*WARNING* this chapter contains crude language that may offend some readers! This story is PG-13 and therefore I can have that kind of stuff. I don't like writing with curse words unless it's used for characterization. Sorry if you are offended, no rude comments!!
I woke that next morning in my bed groggily. I woke up after short bursts of sleep and had to move to a different position in order to return to my dreams. But, I guess they were more like nightmares.
My brain can only remember glimpses and pictures of my dreams. But the emotions I feel that come along with them, are very, very real. I only saw flashes of people and places. Like when lightening hits and big boom of thunder resounds, I could subconsciously feel my body react with violent, almost contraction like movements. I dreamed of images of Dylan, his smirk gone and an evil laugh replacing it. I dreamed of Christina and Cameron pointing and laughing at me. I dreamed one of my Knight Dreams, but my knight did not come.
When I awoke, I had the feeling that my body was covered in purple and blue blotches, again. But my pale ivory skin showed no bruises other than the ones from various spy activities.
Slowly but surely, I came to a sitting position on my bedside and almost went back to sleep. A large yawn escaped me as I stretched my arms and legs. Every part of me seemed tense, but it might have been my mind playing tricks on me.
After grabbing the nearest clothing in sight, I was dressed in sweats and t-shirt that read 'Monte Carlo' in swirly letters. I didn't realize until after I had put it on, but I was wearing the shirt Dylan got for me. I was too lazy to change out of it before slowly making my way down the steps and into the kitchen to grab a quick bowl of cereal. But not even Cap'n Crunch could console my foul mood.
All I was doing was putting off the inevitable: the first ever fight with my other half. I've never fought with Christina before, we both loved each other too much. It's always the stereotype that all friends fight, but honestly? No, not me and Christina. But I guess our streak is about to be broken.
I'll admit it, I did some pretty bad things to wreck our friendship, too. I lied to her. A lot. I understand that she's going to be mad at me but I'm also pretty freakin' pissed at her.
I dropped the spoon in my cereal and it made a soft clink sound that jolted me. I was half asleep and extremely sensitive to sounds. The mushy mess in the bowl before me looked unappetizing and I left it lay.
“Let's go get this over with.” I said to myself, getting up from the chair and walking to our front door. Before I was outside I yelled back for anyone who cared “I'm going to Tina's!” and then shut the door behind me.
Christina's house is only about a five minute walk from mine, just down the paved service road a little bit and you'll almost go right through it. I'd never given much thought to why I never went to her house. The only answer I could come up with is that it didn't look like anyone lived in it. Last I can recall, the house is pristinely cleaned and the furniture looks like it's on display. Step into he living room and you'll feel like you're in a Good Housekeeping magazine. The walls are each painted in the most fashionable colors, most in browns and creams along with a bright yellow and soothing blues. Almost no pictures hung on the walls of their family and it looked move in ready for any couple wanting to start a new life. It was big just like mine, lots of electronics and things to do, but just not... homey.
The only room that I remember that even looked lived in what Christina's bedroom and bath and the kitchen after we'd gone through and eaten our fill. After peaking through the glass on her front door window, I could see that I was still right.
I started to tap my foot as I waited for her to answer to my doorbell ring. On any other day I would pop on in, but this isn't any other day. Just as my hand reached out to ring the doorbell again, Christina opened the door for me and gestured for me to come in. She didn't bother leading me up to her room on the second floor, we could fight wherever we wanted to. I stepped inside and took off my moccasin shoes, careful not to step on the flawless carpet, and did a quick once-over of their living room/foyer.
The walls were colored a dark, chocolate brown and had accents of sky blue such as the pillows on the couch or vases. A painting hung above the couch of a scene in late autumn, leaves gently falling off the branches of tree. There were small hints of rust colored accents, also, mixed in with the blue in frames and decorations. The carpet under me was plush and it gave way to my feet. It was the kind of place a person could stand around and have a nice conversation with someone, but only stand. The owners would not invite them to sit, they didn't know them well enough. Or, as in my case, they were not on good terms.
I stood there awkwardly and waited for her to say something first, I tugged at a stray string on my sweats and pulled it off. Neither one of us seemed to want to make the first accusation.
Christina was the first to say anything. “How many?” her meek voice whispered to me.
“How many what?”
“How many times did you lie to me?” she pushed.
My eyes darted to the floor. “Too many to count.”
