August, 26.
07:43 AM
Gwendoline Bane.
There are nightmares.
Then there are dreams that scare the shit out of you.
Not because you remember every single thing you saw in it, when you wake up. Or that they feel closer to life, than reality ever did.
But only because they make you wish you'd never wake up again.
I've been so used to preparing myself for the nightmares, which usually creep along with me into my slumber, that I never see the dreams coming.
I lie to myself every night about staying awake to prevent the nightmares. But I fear my dreams even more so.
The dreams.
They were more memories rather than dreams. A morphed version of the reality that once was. I've never been able to tell them apart. The ones that had happened for real, and what my imagination had conjured up to fill the bleak holes left behind in the place of missing images.
A large part of my life was that way. The whole of my childhood was. When Vangard found me, I only remembered my name. 'My real name', which was what I kept saying. As if to remind myself that I was real and there, when nothing else in my life was. The rest of my past was an intricate painting that was watered down. Blurry edges and disturbing splatters of paint that, frightened me so much, I refused to inspect it closer.
Most hunters would have jumped at the oppurtunity of the amnesiac child with unexplainable supernaturality, and turned me into a slave of their bidding. Or they would have killed me. But Van didn't. He found use for me, with less mention of servitude and more in a consented manner.
In fact he had ventured enough to escort me to an insider Magik, a few months after he'd taken me in, in an attempt to restore my memories.
The result was a concussion and a headache that split my head front through sideways for an entire week.
But it wasn't the only one.
Apparently, while the Magik was digging about for memories, he rattled something else that was lying hidden in my subconscious.
Caster spells.
It wasn't unrelated to the Magi but it was similar to magic of a less lethal kind. Someone had taught me caster spells as a child, and then put them away. But not well enough, and obviously this person meant for it to be unveiled some day. Because the memories were a different story. Entirely inaccessible. Like they weren't even there.
As if in compensation, along with the spells, there were a few shredded pieces of flashbacks. Like bits of paper, frayed and intentionally scattered about, for me to find. None of them fit together.
The things I remembered were my name. The ones that I was unlucky enough to recall afterwards were that I had had parents. But I was also the reason they were dead.
The Magik couldn't help further and Vangard could care less, now that he had a mediocre caster with supernatural abilities at his beck and call.
So my mind turned to a method of its own to help me cope by and live a half life.
The dreams.
And today I dreamt.
*Of bees and meadows. Of sunlight that glistened off of morning dew that clung to the looming sunflower stalks. Of the air that smelled like happiness, summer and what could have been home.
I dream of my mother.
I've never dreamt of my father for some reason. He only ever appears in my nightmares. For some reason.
She's smiling at me, like she does everytime in my dreams.
She's always happy in my dreams and I like her that way. It helped me pretend that it could have always been that way.
Until she died. Until I killed her.
She walks towards me, her arms inviting me in for a hug. And just like that, I'm a child again. Braids slapping against my back, skirt billowing in the breeze, as I run to her and jump into her embrace.
It's these dreams that I fear. The happy and perfect ones. The ones that leave me sobbing over a fantasy, that could have been true, when I awaken from it.
But that's as long as it lasts.
The scene changes and my mother is feeding me something. Or someone who resembles her in looks alone.
I'm seated inside an outline chalked into the ground, cross-legged and as apprehensive as a child could be. It's an odd figure consisting of several lines criss-crossing each other and I'm sat at the very centre of it.
I keep refusing the pungent smelling paste that she is insisting me to swallow. She doesn't listen and continues to spoon me mouthfuls of it. Until I retch. And then I cry. Or rather shriek.
The pain arrives. Full of purpose. Coursing from the inside out. Pulling me apart. But only the ghost of it. Or rather I am the ghost. Watching from the shadows as the child, that is me, spasms in agony. The lady, who is my mother, wields a masked expression as she regards my suffering.
What happens next has never followed in this particular nightmare before. That was another one of the curses I was bestowed with. I remembered every single nightmare.
My younger counterpart is still screaming, and the lady's face is yet impassive. Then there's a blue light. An electric shade of it, which startles both the lady and my astral self. It bathes my corporal self in it. Or its coming from my 7 year old frame. It's difficult to comprehend, but I've never seen this happen.
I hear the voice of a man yelling my name, and then my mother's name, which I don't remember but can recognise. I don't see the man, but I know he is my father.
The blue light fades but the scene has changed.
I'm still there. In the body of the 19 year old me. My present self. But I'm now seated in the place where my mother had been. And I have the same stoic expression on.
The rune, as I can now recognise, is a pentagram. And it isn't empty. My earlier position in it, is now occupied by Woo Bin.
He's the one in throes.
And I'm watching.
He's the one suffering.
And I'm the one who put him there.
His eyes then open abruptly, mid scream, and capture mine. My expression never changes. But fear bubbles within. I can feel it. But I have no control over my body. I'm frozen in place under his glare. The malice in his eyes, the way his lips turn up into a sneer.
