by A.G. Porter
My alarm clock went off at exactly 6:00 am. I slammed my hand down on the diabolical contraption and pulled the blankets over my face. Surely the person who invented something that sounded like nails on a chalkboard had to be pure evil. As I felt my mind and body relaxing, drifting off to sleep, Cynthia knocked on the door. I groaned.
"Liam, dear, " she called, pushing the door open. "You're going to be late if you don't get up."
"Hmmm," was the only sound I could make as I rolled over on my side.
"Liam," she repeated sternly.
"OK, alright, I'm up," I said, pulling the covers off my face. "See."
Cynthia looked at me with her soft, blue eyes, smiling. She was already dressed; hair brushed, make-up on and looked bright-eyed, ready to tackle the day. I envied her.
"I'm up; I swear," I told her again, sitting up as she lingered in the doorway.
"I know finding a night where you actually sleep is rare," she began. "I hate I have to wake you up."
"It's fine, really," I lied. "That bit of rest did me well."
"I hope so," she responded, but didn't seem at all convinced.
Stretching, yawning, and debating on whether or not I wanted to go back to sleep, I slid out of bed. Sleeping through the night was a rarity as Cynthia pointed out. Sleeping at all was even more so. When I did have nights that I actually slept, it was hard to wake up. It was as if my body was trying to play catch up and I felt like I could sleep for days.
Sleeping this heavily with the help of the medication I was on, always made me feel groggy. Sometimes it seemed like I was moving in slow motion, at other times it felt like I was racing past everyone else. Right now, I just felt odd.
Something about today felt familiar, d?j? vu if you will. The smells, the sounds, it was all so disconcerting because of how memorable it all seemed. This wasn't something I needed to be concerned with at the moment. I had to make sure I worked hard at this internship if I wanted my dad to stay off my back.
I wanted to take my band on the road, not to get away from him or Cynthia, but just to get away. I needed something, somewhere that took my mind from the past.
"You can't run from your problems, Liam," he said to me during one of our heated arguments.
He wanted me to go to university and I wanted to hit the open road.
"Why not? Isn't that what you and Mum did?" I lost my temper, throwing salt in an open wound, grinding it in. "You ran to America and she just ran away."
"Your mother loves you," he flinched.
"Yeah, I have years worth of birthday cards just filled with words of 'Love'," I said quietly, but knowing he heard me.
"Well, I love you and you know it," he pulled me into a hug. "Just?just stay one more summer, join the program. If you still want to leave when it's done then I won't stop you."
"OK, Dad, OK," I agreed, hugging him back. "I love you, too."
That was one of the worst things about my parents splitting up, watching Dad crumble. He had always been affectionate and emotional. When he loved you, he showed it. At times it was overbearing, like in this situation, but I wouldn't change him for anything. He and I had always been similar in that regard.
I couldn't waste anymore time otherwise Cynthia would come back in here and give me an earful. Quickly, I dressed and met her downstairs. Dad was already at The Landing. If he wasn't at the hospital then he was working there. He always made sure he was home for dinner though unless he just couldn't help it. He never wanted me or Cynthia to feel as though his job was more important.
When I found out we were moving to America I was devastated. Australia was all I ever knew. My roots, my life, my everything was there. That was where Mikey was buried. I begged my father to not take me, but it wasn't like he had much of a choice. My mother didn't want me.
After the funeral she went to her sister's to stay for a few weeks. She never came back. She sent divorce papers to my father and we never saw her again. For the next few years she would send letters and birthday cards, but that was it. It was always sent from a different address.
Dad met Cynthia through mutual friends. She pretty much saved him. Soon after that Dad told me we were moving to America. Trying to be the good son I didn't put up much of a fight at first. Then when it became a reality, I panicked. It took a great amount of convincing to get me to at least become comfortable with the idea.
I was only a kid and leaving the country I was born in, for what? Because my dad needed a change of scenery? That's what it felt like at the time, but honestly, so did I. It wasn't running away from anything, it was running toward life. He probably saved my life as much as Cynthia saved his.
The Landing, it had saved my life countless times. Once we settled into our new home in Huntsville, the nightmares started. I would wake up screaming, calling out Mikey's name. Dad would hold me until I fell back to sleep. Just when the doctors thought the nightmares were over, I stopped sleeping at all.
Over the years I've learned to live with it. It's better than what I would see when I feel asleep. Perhaps that's why I couldn't sleep. Still, I thought I was going to lose my mind. My doctor recommended a family vacation out on the lake and Dad rented us a cabin in Guntersville. That's where we all fell in love with this small town. That's where I was able to look at the water and not feel the pain of losing Mikey all over again.
