Dreamers (The Dreamers Series) (13 page)

“I don’t believe you, you’re lying. You love me. I saw it. I felt it in your touch, in your kiss—when we made...magic. I love you, Nick. Please don’t do this to me.”

“What don’t you understand exactly? I want to go home. I don’t belong here, I’m dead. You’re alive. Lana is willing to do everything humanly possible to make sure I get home. You’re more concerned with keeping me here for yourself. I’m sorry, Red, it’s over.”

He just called me Red. He and Lana planned this from the start, using me until she could break out of that institution. Sadness converts to rage easily, giving me power I though was way above my head. I could rip them both apart, shred by shred, and not bat an eye.

“Don’t you dare call me that, you bastard! Is that what this is, you two sitting around laughing about how stupid and pathetic I was? She even has you calling me that ridiculous name!” Hot angry tears flow rapidly from my eyes, drenching my face.

“You and I are done. Stay away from us. We have better things to do than dabble around in silly puppy love. And just so you know, next time you try to create a perfect spot to uh—make magic, as you so childishly call it, think original, everyone’s done the beach.”

With those final harsh words the channel has been cut off. I can’t see him, I can’t smell him—he’s gone. I’m too enraged to be crushed by the fact that I will never see him again. I don’t even care right now. The most beautiful night of my life has been made a mockery. Sadness and heartbreak take a back seat to sheer humiliation. This is the lowest point—the blackest hole I’ve ever experienced, it threatens to swallow me alive as I curl into a ball in the middle of the floor. The darkness of the room keeps me hidden from the creepy shadows dancing along the wall in the dim candle light. I pray they find me and take me away.

For now sleep is all there is. My awareness of it being a lonely isolated sleep is comforting in this moment. I couldn’t handle seeing him right now, nor could I handle seeing—them. Part of me wishes to never wake up. The other part of me—the part that’s burning inside—cannot wait to rise and tear my claws into that disgusting psycho the moment she walks through the door. I hold on to that image as my eyes close for the remainder of the day and night.

***

“Rise and shine, Red. It’s a beautiful day outside. You ready for a potty break?” Lana says cheerfully.

Unfortunately, my anger and rage dissipated hours ago, regretfully being replaced by emptiness and sorrow. I hate myself for missing him, for being disappointed that I saw nothing as I dreamt, only blackness. Pain cringes in my stomach each time his name creeps into my mind. My body is so heavy I can’t even be bothered to give Lana the lashing she deserves right now.

“I don’t need to go to the bathroom, go away,” I whisper, as my heart chokes.

“Aww, have you been crying?” She smirks. “Boys break your heart, I learned that long ago. I kinda feel sorry for you though. You tried so hard to make me believe you and Dominick weren’t involved. You aren’t very smart, are you? Did you never question how long I had been lurking around in your dream before I showed myself? Funny how quickly you forgot about that colorful little toucan. I think the red and blue feathers really brought out my eyes, don’t you, Red? It was a pretty racy show you two put on, but nothing compared to what Dominick and I did last night. You should have been there, he was mind blowing,” she torments.

“If you don’t plan on killing me, then just get the fuck out of here and leave me alone.”

“I didn’t just come to break bread with you. I was checking to see if you needed anything. You slept through breakfast and lunch so I wanted to make sure you ate dinner. I can’t have you dying on me, not yet.”

I squint slightly as the light breaks through the door. My eyes are having trouble readjusting. As soon as I begin making images out, I notice Lana has made her way through my closet and is wearing my favorite jeans and my Beatles t-shirt. My mini skirt and spaghetti strap shirt still cling to my body from last night’s escapade. It’s cold in here, I need something more to wear.

“I need some sweats and my black hoodie. I’m freezing.”

“I’ll bring ‘em when I come with your dinner. I’ve made spaghetti.”

“I’m not hungry, but I’ll still take those sweats.”

“You’re going to die in there if you keep being stubborn. Suit yourself, though. More for me.”

She brings my clothes a few minutes later. They are the only comfort I’ve found all day, offering warmth and security. If nothing else, with her gone I can at least lie here alone, without having to hear the disgusting details of their wonderful new life together. It still taunts me, however. How could he have sex with her only a day after I gave him my virginity—her, of all people? She is the foulest excuse for a woman I can imagine. Everything I saw within him was a lie. How could I have been so stupid and blind?

