I kind of told three people about that cat already but they didn’t believe me anyway, so that shouldn’t matter, right? Well, it’s not like I can do anything about it now.

I’m fed up.

“Shit.” I walk around in the shallows, splashing the freakishly still sea. “Damn it!”

“That’s quite the mouth you have.”

I spin around at the sound of another voice. This one is light and sounds very snobbish and aristocratic. And British. Like David’s. A lot like David’s. It belongs to a man in a grey suit, white starchy shirt, and red tie. His suit and black shiny shoes seem familiar to me somehow, but I can’t think of why.

His skin is pale, and his mostly brown hair, with a few silvery locks, is combed back, slick, with not a strand out of place. There’s something wrong with his face, though. It’s blurry, like when they blur people’s faces in photos or videos to protect identities. The rest of him is perfectly clear, so I know exactly who he his. And I hate him already.

“Mr. Spencer.” I should have known he would be involved in all of this somehow. I’m also suddenly aware that my attire still hasn’t changed from when I was in the ambulance, meaning I’m flashing him my bra right now. I cross my arms to close my shirt somewhat.

The fucking creep coulda’ warned me.

He chuckles. His laugh is joyless. “That’s Lord Spencer to you, now.”

I’m going to ignore that.

“What’s wrong with your face?” Is it something to do with this dreamworld?

“Ah. It appears my glamour is ceasing to function for you. Well, that is to be expected.”

“Literally none of this has been expected.” My voice is flat. I’m too tired to play games.

“I’m aware there have been some unfortunate complications to your day. That’s partly why I’m here. On behalf of the National Assembly, the Council of Elders, and the House of Lords, I would like to apologize to you for-”

Oh, fuck off with that bureaucratic bullshit. Just how stupid do these fuckers think I am? Unfortunate complications? You monsters fucking killed me, dude.

“Stuff it. I don’t care.” I cut him off and storm out of the water, which is hard to do with crossed arms and probably doesn’t have the effect I was going for. “Why are you in my dream, Mr. Treasurer?”

“That’s not your concern right now, Miss Lowe. As I was saying, the local community of Ashvale, as well as the greater Mutant Society, wishes to express our sincerest apologies in regards to how your case has unfolded thus far, and would like to-”

Hm… while he’s babbling unimportant nonsense, I notice that the haze covering his face is beginning to lift or subside or something. I can make out some blurry features now.

I cut him off again. “You’re in my private personal dream, so actually I think it is my concern. It’s very concerning. And not what I’d expect from someone claiming to apologize for their massive fuck up.”

“This is just what I do. You could even call this my true profession.”

He spreads his arms wide before returning them to his pockets. I can see his dark grey eyes clearly now. They’re as steady and lifeless as ever. But there’s something wrong with his face. He was always pale but now he looks downright pasty, and there are dark purple circles under his eyes and his eyelids are dark grey. And there’s more. At first, I think they’re eye wrinkles, early crow’s feet, but they’re actually fine black lines, almost like veins, spreading out subtly from his eyes.

“So what, when you get bored of invading people’s piggy banks you invade people’s dreams?” I want to keep him talking. I want to see his whole face. At least I think I do.

He smiles, I can tell, but the rest of his face is still fuzzy. I can see there’s no feeling to it because his eyes are as cold as ever. “Yes, see, now you’re starting to get it.”

“I’m really not.”

Now he sighs and looks away from me. Damn it, I can’t see now.

“You’re going to be a difficult one, aren’t you?”

Me? I’m the difficult one? Oh, please. I’m so done. “Can you please go now? I’m done with all this stupid shit. Crazy as it sounds, I think I’d like to sleep.” I am quite tired. I guess dying does that to a person.

“Then you’re going to give up?”

I can see his mouth now. My little outburst made him turn back to me. His lips are mostly pale like his skin with faint red patches at the fleshiest parts. And more black veins are leading out from the corners of his mouth. And he has the same four sets of three fangs, each set having one long, thin center fang with two shorter barely sharp fangs. How does he even talk with a mouth that busy? David has the same teeth. Same accent. Are these guys related, maybe?

I can see him clearly now. He looks like how I’d imagine a vampire would, a real one, not some Twilight thing.

“I’m not giving up anything, I’m just tired.” And trying to keep my cool, here. Could he be a vampire? Like David? Assuming that’s what David even was… “And give up what?”

“Your life.” He sits down on the log.

“That’s Fintan’s spot.”

He cocks an eyebrow at me. “Fintan?”

