In Memory (23 page)

88 Days, 1 December, Monday

Last night was, as I thought it might be, one of the nights where I had a disturbing dream that woke me from sound sleep.

C
an sort of tell when these dreams are going to sneak up on me, just by the day I had before. If everything went great, and I had a generally happy day, I don’t get nightmares.

If, however, my day was worrisome or stressful in some way, that’s when the nightmares will strike.

Hearing the date of Noah’s birthday, my predetermined deathday, is what triggered last nights terrors.

Dunno
if I could really even describe it.

It was so murky compared to my other dreams, like everything was being viewed from across some ghostly veil. Weird.

Monsters and
dark shapes kept attacking me,
had to fight them off, but I kept getting hit anyway. Two people ran past me, one had bright white hair, like Tobias.

That’s when everything snapped into something more real. Noah was at my side, holding a long thin sword that pulsed with light.

“I will protect you.” He said in a strong clear voice, challenging all the dark shapes around us. One of the shapes charged forward, long dark arms snaking around us. Abruptly, another bright light shone, overpowering the warm glow of his sword.

Two huge wings burst from Noah’s back, shining
with beautiful white light. C
ould feel the feathers touch my skin, and found an immeasurable comfort from their touch.

T
ouched his face, smiling at him. “I’ll protect you too.”

He turned away, “You can’t, you know.”

W
as about to protest when I heard a loud ripping noise, and then something-

I have never experienced anything as painful as in that dream. Claws, or spears, or swords or something dug into my back, ripping through flesh and bone alike. The worst part was the
sound.
It was a sick crunching squishing noise, adding to the agony that cleaved me in two.

I screamed, couldn’t stop it. F
ell into his arms as a cascade of blood poured over both of us. It was nauseating, horrifying, that pain lanced through my whole body, sending spasms of shock through my brain. I convulsed from it, falling more heavily on him.

“Aerie!” His voice cracked as he called my name, allowing himself to fall with my momentum.

I s
aw a hole in one of his wings, and the red of the blood was brilliant against the blazing white.

C
ouldn’t even talk, to reassure him, tell him this wasn’t
real.

It felt more real than anything I had ever felt. Like something had just ripped all of my ins
ides out along with my back. C
ouldn’t be sick even if I wanted to.

The last sound I heard in that place was
him
crying out my name, over and over, sobbing as he held me close.

W
oke up with a shout, and sat straight up, breathing heavily. A cold sweat broke out all over me as I fought to regain a more normal breathing pattern.

Terra was there, standing above me, l
ooking worried and confused. C
ouldn’t help but start to cry from the confusion and pain, and just seeing her face, and hearing Noah’s voice in my mind.

C
overed my face with my hands, feeling the hot wet tears collect in my palms. Terra sat down beside me, gently pulling me into a hug, which I quickly reciprocated.

“Shh, honey… it’s okay… you’re okay… You’re alright now, I’ve got you… it was just a nightmare…”

L
oved her words of comfort, they soothed me, even if they were relatively simple. Perhaps they meant more because she truly meant them.

D
on’t remember anything else that happened after that, or falling asleep for that matter.

J
ust remember waking up, and then recalling that was what happened last night.

W
as all jittery at school today too, and couldn’t really focus on anything. Noah seemed to realise I had something on my mind, an
d was quiet most of the day. D
on’t think he wants to ask me anything about what’s making me upset for fear of making it worse.

K
ind of wish he would sometimes, though. It would be nice to talk about things like that.

Usually, talking about things make them better.

Well, there are some exceptions.
Math, for example.
The more that teacher drones on and on, the worse the whole thing gets.

S
uppose if I heard every instance of abuse Noah has endured, it could make it all the worse too. It’s better to stay uninformed sometimes.

Ignorance is bliss.

87 Days, 2 December, Tuesday

Today, on my way back from the store, it snowed a ton.
Like crazy ridiculous amounts of snow.
In the short time I was shopping, I swear it snowed a good foot and a half.

Okay, maybe I’m exaggerating a bit, but it was the huge fluffy snow, that piles up around doorways, and swirls around magically, cloaking everything in clean pure white.
Absolutely beautifu
l.
T
hink I’ve come to appreciate the colour white more now than ever because it’s the only colour I’ve ever seen Noah wear.

(Aside from the jacket I gave him, but the red looks lovely on him.)

P
ictured him in the snowstorm, walking slowly with a white coat around him, and his usual solemn look. Maybe this imagery seems so profound to me because white generally symbolizes innocence.

L
ike to think he’s innocent.

Mostly because I know he’s never hurt anyone else in his life.
At least not on purpose.
It’s never his fault other people get hurt. It’s that damn curse. His intentions are always good, and I know he’s never tried to hurt anyone. Probably because he knows all too well how it feels to be hurt.

Although, one might counter and say he’s the least innocent of anyone because all of the horrible things he’s witnessed. His mother’s death, his abuse, those horrible dreams, people hurt because of his curse…

It’s not fair.

