last night, but I believe that I can make it back home before you wake up.

If not, then I will make my way back as soon as I can. There are some leftover pancakes for you in the fridge, feel free to have as many as you like. Once I have all the ingredients, could you please inform me of your favorite dish? I want to make it for you.

Until then,

Iris

I almost laugh at the amount of embellishment in the note. I imagine Iris at his desk writing in clean Strokes, smiling as usual, but with a hint of playfulness in his eyes. He was probably dead quiet so he didn't wake me up.

I must have been scared out of my mind, asking him to let me sleep in his room, in his bed. But when I asked him, he didn't even flinch, calmly leading me to his room. He didn't and hasn't made me feel weird for making that request. Without even counting last night, he has catered to me through everything. It makes me feel bad. I can't give him anything back and he knows it.

I sigh, leaning back into the headboard bringing the note to my side and scanning over the words again, some lingering, others fading.

Then one word sticks.

Store. Store. Store. St-

I rip the sheets off of me in one movement, running over to his desk and sorting through everything, looking for a map. My plans have just been changed.

If Iris was going to the store he found me in front of, I was screwed. The group was probably still in there. If he ran into them, I needed to hope to whatever god existed in this world that he didn't have a second personality. He would immediately know that I had lied to his face, if not after he asked them a few questions.

I needed to go there now.

Miraculously I find what I'm looking for in a different drawer, a few locations marked and labeled with distance recorded between each. A line goes from each location to one singular point, which I can assume is where I currently stand. I fold it back up and take it with me as I rush out of the room and downstairs, into my room where my things are ready for me.