Emily's head was still spinning from all the information she tried to process.
"Am I dead, too?" she asked as Raphael led her through the darkness. He seemed to know where he was going, which put her at ease.
"No," he replied without looking at her. "You shouldn't even be here." He quickened his pace as they reached a shallow creek. Its water was as murky and black as the rest of the landscape.
"Where exactly is 'here'?" Emily tried her best to keep up with him.
Without warning, he stopped and turned around, making her almost bump into him. "This is the place you chose yourself, Emily," he explained bitterly. "It looks different for everyone. Some choose sunny meadows, others prefer busy streets, or their childhood homes. For some reason, you chose this..." Frowning, he looked around as if examining the barren land for the first time. "...this hell."
"Hell?" She gasped at the sound of this word. "Is that what this is? Are we in Hell?"
"You tell me," he mumbled bleakly, continuing on the invisible path they were both following.
"But I thought you said I'm not dead. So how can this be Hell then?" She rushed to catch up with him once more.
"That is the point. Even though you are alive, you entered the place of no return, Emily, and it is my fault. I don't know if there is a way to undo this, but if there is, I promise I will find it and bring you back."
A big lump began to form in her throat, and she swallowed hard. "And what if it doesn't work? What if I can't go back?"
"Then," he said, looking over his shoulder back to her. "Welcome to your endless night."
A frosty sensation devoid of all hope grasped her heart. She had always wondered what death would be like, what it would feel like to be held in its eternal grip. Somehow, there had always been the idea in the back of her mind that she would be reunited with her mother when her time on earth was up, but this hope now seemed so infantile and as far from the grim reality as it possibly could.
"I don't want to stay here," she confessed. "I don't like it here at all."
"Why did you choose it, then?" Raphael came to a halt in front of several large pine trees.
"I didn't choose it," she squeaked desperately.
Raphael only regarded her with a blank expression. "You certainly did, or we wouldn't be here, but that's unimportant right now. We have to find a way out of here. Emily, please, try to remember your dreams. Did you ever see a path or a forest, or anything other than this field?"
She furrowed her brows. "I thought you knew the way out."
"How did you get that idea?" Cocking his head, he crossed his arms over his chest. "This isn't my purgatory, it's yours. You're the only one who could possibly find the way. So, please, concentrate."
"I'm sorry," she mumbled ruefully, lowering her head. "I don't remember."
Raphael let out an exasperated sigh and plopped down onto the ground. "Well, until you do, we will have to stay here."
This wasn't fair. How was she supposed to recall such small details of something she had always dismissed as fantasy? Granted, the dreams were always similar, and always very vivid, but they still were a part of her imagination. At least, that's what she had believed until now.
Her legs felt so frail all of a sudden. Carefully, she sat down beside Raphael in the withered grass. Several minutes of excruciating silence passed before she decided to address him again. There were just too many questions on her mind.
"Raphael, how were you my professor? How was that possible? Or did I dream that, too?"
He chuckled quietly, his hand plucking a blade of brown grass and rolling it between his fingers. "No, that was not a dream. Not really."
Confused, Emily narrowed her eyes. "What do you mean by that?"
"It's difficult to explain, but I'll try." He wrapped his arms around his knees, pulling them up to his chest. "See, when someone dies, they leave their body behind, and the soul goes on to another realm of existence. In some rare cases, though, the dead don't leave, either because they can't or because they refuse to, especially when there is something or someone that still ties them to the world of the living. It takes an incredibly strong bond, though, to make this happen. And when it does, the borders of your reality and ours become blurred and it is easy then to cross them. To you and everyone else on earth, those souls appear as if they were a breathing human being, just a normal everyday person, when in fact they are disembodied entities that exist simultaneously in two different dimensions; projections that originated in a different time, which are depicted in your present and subjected to its laws."
Shaking her head, she gaped at him. "But, Raphael, if you don't have a body, if you are not really here, how do I still feel it when you touch me? How can I touch you? There has to be some form of physical body or it wouldn't be possible."
He just shrugged his shoulders. "Your mind tricks you into thinking that, Emily. Your eyes perceive me because our realms of existence overlap, and when I reach out to touch your cheek..." He slowly lifted his hand, bringing it closer to her face. "...you expect to feel something, so your brain prepares for this sensation, and you think you feel it, when in your reality, there is no touch." Gently, his fingers caressed her cheek, and Emily felt a slight tingle, as if a silky feather was brushing over her skin.