It didn't cure my insomnia, but it made it bearable. Before I knew it, Dad bought a cabin, became President of The Landing, and now we practically live here. Here is where I met Marti and most of band mates.
Marti, I found solace in her at one time. I want to find that in her again, but she continuously pushes me away. I ask her why and all she can say is that I am not the same. It's funny because I don't feel like I've changed. Sometimes I wonder if it's because she can see the pain in me, the pain that keeps me awake, that eats at my soul.
She is light and I am darkness. What I have gone through isn't something she can understand. The darkness of life hasn't touched her before. She doesn't know what loss is and I hope she never has to. I think that's the part of her I am drawn to, the peaceful part.
Something has changed in me though. The nightmares come more frequently now. They hurt, but it's almost as if I'm viewing them from someone else's body because they don't break me down the way they used to.
Still, there is something I can't quite put my finger on. I can feel something in the air, something toxic. I know it sounds crazy, but I can feel it. There is something inside of me; something dark and I think she knows it. That's why she doesn't want to be around me anymore.
"Do you want a ride to the Guest House?" Cynthia asks.
"No, thank you," I tell her. "I'm going to ride my bike."
"Please be careful and wear your helmet," she looks worried. "I still can't believe your father bought that thing for you."
"It's just a dirt bike, Cynthia," I laugh at her.
"Yes, well, it still can be dangerous," she narrows her eyes at me.
"I'll be careful," I promise.
"Oh, this came from your Aunt Kathy," she hands me a package as she takes a sip from her coffee mug.
Aunt Kathy, Cynthia's twin sister, and I have a very bizarre relationship. She is twelve years old than I am, but acts like she's a teenager. When she visits we spend most of our time watching scary movies, going to local rock concerts, and eating way too much junk food. She always sends me cassette tapes; yes tapes, from local Australian rock bands. Sure enough, I pull out several cassette tapes, smiling.
I shove them in my backpack and head out the door. I'll be listening to them tonight. I think I'm probably the only teenager to own a Walkman for the sole purpose of listing to Indie Rock Bands on tape. There is just something about the scratches and pops you hear in the music that makes you realize an actual person is playing the instrument rather than a computer.
As soon as I enter the Guest House, Mr. Wu corners me about the PA System. Something isn't working and I'm th
e man for the job. I've always liked Mr. Wu. He welcomed us in with open arms and would take me fishing when Dad had a long day at the hospital.
I can't say that I had ever been fishing before that. It was definitely fun. We kayaked down the river until we found his favorite fishing spot. It was nestled beside an abandoned Mill, which had a sign on it that read "Haunted by the Ghost of Jesse Barnum." It was the oddest thing. We stayed there all day and caught enough fish to invite people over for a fish fry the next day.
"You're the best, Liam," he patted my shoulder as I headed toward the auditorium.
I was the first one in, but it didn't take long for the place to fill up. Interns were piling in, finding a seat or chatting away. Every now and then I'd look up to see if Marti had entered, but once I realized she hadn't I'd get back to work. Someone had managed to cut at least two sets of wires in half somehow. Great.
I glanced up again and saw Marti walk in with a few of her friends. I waved at her, but she rolled her eyes and pretended I wasn't there. This was her way of telling me that she was still mad at me for not wanting to go to the same college she did. From the start she knew I had no desire to go to college; I had always wanted to just play music.
I huffed and turned around, focusing on the PA system. I'd let her vent to her friends about how terrible her boyfriend was. I was at the point where I wasn't sure if I wanted to make "us" work anymore.
Something about working with my hands always puts me at ease. I can empty my mind of needless things and focus on the task at hand. I can get lost and it takes a lot to break my concentration. That's why I was surprised that a laugh brought me back to the here and now. It was loud, yes, but it was full of something I hadn't heard in a while.
Turning to see where the source was coming from, my eyes focused on a girl with raven hair and eyes that looked like liquid gold. She suddenly went from laughing to choking. Her friend, a blonde boy I recognized from school, patted her on the back while her face reddened with embarrassment. She coughed a bit more, but dodged other efforts of help.
Her honey brown eyes locked with mine and I couldn't help but smile. It caused a tingle of recognition to race up my spine, creating a warmth that settled on my cheeks. I had seen that face somewhere before. I couldn't have though because I would have recalled such beauty.
I flinched as the thought circled my mind. Despite the problems that Marti and I were having, we were still together. It was wrong of me to think about another girl the way I was thinking about her. I wanted to know her. It took great effort not to stop what I was doing and walk over to her.