Self-doubt crushes me from the inside out. My life has been snatched away, as well as my heart. Dreamless nights and days are the only escape I can find. This is the way it’s going to be from now on, at least until I can eventually get out of here.

***

Not much has changed over the last few weeks, aside from the frequency of Lana’s visits. According to my calculations it has been twenty-two days since she first locked me in this prison. Some days are better than others. I pass my time thinking of ways to kill her when I finally get out of here. I’ve managed to get pretty creative about it. My current favorite has been holding her face in the toilet, like the piece of filthy shit she is, then pulling her up as she begins to pass out, only to hold her under again once her breathing stabilizes. I could envision this all day, every day and find happiness. Unfortunately, other days aren’t so good. I spent the better part of yesterday throwing up. I gave up the fight of starving myself after the first few days. I had weakened myself to the point where I could barely walk to the bathroom anymore. Since then my stomach hasn’t felt right. I eat and drink enough to keep me going. The food she brings isn’t the best, and lately I’m lucky to receive a peanut butter sandwich once a day. Her trips are becoming infrequent. She must be growing tired of caring for a grown woman, as she rarely stays long enough to torture me with her ramblings about Dominick anymore.

The first week was devastating. I was subjected to daily reports on the wonderful experiences they were having: how he had taken her on a romantic sailing trip, how she had learned to master dream control, how they were in newly-wed mode, screwing like rabbits every night. Initially I gave her the pleasure of enjoying my tears—too many times. By the second week in I made a decision. She would no longer enjoy my pain. Dominick didn’t deserve one more tear, one more thought—he wasn’t getting a minute longer from me. I’m mentally stronger now for having survived this ordeal. As quickly as he cut me out, I have done the same.

I do my best to use my time productively, dreaming of the day I will see my family again. Mia must be beside herself with worry. Lana must have contacted her somehow, fooling her into believing the same thing as she told Cayden, that I’m deathly sick with the flu. Although, my sister would only buy that for so long before she came to check on me. Her mommy instinct would never allow me to remain sick for over three weeks without being seen by a doctor, this I know. It leaves me questioning any other excuses she might have been given. There is no telling what Lana has done to convince everyone to stay away. Even Heather hasn’t come home. She was only supposed to be gone for a few weeks. Something is wrong here—very wrong. Someone should have been here by now.

I have to get my strength up somehow. The vomiting has taken every ounce of energy from my body, leaving me weak and vulnerable. I can’t stay here any longer, waiting for a rescuer is no longer an option. I have to do this for myself—alone.

I hear her coming again. It must be time for breakfast. When the door creeps open I see that she is wearing the outfit I borrowed from Mia the night Heather and I went on our first date to the Italian bistro. I wonder what Heather would think if she saw her now? Disgusted I’m sure. In the three weeks I’ve been in here she hasn’t seemed to shower even once, judging by the dirty smell wafting from her hair. Her hair is blonde but has taken on a dingy brown appearance from lack of cleaning. The only thing she attempts to keep up with is changing clothing—my clothing. The large black circles beneath her pale blue eyes tell me she is keeping herself fully sedated in order to be with—him.

Don’t think about that, Sydney. Forget about him.

“I brought you another peanut butter sandwich, Red. I don’t have time to cook. Not that it really matters what you eat, you’re just gonna barf it up anyway. I don’t know why I even bother.”

“Maybe if you would let me see a doctor I might actually get better. I’m vomiting all the time, I’m too weak to even get up some days, and I’m having headaches probably from malnutrition. I need a doctor, or at least some medicine.”

“I brought medicine, but no doctor.”

“Why won’t you just let me go? You and Dominick are together. Heather isn’t home yet. There is no reason to keep me here any longer.”

“You’re my leverage.”

“Leverage for what? What could I possibly have that will help you?”

“Never mind that, just be patient and stop whining. I was locked up in that institution for months. You’ll survive.” She rolls her eyes. “I’ll let you get back to your puke bowl.”