A comfortable shiver covered her arms with goosebumps, and she inevitably closed her eyes to savor the sensual emotions his small sign of affection stirred up deep within her.
"I do feel that," she muttered breathlessly.
When he slowly withdrew his hand, her eyes flicked open in silent complaint, but she was immediately compensated with the most charming smile she had ever seen.
"I did, too."
Although she was aware that she was blushing furiously and would have preferred to hide it from him, she was unable to break the spell his mysteriously glittering eyes seemed to have cast on her.
"And," she swallowed hard. "And did you feel the kiss, too?"
His smile slowly died at her words, and a dark gleam clouded his irises.
"It was most amazing." His voice was a mere whisper and yet, it was so seductive Emily reflexively leaned closer to his body. Her lips parted slightly to accommodate for the lack of oxygen her wildly racing heart caused.
"You're tempting me," he purred softly, his fingers cupping her chin.
A small whimper escaped her throat as his mouth tenderly covered hers.
The second their lips touched, a painfully freezing chill rushed through her body, and she tried to pull away immediately, but his arms lay around her in a tight embrace, not letting her go.
So cold...
As much as she wanted to let him know what was happening, she was unable to muster the strength to speak or push him away. She was losing control over her aching body, and even worse, over her mind, which was beginning to display strange images.
A small boy was standing at the top of a staircase, desperately clutching a fluffy teddy bear. He was crying for his mommy, over and over again. "Shut up!" someone yelled with so much hatred that the child sobbed even more. "Shut up, or you'll be next!"
A blindingly bright blue flash of light blended out the boy's figure, and a different image appeared.
Students were sitting at their desks, attentively following every word a very familiar velvety voice recited.
"If we shadows have offended,
Think but this, and all is mended,
That you have but slumbered here
While these visions did appear."
Another unexpected blue flash made Emily cringe, and she recognized the place of the new vision immediately; it was Raphael's apartment.
A young woman with long blonde hair was kneeling on the floor. Her hands were tied in front of her body with a thick rope. Mortal fear distorted her face as she begged for her life.
"Please, let me go. I'll do anything you ask of me, but please don't hurt me! Raphael, please!"
Then, all she could see was blackness; the images were gone, but Raphael's voice kept echoing in her mind. It was so overwhelming, the tone was so powerful, so dizzying and otherworldly, that there was no room anymore for her own thoughts, for her own soul. He took absolute control over her head. Gradually, she felt her consciousness slip away.
"Are you sure
That we are awake? It seems to me
That yet we sleep, we dream."
Emily's body became numb, falling limp in Raphael's arms. Mistaking it for a reflection of his own longing, he deepened the kiss, feverishly claiming her mouth.
Air! I need air! I can't breathe!
His passionate lips sucked every energy out of her, his mouth mercilessly devoured the life-saving oxygen her lungs so painfully demanded. Her chest was burning so terribly, and the muscle right in its center contracted in a frenzied and desperate rhythm, struggling to maintain the blood flow. If she wouldn't be able to take a deep, salvaging breath very soon, her heart would just stop its frantic fight.
He was killing her.
It was with this realization that her survival instinct kicked in, giving her the strength she needed to push away the man who was about to take her life.
"Emily?" Confused, he steadied his upper body by firmly placing both his hands on the ground, as he watched Emily's several unsuccessful attempts to stand.
When her legs finally obeyed, she shakily moved backwards, away from him.
"You..." She breathed heavily, struggling to regain full consciousness. A part of her mind was still in a twilight state, unable to completely return to reality. "You are going to kill me, aren't you?"
"What are you talking about?" He got up, too, following her steps.
"You killed her, too, didn't you?" Now somewhat more stable, she began to back away faster.
"Who, Emily?" he frowned, shaking his head.
"The blonde woman. In your apartment."
He froze. "What? How do you know about her?"
Not answering his question, she repeated insistently, "Is she dead, Raphael?"
He chewed on the inside of his cheek, apparently deep in thought.
"Raphael!" Emily yelled hysterically. "Is she dead?"
Through her still hazy vision, she saw him nod.
That was all she needed to know. She spun around and ran as fast as her weakened legs allowed, putting as much distance between them as possible.
After several yards she looked back over her shoulder and was relieved that she couldn't make out his silhouette any longer. She seemed to have gotten away. Sighing, she slowed down a little and turned her head back to the landscape in front of her.
One small step, and she bumped into something that blocked her way.
"Where to, beautiful?"
The quotes in this chapter are taken from Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream.
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