Evanescence (Black Rose #1)

by R. J. Rogue

"No, none at all actually," I say perplexed. "I just could have sworn it was broken."

  She shrugs.

  "You're stronger than most of us regular people."

  "No, I'm human just like you."

  She smiles and shakes her head standing to her feet.

  "I hate hearing you downgrade yourself."

  I quirk a brow. She opens the freezer.

  "Hungry?"

  My stomach growls.

  "Starving."

  "Vegetable lasagna?"

  "My favorite," I smile.

  She nods and takes out the frozen rectangular goodness.

  "Want to talk about what happened out there? Not trying to make you think I'm worrying like I usually do, but would be nice to know," she says.

  Guess I blame myself for lashing out at her earlier. I fiddle with my fingers as she preheats the oven. She takes a seat across from me.

  "So?" She says as she taps the table with her hand.

  "Well," I clear my throat.

  "Would you like some water, Evan?" She says rising to her feet. I feel like I'm being interrogated at a police station with the two way mirrors.

  "Here you go."

  She places a tall glass of water in front of me, takes a seat, and goes back to watching me. I take a sip of water.

  "Well, I did some writing," I say avoiding her question.

  "Oh yeah?" She smiles, "what'd you write about?"

  Essence, but that's private.

  "I wrote about today."

  "And what happened today?"

  "I -- it was an okay day."

  "Oh?" She responds. "Well, I thought it was far worse than an 'okay day.'"

  "Um. I made a new friend during gym class."

  Enemy is more accurate. My stomach ties into a knot and for a moment I don't feel as hungry.

  "Who's your new friend you made at school?" She gets up and puts the vegetable lasagna in the oven. I drink more water.

  "Umm, Cedric."

  She closes the oven door and stands still. I await a response, but none is given.

  "Mom?"

  She doesn't respond.

  "Mom?"

  "What did you say his name is?" She says still having her back to me.

  "Cedric."

  She nods forever, then turns to me and sits.

  "Careful of the friends you make, Evan."

  "What do you --"

  "JUST be careful," she says cutting me off staring into my eyes. "You don't know him."

  I don't know Cedric that's for sure, but what I do know is that he doesn't like me and what I also know is that he probably never will.

  "Okay," she says with a much more positive attitude. "Go up, shower, and get into something dry. Your food should be ready by then."

  I exhale relief from the twenty-one questions. The interrogation is over and I am free to go. I head upstairs with my book bag and a thought crosses my mind. I turn to an open page on my notebook and draw the symbol I had seen on the 'visitor's' hand. I stare at it for a bit recording it to memory. What does it mean? I've never seen it before. I close the notebook and take a nice hot shower killing the goosebumps that covers me. I dress into something comfortable for the night and head back downstairs to the kitchen.

  My plate rests on the counter, but mom is nowhere to be found. I walk into the living room and there she sits in the rocking chair asleep. I take the cover that hangs over the couch and put it over her to keep her warm. She curls the covers up to her neck as she exhales deeply. Sleep is something I crave myself.

  I head back into the kitchen and devour the meal, barely taking a breath. It wasn't satisfying enough. I want more. I'm still so hungry. I open the cabinets. Nothing I want. I open the fridge and then the freezer searching for something to eat as my stomach cries. Nothing. I clench my jaw, ball my hands into fists, and squint my eyes. I glance at the plate I placed in the sink. I stare at the residue and begin to lick. I stop and put the plate onto the counter. What am I doing? I think to myself.

  I look around and try to fight my hunger pains, but a scent catches my nose. A warm, rose garden goodness. My mouth salivates and my teeth begin to ache. I look through the doorway of the living at my mother. I take a step and the next thing I know, I am standing over her, looking down and into her neck. The smell is strong and irresistible. I place my nose into her neck and inhale as deep as I can. It's her. What is this feeling?

  The sound of a branch snapping echoes inside of my head. I crack my neck and it goes away. I lick my lips, my heartbeat beats ecstatically, and I place a hand over my chest hoping it would calm. It soon stops. I feel nothing there. My eyes race for answers as I try to feel for my heart, but still. Nothing, but my now cold skin. I take a step back.