“That's what I thought.” her voice was hard, unyielding and it made me look back up to her in shock.
“Oh yeah? How many times did you lie to me?”
Her eyes darted around the room, searching for an answer to make her seem less guilty. “Only like, twelve!” she finally uttered.
“Twelve?” I exasperated.
“Yes.” her arms folded themselves and her head rose a little higher in the air.
“Well, might as well make it thirteen because that is total bull shit!” I spat out.
Her face curled up in anger and her hands into fists. “You're total bull shit!”
“Nice comeback! I haven't heard that one since Pre-K!” Ouch, that stung.
“You're just jealous that I have a boyfriend!” she countered.
“Jealous! You're so called boyfriend is a total jerk!” I screamed back.
“No he is not! He is sweet, and kind, and generous, and way hotter than your boy toy!”
I know I should have been more offended to the accusation that I had a quote 'boy toy' but somehow the comment that Cameron was hotter than Dylan, yeah, that bothered me.
“I do not have a 'boy toy'!” I made the air quotes.
She rolled her eyes at me. “You are in such denial! Do you even realize what's going on in your life or do you just walk around with a bag over your head? Dylan and you follow each other around like a puppy chasing it's tail! Get a clue!”
“That is so not true!” I yelled back at her.
“D-e-n-i-a-l!” she sing songed and my anger fumed.
“Oh, grow up!” I sneered.
“I'm trying to!” she yelled, some of her energy leaving her. “But you won't let me.” she paused and I saw her eyes glisten over with tears. “I got a boyfriend, you asked me to stay away from him. I started to go on more spy missions, you don't even say good job. You disconnect your walkie on missions and it's no big deal, but when I do? You and Sammy both freak on me!” her hand reached to wipe the tear that was threatening to escape from her eyes. “Why?”
She had me stumped, which is why I said what every other girl says in this situation. “Because you're my best friend.”
She laughed at me like I had just said some kind of cruel joke. “You sure as hell don't act like it!”
“Yeah, we get it! You have a boyfriend! Congratulations, for sneaking him past me!”
“That's because you wouldn't understand!”
“Then try making me understand instead of going all undercover and lying to me about it. What else have you been lying about? Huh?” my arms were folded in a defensive position, she'd had her swing at me and now it was my turn.
“I...I don't ....know.” Christina stuttered.
“But you do! You know, you are so quick to take shots at me but when we talk about your problems suddenly you're Miss America! Get over yourself!”
“We never talk about me! It's all about you, you, you, and you!”
“That's so not true!” My voice rose a few notches and we were back to screaming at each other.
“You wouldn't know anything about telling the truth because all you do is lie! You lie to your family, friends and even yourself!” she screeched at me.
“Fuck off!” I yelled back.
“Get out of my house!” she said, hand raised to the door.
“Gladly!” I yelled back, turning around and grabbing my moccasins off the floor, not bothering to put them on before slamming the door shut behind me and stomping down her yard.
Once my feet made it to gravel I stopped walking to slip on my shoes before continuing my angry walk away. The summer weather had gotten hotter since my walk over and I was steaming in my sweats. I took off running down the service road as fast as I would allow myself.
My house appeared in minutes and I pushed myself faster and lost one of my shoes and had to go back to get it. I was so frustrated I started to curse under my breath while hopping up and down, trying to get the shoe on. I came into my house all hot and sweaty.
I dumped my shoes off near the front door and continued in stomping strides toward the stairway leading to my room. Sammy sat in the kitchen and I ignored her as she asked me “What's wrong?” and took the stairs up by twos. I hopped into the shower in my bathroom and washed myself clean with the cold water that felt good on my skin.
I stayed in the shower for nearly half an hour, because in the cold water no one could see the tears streaming down my face.
I spent my day that summer, laying all over my room and watching chick flicks. I love girly movies, especially the way they always have a happy ending. Sometime around 2:00, mom brought up some chicken strips and fries for me to eat. I picked at them all afternoon and there was still plenty of food left. I sat mostly on my bed, occasionally upside down, in a ball, sprawled out, or on my stomach. I moved around often but I always kept my phone glued to my side.
It never beeped, never buzzed, never lit up all day. I would just watch it sometimes and wait for something to happen; wait for Christina to call and apologize for everything. But she never did, and neither did I.