I watch it happen in slow motion, as his joints twist abnormally, and he launches himself at me. Snarling and fingers curled into claws.
I wake up.
The first thing I notice is that I'm not sprawled in the couch. I've been tucked under the covers in my own bed. The next thing, is the sunlight blasting through the windows. Weren't the blinds drawn when I entered the house this morning? It seemed like it was morning, judging from how bright the day was.
On instinct, I cast the blanket off me and grab the dagger, that I had kept taped on the underside of the headboard. The spells were supposed to hold any kinds of intruders. Human or not.
"Ish aivoder."
Apart from a frequency ripple that goes through me, at the spell, there seemed to be no disturbance. The barrier spell was still in place.
My apartment consisted of a single large room, sectioned into different parts for different purposes. The only extra 'room' was the bathroom. So even if there was an intruder, he'd have to hide in plain sight. I allowed myself to relax and watched the sunrise for a second time.
My phone was still on the couch. I grabbed it and that's when I saw the date.
It was Sunday, the 26th. I'd slept through an entire day.
There weren't as many messages as I'd expected there to be. Mostly they were from Min Ri. First ones were of her demanding an explanation for me standing up my date. Further on, they turned into worried texts asking me to call or text her back. And finally they'd evolved to ones threatening me to contact her unless I wanted her to "burn the town down" looking for me.
The rest were a couple from Yu Na. And a single call from Kyro. Nothing from Van.
He was either giving me my space or he must hate me enough to not care about what happened at all.
Everything was such a mess, now that I was awake again.
I rubbed at my face, and they came away wet. My face felt dried and tight when I pulled it into a scowl. I had cried in my sleep again.
The dream. The nightmare. It was coming back to me in slideshows. One after the other. Torturously slow.
A shower was what I needed.
There was something calming about having a shower when your world was blowing up around you. Just like sleeping. Showers worked better for me, since they had nothing to do with me dreaming.
I analysed the nightmare piece by piece. Scene after scene. Allowing the tepid water to wash off any pain that surfaced, meanwhile.
The blue light was new. The nightmare always ended before that. The screams used to wake me up. There used to be a blank space between my tortured cries and my mother lying lifeless on the floor. The scenes always jumped.
It was changed in several ways now. Why was Woo Bin making an appearance? And the way he had appeared, animalistic and murderous. That was not him.
Although I woke up the minute he attacked, I'm pretty sure it wouldn't have ended well for me in the dream.
It must be the guilt. It was the only plausible explanation. I had to take full responsibility for his death. It was on me. The guilt was just manifesting itself.
I dropped my head, allowing the water to hit my head, in full force. The drain was being encircled by brownish water. Swirling and swirling, until it disappeared through the holes. I held my hands in front of me.
The blood was still caked under my fingernails, and on a few spots where it was too thick and dried up. I rubbed my hands together, slowly yet firmly.
The drain welcomed more pale maroon water, but less than before.
There was no more blood. Just like that, another murder cleansed and concealed.
The steam from the bath had misted the mirror, fitted above the sink. As I stood there to dry my hair, my reflection resembled that of a pale ghost with dark hair and unnaturally bright eyes.
I didn't wipe the mirror. I gazed into my blurry image, separating strand after strand to dry. My hair going from muddy brown to its original redwood maroon, making my complexion appear more pasty.
You get that nasty temper from that untameable mane of yours, Van always said.
Nasty temper, indeed. The rage that was burning within me could take down the entire city if I let it consume me. And whosoever comes to stand in my way, along with it.
I set the hairdryer down, with the power still on, and watched the mirror clear up. It started from the edges, the shower screen becoming visible behind me.
It was when the whole of it was no longer clouded, that I noticed it. A blue glow. It starts at the edges, just the way the mist had cleared. The oval outline of the mirror was glowing blue.
The part of my silhouette on the mirror was visible now. The blue glow reached just around my reflection. I could feel my heart, wildly racing in my chest, as I trailed my eyes over my mirror image.
When I reached my face, I catch myself against the sink, knocking the dryer off in the process, before I slipped on the wet floor. The blue glow shone in my eyes as well. They were no longer the dull green, but an electric blue.
My breaths came out it pants, as I blinked and blinked and blinked. But nothing changed. The blue seemed to have gotten brighter, as if mocking me.
So bright, until the colour seemed almost recognizable. Like an old acquaintance.
The nightmare.
No, an enemy.
I made a grab for the nearest weapon, the hair dryer. I pulled my hand back to throw it at the mirror when I noticed that the blue glow was gone.
In my eyes as well as the mirror. No trace of it left except for my jittery nerves. I controlled my breathing, leaning against the wall, the mirror was mounted upon. I don't take another look at my reflection.
I get dressed in a hurry and go to the living room to look for my keys.
I needed answers. But first, I needed to get out of my house.
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A/N : So! What do you think of this chapter? Has it given you an insight on Gwen's past?? The picture in the media is how I imagine Gwens apartment to be. Read and enjoy! Do comment and vote, if you like it!