He wasn’t at school
today,
maybe that’s why I’m thinking about him so much. He needs to occupy a certain amount of my day, or I feel lonely I guess.

Terra seemed to miss him too.

“Where’s Noah today?”

“I’m not sure, he was absent.”

“Hmm, it’d be nice if he was here.”

“Yeah.”

“You should invite him over Christmas break sometime. We could have a little party.”

“Sounds good to me.”

L
ove that she loves him.

86 Days, 3 December, Wednesday

Last night, I was in that now-familiar classroom, and Tobias seemed to have been expecting me. He was sitting in the same seat Noah sits in
in
most of our classes, and was staring at my seat.

“You seem to come here more often as of late.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” S
at down in my seat,
swivelling
around to look at him.

“There is information you should know.”

“Huh?”

“I am going to inform you of something, please pay attention.”

“
Er
, yeah, okay.”

“Noah has been beaten. He is very hurt and is not thinking clearly. I suggest you find him
post-haste
.”

“
Wha
- huh? What happened?”

“He arrived home on Sunday, and smelled of your aftershave, I believe.”

“
And…?”

“His father detected the scent and questioned him about where he was. Noah was unable to provide an adequate excuse, and so his father took out his frustrations on him fully. I am also under the impression Father was intoxicated, and was even more out of control than most days.”

“Wait, where is he right now? I need to wake up and find him.”

“I believe he is outside somewhere. There were strange metal structures around.”

“Like the park? How do you know?”

“Noah and I have a connection, whether or not he knows about it.”

“Tobias, let me wake up so I can find him. I have to go now.”

“Time is irrelevant here, you could stay here for hours and then go to him at the same time you would if you left now.”

“That’s not the point! I have to make sure he’s okay, for him and myself as well. If he has to be in pain even one more second, it’ll hurt me too.”

“You love him more. I understand.”

Tobias turned away, and I woke up.

The park,
had to get there. Briefly, I looked at the clock. It was just getting past 6:00. So it’ll be dark out.

P
ulled on jeans and a
hoodie
, and quickly tugged my hair into a ponytail. As a last-minute thought, I yanked the soft red blanket off my bed. Assuming Noah was outside and confused like Tobias said, he wouldn’t have a coat. Keys in my pocket, and out the door.

R
an to the park, the only clue Tobias could offer me. Snow was everywhere, light flurries rushing past me as I jogged around the play equipment, watching for him.

It felt so cold. W
rapped the blanket around me, wishing I had better
snow boots than my sneakers. S
earched the playground up and down, softly calling for him. Then I remembered about the grocery store, and his instinctive behaviour to hide in
small concealed
places.

Apparently, I was wrong. As I was running over to the tower structure with the small compartments, I found him.

He was lying on his side in the snow, slightly covered in snow. Tiny breaths puffed out of his mouth,
laboured
and wheezing. There were bruises across his throat, visible in the murky half-light of the playground lamps. The snow was wet enough that it melted as it landed on him. It soaked into his thin dress shirt, making it stick to the sharp contours of his body.

I touched him, feeling the barest sense of warmth com
ing from him. He was so cold… T
hrew the blanket over him, lifting him up next to me. I had to get him out of the snow.

His hands made feeble grabbing gestures as I gathered him into my arms, and somehow managed to gr
ab my shoulders as a support. C
arried him out of the park, trudging as fast as I could through the snow.

We were both close to freezing to death I think. I checked later, a
nd apparently it was close to -1
5C.

C
an’t believe how light he is. Sure, it’s a strain to carry him, but he’s lighter than he should be. It’s worrisome.

He made small murmuring noises, and then his hand fell away from my shoulder and he was silent. Once I got to my house, I barged
inside,
kicking the front door shut and quickly took him to his room.

S
tripped him of his clothing immediately, throwing it all into
a wet bundle beside the bed. D
ried him with his blankets, very aware of the new bruises painting his flesh.

Shaking my head, I tucked him under his blankets, firmly wrapping him up.

I l
eft, and went to the laundry room to gather a set of my clothes, as well as the large heating blanket. I returned to the bedroom, and he seemed to be coming round a little. He was shivering madly, anyway, which is usually a good sign. At least he’s moving.

P
lugged in the blanket, sliding it under the quilt, and then took off my own clo
thes, getting in beside him. T
ook him in my arms, rubbing his pale cold flesh to establish some warmth. He touched me gently, his thin fingers like ice.

F
elt his emotions more strongly than ever before, my skin sparking at every point of contact
instead of my usual reading from the back of his neck
. The s
adness was the most obvious. C
ould hear his thoughts, crying out within him, screaming through his mind. A harsh loneliness bit through the sadness, and re-enacted a life of solitude in my mind’s eye.

“I don’t want to be alone. I just wanted to be happy.”

At that moment, he might have breathed out my name, and he leaned into me.

After about fifteen minutes, when the heat blanket kicked in, I think he was starting to regain a more normal temperature. He was almost coherent, but was mumbling words to himself.

“Don’t… the lighthouse… Aerie. It hurts. I crashed. Hurricane. He knows… snow, I crashed.”