Asylum

Dream Walker

Ren doesn't respond. Instead, he looks down. He stares at his hands but his mind wanders elsewhere. "I see."

I know there's more to Ren's story than he's told us. I know he killed his older brother, but I doubt that's the end to his troubles. The amount of internal damage that Ren has undergone is obvious proof of at least that much.

The plane jumps, jerking its passengers around a bit. Ren death-grips the armrests, but ends up pinching my arm instead since it was lounging there. The plane lurches again. As if possible, Ren's hold tightens. "Shit," he bites.

Once the ride steadies, I pluck his hand off my arm. There's a deep red mark on my fair skin, and I cross my arms to hide it. "Why do you hate air travel so much?" I question as Ren orders yet another drink to diminish his fears.

"I'm more of a land guy." Which makes sense. There's a reason you don't see fire high in the sky; low oxygen and high precipitation.

Ren throws back another drink. Despite the strong stench and clear evidence that he should be drunk, he doesn't stutter or slur or behave like a drunkard. "How are you still sober?"

"Alcohol is the fiery drink of the dragons," he explains, gesturing to the black marking that coils up his arm. "It doesn't affect me."

Comprehensively, I nod. "I'm going to try to get some sleep. You should, too," I suggest, tilting my head back and closing my eyes.

"Kya, you don't sleep," Ren reminds me.

"I think today is a special occasion," I mumble, feeling overrun with exhaustion for the first time in a long, long time. For once, I find myself consumed in the welcoming tendrils of slumber. And joining me in those tendrils: a nightmare that doesn't belong to me.

I'm running for my life, scrambling away from a man with glowing eyes, navy hair, and the look of a crazed man. Tear streaks paint his light tan face all over, and in the man's hands, a sword that swings for my legs and my back. I dart through a series of hallways I've never seen before, but can somehow navigate as if I've grown up here all my life. I barge into a spacey room with the color scheme of red and gold. Hanging on the wall is a sword similar to the man's.

I rip it down and unsheathe it, getting a glimpse of my irises, which aren't a pale gray anymore, but a burning gold. For the first time, I notice I have a marking up my left arm: a dragon.

The door to this room is shattered as the older man kicks it down. Someone else; a younger man with white hair and similar gold eyes yanks on my attacker's sleeve. "Leave him alone, Xavier, please!" He too, cries.

"Get off!" Xavier screeches, shoving the boy down. "He killed Dad, Malakai! I refuse to let this stand..."

"It was an accident!" I blurt out, tears falling down my cheeks now, as well. "Please...I love you! You're my brother, I never meant to hurt you."

"But you meant to hurt Dad," Xavier growls like a feral dog. Then all at once, he lunges for me, his sword but a blur of silver. Somehow, I raise my own weapon and parry the blade, inexplicably wielding the blade like an expert. I sprint away, past elderly men and women similarly dressed in old fashioned robed, who urge me to run faster. I take off towards a series of steps that seem to stretch down a grassy hill. Behind me, there's a monstrous roar. "I've been trying to kill you for weeks. I can try for a few more. You won't live much longer, Ren!"

A tinier voice belonging to the boy named Malakai, whines, "Run, Ren!"

The plane jumps a bit, waking me from my sleep. Or rather, Ren's sleep. Ren, whose head rests soundly on my shoulder. I suppose he took my suggestion to rest, after all. My gut urges me to resume my sleeping, not for my own health, but to learn more about Ren. I know he won't tell me everything about his past. Somehow, I'm seeing what he dreams of, and I'm not letting this opportunity go to waste.