The moment the door closes I swallow down a double dose of Pepto Bismol. I have to get well or I’ll never get out of here.

I lay my head against the door as another bout of nausea begins to swelter in my churning stomach. That’s when I notice I can hear Lana talking. I assume she’s on the phone since I hear only a single voice. I tune everything out, concentration solely on her voice. I draw it in, making it seem more abundant in my ears. My face flushes as I hold my breath so I don’t miss a word.

“Heather, she isn’t ready for you to come back yet. We have had this conversation a hundred times in the last few days. I’ve told you already, she is under my care right now. I am a licensed psychiatrist, and I cannot disclose any information to you about Miss Preston. All I can legally say is that at this point in her treatment it is crucial that she remain in a calm state of mind, so as to not interfere with the process. She experienced a severe level of trauma from the—ordeal. I’m sure you’re aware, and I’m certain you understand. I will let you know when she is ready for visitors…Yes, I am aware that this is your home, Miss Grayson…”

Lana becomes frustrated by Heather’s persistence. She doesn’t seem to be buying into Lana’s phony explanation, as it’s apparent that she is arguing heavily.

“You have a responsibility to Sydney. As her friend and companion you should want the best care for her. This is part of the healing process. Leave her be.”

Lana seems to have gotten through to Heather. Sadly, Heather would never compromise my wellbeing, specifically when she feels that she was the primary cause. Lana is playing her mistake against her to keep her out of her own home. I wish more than anything that Heather could just be selfish for once in her life. I wish she could be like Dominick right now. He had no concern for my wellbeing. He was more concerned with himself. He left me here to deal with Lana all alone.

Heather, please don’t listen to her. She has me trapped here. Come home, Heather. Come home!

Of course she can’t hear me talking to myself, but even if it’s purely mental, I have to try. Sadness overwhelms me, filling my eyes with liquid emotion. The weak moment is short lived as I hear Lana begin a new conversation. My ears perk right back up as I dry my eyes.

“You need to get Heather in check. She is blowing up Sydney’s phone every five minutes. She isn’t going to wait much longer. When she comes home, everything will fall apart.”

Whomever she is speaking to seems to be riding her pretty hard. Lana’s voice changes as she gets reamed by the mystery caller.

“I know we had a deal. I was supposed to get rid of Sydney, you would declare me insane, and I would get off scot-free. Blah blah blah…Yes, I remember. Things change, Peyton. I’ve already fucking told you I’m not going to kill her. She is my bargaining chip right now.”

I gasp as I realize Peyton is the caller, and she is strongly displeased with Lana, as she is yelling so loudly that I can actually hear her voice boasting from the phone. Lana is becoming increasingly agitated. Her feet pace loudly across the living room floor.

“Peyton, you’re in this as deep as I am. Between Heather, Mia, and Cayden, someone is going to find out, and soon. People are beginning to smell a rat. You better come through with your part of the bargain or I’m leaving. I’m not going down for Sydney, and I’m sure as hell not going down for you. We are moving on to plan B. Get your shit together.”

Peyton’s voice softens as I can no longer hear her through the phone. The final words I hear leave me confused.

“No, he can’t read my mind. I’m still taking those pills you gave me. Since I’ve been taking them he can’t seem to penetrate my mind at all, you were right. He has no idea what I know—what WE know. Now listen, since we are off to plan B, I need to hurry and pack my shit and get away from here. I’m going to torch the place, with
HER
in it. Are you okay with that? … Alright then, start making arrangements.”

She hangs up without further commentary. I begin to panic as I hear her feet scurrying around the apartment. She is packing her things to leave.

I bang on the door loudly commanding her attention. As weak as I am physically, this is not the best time to be doing this, but it might be the only chance I get before she burns the apartment down, leaving me inside.

“What do you want?” she asks irritated, from outside the door.

“Lana, I need to go to the bathroom. I can’t hold it. Whatever virus I have is giving me diarrhea, as well. Please, I’ll be fast.”

I grab the only weapon I have within reach, a plate. I take my chance the moment I see her, smashing the glass plate into a shattered mess across her face. She drops to her knees, giving me the opportunity I need to make my way to the front door. I reach it within seconds, but it won’t open.