  "Evan?"

  I jump out of my skin.

  "You okay? What's wrong?" She asks. "You look afraid."

  I try to catch my breath and feel under my shirt again. Warmth returns and my heart delays before beating again.

  "Nothing…um…just tired," I say. "I'm going to get some sleep. Goodnight, Mom."

  I head up the stairs and into the bathroom. I look in the mirror trying to collect myself. I blink and soon after, red surrounds my pupils, then slowly disappears.

  "What's happening to me?"

  Chapter Seven: Nightmare

  Gentle hands tuck beneath my armpits and bring me to their owner. She is beautiful. Her eyes have a calm glow against her peach blushed face and short blonde hair. She smiles and kisses my face then places me down next to a sea of toys on the ocean sized rug. A long blonde haired girl wearing a white dress and stockings takes my hand. She smiles and I return the gesture by doing the same. Our eye levels match.

  "What's your name?" I ask her.

  She giggles.

  "A new game, Evan? I'm Beebee."

  Beebee.

  "Let's go!"

  She grips my hand and begins to run. I struggle to keep up and soon she lets go. She's quite fast as we turn corner after corner, rounding the cream covered walls and portraits, and trotting across the red carpeted floors. I wish to stop for a quick look, but Beebee continues to run as I try to pick up the pace.

  "Come on, Evan. Keep up!"

  We run through a huge Romanesque room that has a large piano in the center. We then run down another hallway in which the distance between us begins to grow. She turns a corner and when I do, she is gone. I stand before a dark entrance. Cold air escapes and cuts across my skin. I hold my shoulders and hug myself.

  "Beebee?"

  No reply. I take a step back.

  "Beebee?!"

  "Come here, Evan!" She calls out from the dark.

  I gulp.

  "Don't be afraid," she says almost in a whisper. "You can do it. Never let anything scare you. Not even the dark."

  I stare into the darkness and take a deep breath.

  "Okay."

  I walk with caution and fight to see what is before me.

  "Beebee, where are you?"

  I extend my arms to feel for her or anything that can save me, but only feel the cold of the room.

  "Focus, Evan," she says. "And you will see."

  My heart pounds against my sternum. I close my eyes and try to control my breathing. When I open them, I can see. The darkness is not as thick and much more bearable.

  "Beebee?" I call out. "I still can't find you."

  She doesn't not respond back. Each step I take, the floorboards squeak. I hear footsteps behind me and turn to face it. Nothing. Then I hear it again, but this time it almost knocks me to the ground. I cover my face with my hands and feel goosebumps spread along my skin.

  "Beebee, where are you? I'm afraid."

  "Up here," I hear her whisper.

  I remove my hands from my face and look up. A small figure sits high on what looks like a chandelier. A faint glow of ruby red emerges from the darkness. I gasp. A bright light fills the room and her eyes are normal, human. I turn to the door and the young boy with the black hair covering h
is one eye stands in the doorway with his hand resting on the light switch.

  "What are you two doing in my room?" He asks with a frown.

  "Umm, we were just --" I look up to BeeBee, but she's gone. The chandelier swings back and forth.

  "We were just playing," she says making me flinch and jump away. "Evan was trying to find me."

  How did she get down so fast and without hurting herself?

  "Don't play in here," he asserts.

  "But we're bored and you don't play with us anymore," she says with a pout, puckering her bottom lip.

  He stands silent, then rolls his eyes.

  "Hmm..." He finally says. "I have something we can play."

  "Really?!" Beebee exclaims jumping and clasping her hands together. At least one of us is excited.

  He nods and a smirk spreads across his lips as his eyes leech onto mine. He walks past parting us and approaches the large see-through glass doors that stand from floor to ceiling. It leads to an outside black-stoned balcony. He opens the doors and a gust of wind almost knocks Beebee and I to the floor. We shelter ourselves with our arms and hands as he stands like a solid brick wall. He looks over his shoulder at us.

  "Come."

  We don't budge; we remain silent.

  "You're not afraid are you?"

  I am. I look at Beebee and she shakes her head.