“My new spirit, smart one. Otherwise, how’d I even be here after getting murdered?” It’s amazing how normal it sounds to say that casually.

“Interesting…so it has already revealed itself.” The man looks around but doesn’t move, and neither do I. No way I’m taking my eyes off him. Not for a second.

Seeing nothing unusual he turns his attention back to me. His gaze is a little more intense now. “So you have already Bonded?”

“You are all seriously overestimating how much Crazy Lingo I know.”

“I’ll take that as a maybe. That’s good then. Still time…”

“Still time for what?”

He literally waves away my question. He flips his hand at me like nothing I say is important at all. I bite my tongue to not say anything rash. I have a feeling this man could kill me if he wanted to. I don’t know how long my limited supply of patience and fucks to give will last me, though.

“You’ll have to decide soon. David and Ezekiel’s energy will only keep you here for so long.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” How does he know about all that? And who the fuck is Ezekiel? The Ginger Freak? Agh, who cares about those murderers.

“I’m sure a part of you is already aware that the lads you met earlier today weren’t exactly Normal humans.”

“No shit, sherlock. They both had fangs and other had claws for fingernails.” The man frowns at my swearing. “You’d be cussing too if you had a day like mine.”

“Fair enough.” He looks amused briefly, then the lame-o dark expression comes back. But I get the feeling even that brief show of emotion was an act. Almost like he’s pretending to be alive. In every photo or interview I’ve seen of him he always looks so solemn. Truly lifeless.

“And just to be clear, I’ve made it pretty clear to you freaks that I already know what you all are. What this place is. Everything. The only surprise here, for me, is that apparently, I’m one of you. And apparently, it’s totally normal for you people to slaughter innocents is broad daylight for no fucking reason. Real great culture you monsters have. Super safe and regulated.”

“Are you finished?”

“Are you finished? You arrogant old prick-”

My body freezes. Just like what happened with Stupid Boy. But this feels more… intricate? I can sense the difference in training, basically. David’s… what did he call it? Linking? Yeah, I think that word was used. His Link was shoddy, lacked finesse. This… this is different. This is more… complete.

This is more dangerous.

Although it’s difficult, I still manage to spit out my words.

“Let. Me. Go. I’ll kill you, you damned freak!”

Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

I was never a prejudiced person. I’m still not. I’m aware not all Mutants are evil freaks. But this one? Fuck this one. Fuck most of the ones in town.

“Tsk. So violent. And you wonder why you had to be monitored.”

“So, you admit it? You admit you like to spy on underage girls?” I manage to move my mouth enough to hob a glob of spit near his feet. Right near his shoes. Because now I know where I’ve seen those shoes before, where I’ve seen that suit before.

“You and René like to spy on chicks for fun, huh? He’d tell you all about me in the back of his stupid Bentley. You ever pay him to get some hot picks of me, huh?”

He glares at the wet mark in the sand, then glares back up at me. A chill runs down my spine, but I don’t back down. Nah, these fuckers need to be backing down to me. I’m the victim, that’s how that works.

“Fuck. You. Ya damn murderous freaks. You think you can just watch me, trap me, kill me, invade my personal space, and then lecture me? You can shove your fake ass apologies up your-”

He takes further control of me and blocks my ability to speak. Smart guy. I had a lot more prepared.

He closes his eyes for a moment then opens them again. “I understand your frustration. I truly do. What you’ve experienced is unfair. It’s true. But your frustrations and your attitude will not help you survive going forward. So that’s what you need to decide, right now. Do you want revenge, or do you want to live? Do you want to be right, or you want to survive? Because you can’t have both. Not as you are now.” He sighs softly and dare I say that was an eye roll? “You have no idea what you’re in for.”

Listening to what he’s saying is annoying, but as he’s one of them he knows a lot more than I do. Is he trying to give me advice? He invaded my dream, but he wants to help me? Or is this just another trick in order to turn me into a complacent slave?

I know I have a bad temper. And I know his suggestion to reign it in, at least for now, is fairly reasonable. But I’m just so angry. Like I want to destroy… something. That’s… I know that’s no good. On the other hand, everything I said is fair and not wrong at all. Just mean. Not untrue. Fuck.

“It seems you’ve calmed down.”

I regain control of my own body. How generous.

“If you do that to me again, the next glob of spit will be in your face.”

I back away from him to other side of the log where I find a particularly sharp stick exactly where I hoped one would be. I love dreams. I feel much safer with this in my hands.

