Rise and Fall [[BEING MOVED TO ANOTHER ACCOUNT]]

Chapter Five

<pre style="text-align: center; background: white;"><tt><span style="font-size: 20pt; font-family: DaunPenh;">Five</span></tt></pre>

<pre style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .5in; background: white;"><tt><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">I wake disoriented. The darkness of night has fallen completely, and the rain has tamed to a drizzle. I'm in a car. I'm alone. But wait, there's someone with me. A girl. She's watching me. Her eyes are warm. So am I, though I know that I wasn't. Before. On the road, and in the woods before that. Before...</span></tt></pre>

<pre style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .5in; background: white;"><tt><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Every little detail crashes down on me then, and I gasp for air. Reaching for the handhold that I know is not there. But suddenly her hand is there, and I have a handhold at last. She pulls me up from the depths I've created for myself, and makes the drop not quite as far. The pit is still bottomless, though. Even she can't fix that.</span></tt></pre>

<pre style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .5in; background: white;"><tt><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">"We're almost there," Sasha says. Her hand squeezes mine and withdraws, and I look up at her through bleary eyes. She looks exhausted, and I long for her to stop the car and lean into me. To sleep against my shoulder. My chest. Anything. It's irrational. But when has the mind of a boy ever been a rational thing?</span></tt></pre>

<pre style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .5in; background: white;"><tt><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">I nod. The familiarity of my silence welcoming me like an old friend. It IS an old friend. My oldest.</span></tt></pre>

<pre style="text-indent: .5in; background: white;"><tt><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">I doze off again in the absence of conversation. After what feels like seconds, I'm woken by two words. "We're here." A look of relief crosses her face, and for a moment, she relaxes completely. Sagging slightly in the driver's seat. I regard her with quiet eyes, and she casts a quick look at me as I shift in her peripheral. She sits up straight again. Not allowing herself to be weak in front of me. "Let's go."</span></tt></pre>

<pre style="text-indent: .5in; background: white;"><tt><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">The car is parked in front of some sort of building. The night hides its mass, and distorts its shape. The windows are dark, and without the hum of the car, the world is eerily silent. Sasha walks ahead of me with purpose, and I can only follow her. She knows where she is, and where she's going. I wish I could say the same.</span></tt></pre>

<pre style="text-indent: .5in; background: white;"><tt><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">The silence is stabbed by the sound of jangling keys, and the outburst of whispered curses as I trip over my own feet. The door is well oiled, and doesn't make a sound as Sasha pushes it open, and pulls me inside by my arm. </span></tt></pre>

<pre style="text-indent: .5in; background: white;"><tt><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">The inside of the house is as silent as the out, and I wonder if there's anyone here at all, or if it's just us. Somehow, the possibility that we might be alone scares me more than the latter.</span></tt></pre>

<pre style="text-indent: .5in; background: white;"><tt><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Sasha takes my arm again, and leads me expertly through the darkened halls. There’s solid floor beneath me, even though the darkness mirrors an abyss. "You can sleep here," she says,  voice hushed as we’ve finally come to a stop. Hands find my chest, and guide me into a sitting position. My own hands find softness. "You'll have a room tomorrow, but for now, the couch will do. You'll meet the others in the morning." </span></tt></pre>

<pre style="text-indent: .5in; background: white;"><tt><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">My breath catches in my chest. So there are others. She's saved others. My heart begins to pound, and my throat constricts. My brother's name echoes around my mind. Keyne, Keyne, Keyne. Has she saved him, too? I want to tear the place apart in search of him, but I know I shouldn't get my hopes up. I don't even know if Keyne is alive, and assuming the best never makes the truth any easier</span></tt></pre>

<pre style="text-indent: .5in; background: white;"><tt><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">I nod into the darkness. "Okay," I say, and my voice shakes. I hear her weight shift, and as my eyes adjust, I see a hand coming out of the blackness. I start as it touches my cheek, and Sasha laughs quietly.</span></tt></pre>

<pre style="text-indent: .5in; background: white;"><tt><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">"Night, Alek," she says, and I hear her footsteps recede. </span></tt></pre>

<pre style="text-indent: .5in; background: white;"><tt><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">"Night," I whisper to the silence, and sink slowly onto my side. Reluctant to close my eyes, and succumb to the nightmares, I stare into nothing. Soon, the pressure on my eyelids beats me, and my eyes begin to close. I try to fight it, but I can't, and I sink into hell.</span></tt></pre>

<pre style="background: white;"><tt><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span></tt></pre>

<pre style="text-indent: .5in; background: white;"><tt><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">There's fire. Endless fire. Walls of flame that crackle and spit, and the lower brush fires that melt my shoes, and then my feet, as I try to run away. There was something in my hand, but it's gone now. Just like that night. Just like every night after it. My dream self is always slow to realize what it is it has lost. I remember, though, and it makes the other me remember too. No matter how long it takes, I always do. I never wake until the memory sets in. Until I scream. Sometimes it's his name, Keyne, and sometimes it's just a sound. A sound of pure pain. Loss. Agony. It rips from within me, and I wake with a start. Chest heaving. Sheets soaked with sweat, and tangled around my shaking body. But right now, there's only fire. Fire, and foreboding. And the shadow of a scream.</span></tt></pre>