  "Then come."

  He walks out and onto the balcony and places his hands on the ledge. My palms moisten and I brush them across my laps. He stares out to the sky and ocean. Beebee and I await our next order.

  "Let's play, 'jumper,'" He says turning to us. "Beebee, you go first."

  He motions his hand to the ledge. Beebee balls her hands into fists and stomps her foot.

  "Why do I always have to go first?" she says. "It isn't fair!"

  He folds his arms across his chest and scoffs.

  "Alright, alright. Don't cry about it," he says. "Evan, you go."

  My heart leaps into my throat and I raise my hands in defense. He doesn't actually mean to jump does he?

  "Sorry, I don't think I--"

  "Fine!" He says dropping his arms. "Since you babies are too scared, I'll go."

  He pushes us aside and goes to the windows. His eyes turn red as he squats down placing a hand on the black rocks. Beebee and I step further apart and he begins to run. He places his foot on the ledge and I cover my mouth with my hands firmly. He leaps into the air with his arms out like a bird's wings and disappears over the ledge.

  We rush to the ledge and look over. Only clouds and raging water against the cliff. He killed himself!

  "Beebee! Why did he do that?!" I ask still looking over the ledge for him. "Why did he jump?

  She doesn't respond.

  "Beebee?" I say now turning around.

  "Your turn!" The boy yells as we meet face to face. A blow hits my chest and I flip over the ledge. Screams escape my throat as I plummet through the sky and gray clouds as weightless as a feather. The sky is falling with rain, with myself within it. Soon, I will hit the water below, yet I know it will feel like cement. I cannot swim so my best hope is that the blow will kill me and not the drowning. I manage to turn myself in the air as the ocean rises exponentially. As I get closer, the water turns into bedrock. I gasp as I brace myself for a blow I know I will not survive. I throw my arms forward believing it would help cushion the impact. As soon as I connect, I'm jumping up in my bed drowning in my own sweat. I was dreaming.

  Deep breaths leave my lips. I place my hands on my chest. My heart delays before it begins to beat. At least it was only that, a dream. It felt real and I'm not sure if what my body feels now is a rush of imaginable pain from adrenaline or if pain was really inflicted. That little girl, her name is Beebee, and the boy, nothing but an enemy to me. Why do I keep having nightmares about them? What do these nightmares mean and why are they always in them? I place my head back onto my wet pillow and decided to stare at the ceiling until the sun rises.

  Chapter Eight: Second Impression

  I look to my window, and morning had come. I look over at the time, and my stomach ties into a knot. First period would begin shortly. I hop out of bed almost falling to the floor and shuffle through my drawer for clothes. After changing, I grab my book bag from the floor, stuff my notebook inside, and head downstairs. My mother is gone and on the kitchen island is a note.

  "Was called into work early. See you when you get home. Love you. P.S. Don't be late for school. -Mom.

  "Already am."

  I crumble the note and toss it into the trash, then grab a Naked drink from the fridge before heading out the door. This will be breakfast.

  ~

  It must have rained throughout the night. The pavement is wet and the sky is gray like it was in my nightmare. I wipe the seat of my bike and head for school. As I race down the streets and slopes of Utica, NY, I am unable to enjoy my favorite weather, the smell of mint and pine from the trees, and the toasted bread from the local bakery. I soon reach the school campus and lock my bike on the rack. I race up the steps and pull the doors open to find an expected empty hallway.

  I unintentionally shift into autopilot unable to focus in any of my classes, thinking about all of the nightmares I have had. They are linked together and though they make me afraid, they seem relevant and more like distant memories. But memories are real, dreams are not. When I was younger, these people didn't have faces, but I could tell they were the same people. How come now I can see them for what they really look like? I use to dream about playing with the little girl, Beebee, and fighting with the little boy. The woman was always holding and kissing me, but I could say it wasn't my mother Sarah. It was someone else. The man, he sometimes was comforting as well, but I feared him. He seemed upset with me about something quite often. And the man, with long black hair, he was always in my dreams too, but I didn't fear him. He seemed like a perfect older brother or uncle.