“You gonna tell me what you’re actually doing here or are you just gonna keep pretending you’re out for sightseeing in a local teenage girl’s dreams?”

“No need to get nasty.”

“If not then kindly get the fuck out. You’re trespassing.”

I turn around and start walking. Hopefully I can get out of this guy’s body manipulation range. Then maybe I can find a way out of my dream and back to the real world.

“He’s my son.”

“Who is? Dracula?”

“The one you like to call Stupid Boy.”

Uh… shit. Did I ever say that out loud? Whoops. No wait, did I?

Wait, more importantly, I was right? This is David’s dad?

“It’s true that I’m here to apologize. But not only on behalf of my boss. I’m also here to apologize personally. I failed in that boy’s training. I also failed in keeping your confidential information… confidential. He overheard a conversation, became interested in your situation, and thus caused your situation to deteriorate.”

Well, that’s new. I didn’t think those people knew how to apologize, not for real. But this one sounds real. It makes me turn around.

“The one who made you follow him outside is my son, David. He wasn’t even supposed to be down there today. If he had been where he was supposed to be, then the other boy wouldn’t have gone down there either. I’m sorry that he caused you to die.”

Oh…well damn. That explains some stuff.

He looks at me and I don’t see many similarities between David and Mr. Spencer, other than both being British, so I’ll have to take his word for it. I can tell he really is sorry. Again, nothing revealed in his expression, it’s just a feeling I get. Aside from some brief moments, his face is as expressionless, and Fintan’s is genderless. Not that I care much about an apology, I mean what good are those at this point? But the sentiment is nice, I guess.

“I hate him. Both of them.”

“I know. I want you to know they won’t get off easily for this. Not at all. They’ve broken a lot of rules.”

Good. “What’s going to happen to me?”

“If you live and join our little ‘freak club’ as you call it… then your life is going to change entirely. Of course, you’ll need to be…accepted, first.”

How does he know I called it a freak club?

“Don’t feel bad, it’s a fair description.”

“Get out of my head!”

I point my sharp stick at him like it could do something and he narrows his eyes.

Wait. I about missed something. This guy is able to enter my dreams and my mind. Could this be one of the bastards that warped mine and mom’s memories?

“You! Did you do it?”

“You’ll need to be more specific. I know you think I’m reading your mind, but I assure it you it’s a little more complicated than-”

“Are you the one that fucked with our memories? If I find out you touched a single hair on my mom’s head, I swear I’ll tear you apart!”

His eyes dilate. “…Ah, is that why everything is so mangled and hard to-”

“Get out of my head, get out of our heads, how dare you-”

“Wasn’t me.” He raises his hand in mock surrender. “But that is very interesting information. It seems that things are far more serious than we thought. We’ve also been surveilling the wrong person.”

“Excuse me? What do you-”

“Sorry, I’m afraid this is all I can tell you for now. It’s time for me to leave and for you to wake up if you so choose. But I have a feeling we’ll be meeting again soon.”

“Who wants to meet you again? Fuck off.”

Oh wait a second, how do I wake up? Does this guy know?

“Uh wait, hold on!” Can you fuck off later?

He doesn’t wait. He stands up stiffly and walks away and I go stop him, but somehow each step he takes is worth ten of mine and soon he’s just faded away in the distance. Just like everything else has so far. “Well, shit. Now what do I do?”

But I know what to do. Somehow. Like he said, it’s time for me to wake up.

And just like that my little beach paradise is gone.

~*~

Apparently, my little beach excursion didn’t take as long as it felt because when I come to, I’m still in the ambulance, but I won’t be for much longer.

“She’s back again.” This time there’s no clapping, no excitement. They all look and sound tired. The lady who brough me back with the paddles…Livna, was it? Is sweating and her hair bun is a mess, and the guy monitoring the screen has removed his glasses to rub his eyes. But they’re smiling for me. Their smiles just make me more scared. My god, how bad is it, really?

My fear, feeding off theirs, is nothing compared to the terror I feel when they announce that we’ve arrived Uptown. The Uptown hospital, called Remembrance. Oh no. No please.

I realize too late what’s about to happen.

There is a suction cup on my mouth pushing air into me through a tube connecting to god knows what. They’re rushing me down a hallway I know well. I know this place; I’ve been here so many times. But always on the other end of these whitewashed walls, looking down and jumping out of the way as some poor sap gets run to my mother’s ward. Except now that poor sap is me. My mother owns these halls, she’s the Don of the ER. No patient comes in without her knowing about it.