She didn't seem to want to break eye contact with me just as much as I didn't. We shared something in that moment, but I'm not sure what exactly it was. Her attention was diverted elsewhere and her spell over me was broken. Feeling lightheaded, I turned around and went back to work.
There was a light tap on my shoulder, a touch that sent electricity through my body. I spun around so fast I nearly toppled over. She stood in front of me, her dark hair flowing in an unseen breeze. Those golden eyes stared a hole straight through me.
"Hi," I said, my mouth suddenly dry. "Can I help you with something?"
"Liam," she smiled at me.
"Uh, yeah," I was nervous. "Do I know you?"
"Yes, we know each other very well," she reached up, placing a hand on my cheek.
My face flushed at the intimate gesture. Who was this girl? She had to be mentally unstable to walk up to a complete stranger and claim to know them the way she believed she knew me. Still, I was so transfixed by the touch of her skin on mine that I didn't dare move.
"Who are you?" I wondered, my breathing shallow.
"I'm going to wake you up," she cupped the other side of my face with her other hand.
"Wake me up?" I felt as if those words meant something I could never understand.
"Nice try," I heard a voice echo in my head.
A sudden pain shot through my body that had nothing to do with the girl. I was blinded with the pain and without being able to stop myself I fell to the floor. My head hit the wooden stage surface, only intensifying the discomfort.
"No use traveling down memory lane, dear boy," that same voice said, shattering my eardrums. "You belong to us now."
"Who are you? What do you want?" I screamed, covering my ears with my hands.
"Only your complete submission," he said to me. "If you do that, I can make the pain stop. Not just the physical pain, Liam, but the pain that plagues your soul. That pain that has stopped you from being who you truly are."
The pain stopped, the darkness gone. I found myself standing on a very familiar cliff, looking down into a very familiar ocean. The place haunted so many of my nightmares.
What was that out in the water? It couldn't be! This happened 12 years ago! That wasn't my brother out in those violent waves. Yet, I couldn't deny it. There he was, struggling to stay above the water, but being dragged back under. Without a moment's hesitation I jumped in. The cold water seeping quickly in, chilling my bones. I fought against the current, searching for Mikey. I couldn't see anything underneath that dark ocean. I surfaced, looking for him above the tossing current, hoping against hope that I would be able to save him this time.
That is when I saw her. The raven-haired girl who thought she knew me. She was calling out Mikey's name. I started to swim over to her, so we could search together.
"It's her fault," the voice said to me.
"What? Mikey fell," I thought as I swam. "It isn't anyone's fault."
"True, he did fall, but it is her fault you can't forget," he told me, his voice like razors on my skin. "She makes you feel like you haven't felt before. She brings out all of the emotions in you that you want to forget. Remember, Liam? Don't you remember who she is? All she has ever done is open old wounds and hurt you. Remember her."
An onslaught of memories crushed into my mind with enough weight to push me under. I managed to stay afloat despite feeling like I just picked up something heavy. I saw her, I remembered her. I recalled mountains of pain that she had put me through. She had loved me then pushed me away.
Deep down in the center of my soul I knew she loved me and that I loved her, but there was pain there I didn't have a name for. I was frightened that even though she loved me it wouldn't be enough. She would always find a way to hurt me in order to save me. I was tired of her trying to save me.
I was tired of feeling guilty over not being able to save Mikey, for feeling like he should have lived and I should have died.
"The pain is too much to bear, isn't?" the voice said in my head.
"I know who you are," I said, suddenly finding myself on the rocky beach. "You're her Shadow."
"Then you know what power I have," he whispered to me. "I can make the pain go away."
"Liar," I hissed at him, struggling to stand up. "You're the one who started all this."
"Oh it goes back much farther than Rayna, human," his voice was filled with rage.
"It doesn't matter what you say to me," I shouted out to someone who wouldn't show himself. "I know what you want from me and you can't have it."
"And what do I want from you?" he snickered.
"You want to use me against her and I won't let you do that," I firmly stated.
"You're full of surprises, Liam," he said materializing in front of me.
His form was exactly as she said it was, full of wisps of smoke that choked me on fumes of sweets and honey. Without giving me a chance he engulfed me with his form, suffocating me in darkness.
"You will do as I wish, boy," he screamed, his words silent, but forceful. "You're going to give me your soul or I'll take hers."
"If you could take hers then you would've done it already," I spit back at him. "You're not getting anything from me."
"Here's the thing, Liam," he chuckled as if he just told a good joke. "You aren't protected because you lack faith. I don't have to ask for your permission."
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Chapter 5
Rayna
