A part of me wanted to ignite a conversation between the two of us, but following our dispute I couldn't be certain what Luke would bite back with. I didn't want to risk setting his temper off again, not when my mind was already consumed with haunting thoughts.
The nightmare that had rigged my body last night had indented each of my nerves with a feeling I couldn't rid. It left me flinching at the smallest of noises, while a silence only left room for my brain to replay the excruciating outcry that had begged for my whereabouts. Despite the agony my body had been under in my unconscious state, the thing that stood out most to me was the screeched my name. I didn't recognise the voice but it appeared as if the Adelaide in my dream knew it all too well.
I had found myself on edge following my first night terror, but this one only confirmed my suspicions that another would arise. It left me longing to stay awake for an eternity, not wanting to open the passage for more traumatising scenes to come into play. I could only imagine what was to come next in the chilling story that left my lungs gasping for a simple breath of oxygen and relief for the pain that had surged through every inch of my trembling body and left my cheeks tight with anxiety.
"It's Arabic for wound," Luke said suddenly, his voice nonchalant as he motioned my wrist, where my fingers had absentmindedly been tracing along the ink carved into my skin. My eyes flew to his face, watching him as he sustained his eye line onto a page in his hands, refusing to meet my astounded gaze.
"What?" I blurted, inspecting the marking further.
Luke rolled his eyes, placing the paper onto the counter before folding his arms over his chest. "It's Arabic for wound," he repeated slowly, his voice surprising void from any patronisation.
"You speak Arabic?"
"No," he laughed quietly, shaking his head. "I just know the odd word here and there. One of which happens to be the sprawling you got knifed into your skin."
"Why the hell would I get the word wound tattooed?" I mumbled in disbelief.
He shrugged, "It's beyond me."
I continued tracing my fingertip along the outline, divulging into a coil of questions that I knew couldn't be answered. They appeared nevertheless, each a path to another dead end. Wound? The word didn't make sense in its placement, with the skin remaining seemingly untouched aside from the small fragments of ink. It was one thing for me to get the meaningless word in the first place, but for my parents to both be unaware of its translation was beyond absurd, considering the fact that Luke knew its meaning without question.
"You'll need a coat by the way," Luke said, his body now stilled in the doorframe. "It's cold out."
I stared at him dumbfounded, wanting to laugh at his consistency of jumping into a conversation out of no-where and without the slightest bit of context involved in his speech. He watched my expression in amusement, somehow finding my loss of understanding comical.
"We're going out," he informed as opposed to requested. "For a walk or something. Give you a break from all those thoughts you seem to be overloading yourself with."
"How'd you do that?"
"Do what?"
"That thing," I said, throwing my arm toward him. "Always knowing what's going on in my head, usually before I know myself."
"You're easy as hell to read," he stated simply. "Now go get your coat."
"It's summer Luke?"
"Have you been outside today?" I shook my head. "Then go on what I say and take a coat with you. I won't be giving you mine."
Chapter Eight
Start from the beginning