Shit.

Everyone around me is shouting and I think I have a heart attack when I realize my mom is going to see me. Livna jumps onto the new gurney they have me on and starts pushing her palms down onto my heart. And suddenly the cup on my face isn’t giving me nearly enough air and people are shouting “she’s crashing!” Which doesn’t really help.

And that’s when time becomes molasses.

I see my mom before she sees me. She has a clipboard in her hands and for a second, she looks like she always does, calm and sadly sweet. My mom is the kindest and scariest person I know. She’s the Director of Nursing for the ER, but people call her ‘the Don,’ which should really explain everything right there. And right now, she’s explaining something to fellow nurse Martha, who is a childhood friend. She’ll certainly need her strength now…

Please don’t turn around. Please don’t-

Fuck.

When she turns around, I see her like I never have. I have never seen a face change on a dime like this before. It’s like a shadow falls over her. Her eyes get wide, and her ever-present clipboard slips out of her hands and falls to the floor.

I don’t hear the impact, everything else is too loud. I guess Martha hears it because she looks down at it then looks at me. My mom is frozen, but Martha’s hand goes to her mouth. My mom calls my name, like she isn’t sure it’s me. Like she doesn’t want it to be. It can’t be, can it? This dying girl can’t be her Kara, could she? It can’t be her.

I know her, I know what she’s thinking, and I want to die again. I want to go back to the beach. She’s terrified, I have never seen my mom be scared about anything. Not even when I fell into the cougar pit at the zoo. She just looked annoyed and jumped in after me and pulled me back to safety. Like it was nothing. I’d forgotten how calm she had been then. Like she knew I’d be fine.

But this isn’t the zoo. This is a totally different situation and as recognition dawns on her face she starts screaming.

“Kara! No! Kara!”

I never knew it could hurt so much to hear someone call your name. When Jordan says it, it sounds so nice.

My mom lunges towards us but tiny Martha grabs her waist, struggling against a mother’s grief. My heart is breaking, and I will them to hurry up and push me past this scene until all I see are the whitewashed walls again.

I don’t want to see this.

It all happens in less than a minute, and then we’ve past them and I’m taken into a room, my mom’s screams still pounding in my ears. My name will never sound the same to me again. It will forever have an echo of this moment.

We’re in an open room I’ve seen before. There is a high ledge with big glass windows where people, usually students from the university, can watch surgical procedures. Our city has a good nursing program that’s run through this hospital. We get lots of students every year from nearby cities, even other counties.

My mom brought me into a room just like this once to see what she did for a living after I told her being a nurse wasn’t a ‘real job.’ In my defence, I was eleven. And everyone’s a little bitchy when they’re eleven. At the first sign of blood, I threw up on her new shoes. She never brought me back there.

But now I’m here anyway. In a room much the same. I want to throw up again too.

Everyone around me is wearing masks, but I know these people, they work with my mom. There’s Rob with his bushy brows and bald spot. Old Lucy is behind him, flicking a needle. One of them grabs my good hand, the one not trapped in a splint, and shoves the needle into a vein and tapes it down. It’s Alice. Her nose is too small for her face but she’s blonde, so men tend not to notice. I think she’s cute, but then again, I think mice are cute too.

I can feel the tension in the room. Its licking my skin and making my hair stand on end, so I look away to the wide windows only to see my mom again. She’s banging on the glass that’s supposed to be soundproof, but she’s yelling so loud I catch a couple obscenities, and my mom rarely swears.

I got my potty mouth from my dad. It’s about all I got from him.

Martha is beside her now, crying. A doctor I barely recognize pulls mom away from the window and she slaps him. He doesn’t even flinch, and they begin to argue. Her hair is dishevelled and the barrette she always wears, the one I decorated for her in third grade Arts & Crafts, is on the verge of falling out. I can tell she wants to be let in, but she’s not allowed.

Thank god.

Grogginess invades me but I fight it. I don’t want to black out again. I don’t know what will lie on the other side of awake. But I can’t fight it for very long, and eventually the anesthetic wins out. I see my mom hit the doctor one more time and storm away, Martha in pursuit. I don’t want her in here, but I don’t want her to go, either. I’m afraid.

Why? Why do you always end up walking away from me? Please turn around. Please. I'm scared.

Mum wait, don’t go… Mommy, don’t go…

I black out amidst my panic, and the last thing I see are a pair of grey, disembodied eyes hovering over me.

I’m so afraid.