Wake

Chapter 3

Lucie

Maybe it was a dream. Maybe it wasn't. Nowadays it was impossible to tell.

I was in and then out and then in and then out, and this had been the case for an immeasurable amount of time now. I thought I'd counted up to a week, but eventually, I lost track. I didn't even know if I was thinking at all.

So, yeah, maybe it was a dream.

The room was cold and bleak, all bathed in monochrome, like a blank canvas. I scanned it, but all I saw was white: white walls, white floor, white ceiling. Even the bench I sat on was white, clean enough and bright enough to hurt my eyes. I was squinting, and that was when I saw him: my brother, approaching me.

His footsteps echoed off the walls as he grew nearer; he paused before the bench, smiling down at me. Dempsey's chestnut-colored skin was a splash of color against his alabaster suit, which blended in with the rest of the cool, distant place. I wanted to stand up, to ruffle the dark curls of his hair, to thrust my arms around his svelte form.

But I couldn't move. I hadn't been able to save him then and I couldn't now.

His smile was glaring, too sweet, too bright. Something was wrong.

He moved then, taking a seat beside me on the bench. That was when I knew it couldn't have been real—not only was my brother dead, but he would have put an arm around me, would have pulled me to his chest and apologized and told me everything was going to be okay. Instead, he sat there, still.

"It's been weird over here, lately," he said, and I swallowed. The voice was undeniably Dempsey's.

"Over here?" I questioned, tugging on a spiraling tendril of my own hair. "What does that mean? Where are you?"

He looked at me—no, through me. "I am where I'm supposed to be. Yet, nothing like it's supposed to be."

"Dempsey?"

"This world is falling apart, Lulu," he said, turning away again, scrutinizing the unyielding brightness around him. I traced his profile, the gentle slope of his forehead and nose, the arch of his lips and chin. He was here, I thought, but where was here? I knew nothing anymore, just that was I trapped somewhere from which I couldn't escape. "I was finally where I belonged, and then everything began cracking and crumbling. Something's wrong. I can't seem to find my footing anymore—the balance. The balance, it is all wrong, Lulu."

I turned away, dropping my gaze. "The balance..."

"I don't know why. Do you know why?"

I shook my head. "I don't know a thing."

"Well, I know something," Dempsey answered. He got to his feet, though the movements were sharp and inconsistent, as if he wasn't doing so of his own volition. "I know that if it isn't fixed soon, it's going to be bad. I think you can fix it—if you wake up."

Wake up. They were two words, but somehow they were everything. I turned to him again, my eyes wide, my hands suddenly shaking. I had no idea why I was shaking. "Wake up?" I repeated. "But I can't. I can't wake up, Dempsey."

"Maybe because you haven't tried hard enough, Lulu," he responded. He tilted his head, smiling a bit more, then taking a step back. He took another, and another, until he began to fade altogether, merely a mirage that had just been present for a fleeting moment. "You can save me. You can save us all. You just have to wake up."

Then, he was gone.

And up until then, I hadn't known. I hadn't known how severely trapped I was. I hadn't known what I'd been fighting for.

I hadn't known how much I wanted to be free.