  A tray of food slams in front of me and I wake up from my daze.

  "You look dead," Mike says with a half-worried smile. He takes a seat.

  "Yeah, well, not yet I guess," I respond with a deep breath.

  "What's on your mind?" He asks taking a bite from his apple.

  "Not sure where to begin honestly."

  "I'm listening."

  "Well, I was in the woods yesterday and saw -- something."

  Mike takes a bite out of his sandwich and shrugs.

  "What was it?" he asks with a mouth full.

  "It wasn't an 'it' it was more of a 'who.'"

  "Okayyy, so who was it? What'd they look like?"

  I shrug my shoulders.

  "I'm not too sure. I couldn't get a good look at him, but he was running in the trees above me."

  How stupid did that just sound? Mike's eyes squint as he shifts his head to the side.

  "A man was chasing you? Running in the trees?" He asks as though I am telling nonsense. I don't blame him.

  "Yes," I answer.

  Mike laughs and shakes his head.

  "Mike, I know what you're thinking. This wasn't another nightmare. I'm telling you this man chased me, I ran into a tree, fainted, and my mother finds me laying there with a broken wrist."

  He clocks my wrist which of course did no justice in anything I was saying.

  "Your wrist looks pretty fine to me," he says.

  I sigh. He stops eating and puts his sandwich down on his tray. He swallows the bite he had taken.

  "Okay, I'm sorry. I believe you. But Ev, if you ask me he sounds a bit like a Tarzan or something. Not a threat. Just some crazy guy scaring the living," he says.

  "I did have a nightmare last night though."

  "Oh?"

  "I was chasing that little girl, BeeBee. We got to this room and the boy, pushes me off a cliff. It was, weird. Not just the dream itself, but the two of them. They are always in my dreams. Any thoughts?"

  "I think dreams are just ways of telling you something important that you probably don't know yo
u neglect."

  I nod my head.

  "That's the same thing Essence said." My heart drops. I have to apologize today. It can't go another day.

  "And how am I supposed to find out what it is that I neglect."

  Mike stops eating and thinks for a bit.

  "Maybe you should ask yourself what's always in your nightmares that never change."

  I nod my head agreeing and approach an epiphany.

  "Maybe it's more of a who."

  "Exactly," he says holding up his apple then taking a huge bite.

  I have to find out who these people are, but I guess the only place I can start looking are my nightmares alone which haven't been much help. Do these people really exist somewhere in the world? If they do, what if they are right here in Utica? What would I say to them?

  "I have yet to seen Essence today to apologize."

  "She's here though," Mike assures.

  I look over Mike's shoulder and across the lunchroom sits Bianca. She smiles and raises her hand as a hello. I return her gesture with a smile. Mike follows my eyes and meets Bianca's. She blushes, but then taps her hand besides her for Mike to sit.

  "Evan, you'll be alright here?"

  "Yeah, I'll be fine. Go to her. She's waiting for you," I force a chuckle.

  "And that she is. Nice hair by the way," he says.

  "What do you mean?" I ask frowning and feeling atop my head.

  "You dyed it. Black," he says.

  "Black?" I try to look up, but can't see for myself.

  "I see you ditched the glasses and even look a bit swollen. Been hitting the gym for Essence, huh?" He laughs.

  I feel my face and realize I must've left my glasses at home rushing out of the door. Although, I have been able to see perfectly fine today as if I had them. Even more confusing, Mike says my hair is black and --. I look down at myself. I guess I do look a bit more fit than I usually do. Not to mention, I feel strong.

  "It's okay, Ev," he says. "I'm not judging. Digging the look. Keep it up and she'll be wrapped around your finger bro. Catch ya' later."

  He grabs his tray and tosses his garbage before going to Bianca's table. I glance down into my hands flipping them back and forth. I exhale deeply and reject trying to solve yet another mystery. To my left are my books piled on the table. My writing book on top. I then realize that I have yet to write down the nightmare or a journal entry today. Mom would be upset, but it isn't like she would know anyway if I don't mention the nightmare. I smile at my carefree sense of humor, but then it dissolves. If I don't write it down, guilt will surely eat away at me.