I realized that it was one of the few days in history since getting a phone, I never had any alerts, or texts, or calls. I also realized that day that I am perpetually alone without my best friend.
I fell asleep that night, dressed in my day clothes and laying on top of my bed, the white noise of the movie She's the Man fading in the background of my dark room, only lit by the light of the TV screen. I was having more nightmares, but these where not flashed or pictures, these made me scream.
I was laying on the beach back in Greece again, Piper tied up beside me. I watched the all to familiar scene of myself being beaten by the man. The real horror was that Christina was there, too. And all she did was stand by and watch with a devilish smile on her face as if the sounds of my screaming were pleasant to her. At the point in which my knight would come to save me, only a boat came.
It looked to be a speedboat, black and sleek with unreadable words printed on the side where it's name should be. I screamed as the man plucked me from the ground roughly and hauled me onto the boat. My body in my dream looked lifeless as he carried it. Another man, older this time, appeared from inside the speed boat to grab Piper and take her aboard. As I watched myself being taken away, I looked to Christina who was standing by doing nothing.
“Aren't you going to help me!” I screamed to her.
Slowly, in a motion much like an owl, her head turned to me and a voice like fire whispered back. “No.”
Through my dream I could feel my real body screaming as I watched my dream body being taken away from me as the boat's engine started. Finally, the noise of clanking armor sounded on the beach and Dylan came running towards my body, trying to save me.
But he was too late.
The boat roared to life and started to swiftly move through the black water to the horizon and disappear. Dylan dived into the ocean after it. As I waited there in the sand for something to happen, nothing did. His heavy body in the metal did not resurface and I screamed louder.
“This isn't supposed to happen! This is wrong! This was not supposed to happen! No!” I had awoke from my nightmare while I screamed this. My face was smeared with hot tears and the rest of my body was cold. I still laid on top of my bed, and the covers were ruffled from my twisting and turning around. But there was something very different from when I was last awake. The room was dark, someone had turned off the TV, the most minor thing different.
At that moment, all I wanted was for have someone hold me, tell me everything is going to be all right. And he was there.
Strong arms held me and my head laid on the hard chest of whomever held me. My tears were soaking their shirt, but yet they didn't ask me to dry them off on a tissue. I was broken, curled into a ball in his arms while I sobbed. On my window I could hear the pounding of the outside rain and a flash of lightening lit my room, but I didn't open my closed eyes. The arms of the boy holding me moved soothingly across my arms, trying to calm me down.
Through the taste of my salty tears I could smell him, Dylan. And yet I still clung to him like a magnet. It was on that night, I surrendered the white flag and gave in. His soft, rocking coos of his voice eventually dozed me into slumber. I fell asleep wrapped in his arms.
(A.N. I was going to stop there, but decided to keep going! You're welcome!)
Early morning light flooded through my window the next morning. Outside the grass was damp and the sidewalks dark from the night's pounding rains. I was laying on my bed in last night's clothes on top of the comforter. Someone had laid a thick blanket over me that kept me warm. My eyes searched for my alarm clock; it was 9:27. The pillow my head rested on was slightly damp from my tears and I hoped I hadn't stained it any further.
I stretched myself under the blanket. My whole body was stiff from being curled into a ball for so long. My hair looked like it had been attacked by a ravenous beast and my clothes felt awkward from being slept in. Slowly my eyes adjusted to the morning light and I looked about my room to see it as I had left it the night before, scattered and soaked tissues and the plate that held a few leftover fries still sat on my desk.
A little white piece of paper caught my eye sitting on my nightstand. I picked it up cautiously and unfolded the note. I sighed to myself as I saw the same, familiar script.
Dear Emily,
I know you may not have wanted me here, but I was coming to apologize for
everything that I said. I was a jerk. Please forgive me, in person, tonight. I'll see you
at 9ish.
-Bye
Dylan
I smiled to myself as I studied the note and read it again, and again, and again until the words were engraved in my head. Each time my eyes flitted back to his signature and my mind wandered to how sweet he had been to me last night, how he randomly told me I was beautiful and always made a point and looking into my eyes like he was trying to see into my soul. I guess, Christina was right about one thing.
I slid off my bed and went downstairs to try and waste some hours until it would 9:00, the time couldn't come any sooner.
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Great Song over here! Kind of perfectly describes the relationship between Dylan and Emily! Take a listen!
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<3 thatcrazybookworm