Blood Story. - Continued.

Chapter 1



I couldn’t escape the dark figure that ran after me.  Could I even call it running?  It glided silently, as if it was nothing more than my shadow but the fear that etched its way through every vein in my body told me otherwise.  The long hall in which it chased me never ended.  I couldn’t see where it stopped and I didn’t dare turn around to see how far I’d already run from where it started.  My breathing was getting raspy, the airless coughs started burning the back of my throat.  How much longer could I run for?  Then, just as I was about to stop and give up I heard that damned word that brought only misfortune.  Blood.  I stopped instantly and whirled around, it was then that I finally noticed those beautiful red eyes.

I woke to the sound of several human voices speaking just quiet enough that I couldn’t make out any of the words.  I gave up trying to strain my ears to hear what those voices were saying and instead I sifted through the dream I just awoken from.  It was the first time I actually remembered more than just the one word but this time the word wasn’t gruesome; instead it made me - thirsty?  I didn’t know what was going on, but the back of my throat burned as if I had actually just been running away from that dark mysterious man with the scarlet blood eyes.

A door than slammed in the distance and rapid footsteps continued to get louder and closer and - after only a couple of seconds - a young beautifully tanned man walked up to the bed I had been laying on and stared at the monitors that I hadn’t noticed till now.  I must have been hooked up to the machine because an annoying beeping started up as my heart began to race.  Why did his face seem so familiar yet completely new at the same time?  Something was missing, but what?

“Hello Deanna.  Welcome to the Cross Section Hospital.  I’m glad to see that you’ve finally graced us with your conscious presence.  I’m Dr. Dion J. Mathews but you can just call me D.J..  How do you feel?”  His voice was soft and comforting, I couldn’t do anything but stare up into those deep brown eyes.  The shape of his eyes reminded me of another.  It felt like I had stared into them before.  But how?  I have never before met this strange man that now stood in front of me. 

Minutes pasted and I still didn’t respond.  The doctors eyebrows sank lower on his face giving him a look of confusion.  “Deanna are you alright?”  The concern in his voice was overwhelming but I still couldn’t utter a word.

“Oh she’s just in shock D.J.  Give her some room to breathe; she only just woke up after being a sleep for many moons.”  said another very soft voice, though this one wasn’t as comforting.  What did he mean by “many moons?”  How long have I been sleeping?

“Oh yes of course I always forget how disorienting it is to wake up after being asleep for so many days no matter how many people I’ve helped through it.” replied D.J.  The sound of concern still echoed in his voice but was masked with something - was it guilt?  What could he have done to me to mask his dazzling voice with guilt?

Even with all my strength I still couldn’t speak.  What was wrong with me?  I just wanted the answers to the questions I was unable to ask. so although I was completely aware of the two men staring at me I closed my eyes to think.  I needed time to find my voice, to remember what happened, and to concentrate on where I’ve seen this doctor before.  The familiar vibe about him was odd.  His voice and skin color - it’s all different.  But those eyes; the shape not the color, makes him so very familiar.

         It was some time before I finally decided to reopen my eyes.  At first fear struck me because I was alone, but it was only seconds later when the doctor returned: he must have heard the out of control beeping coming from the heart monitor.  He placed himself in a chair that now stood right beside the bed.  All he did was sit there - probably waiting for me to start speaking though I still couldn’t find my voice - and stared directly into my sea blue eyes.  Again his eyes gave a familiar gesture about him but instead of being reassuring it planted fear deep down into my very core.  He must have noticed the way my eyes glazed over - as they always did when ever I was truly frightened - because he stood up and walked out of the room but just before the door closed completely I saw him take out a very small red cell phone from a hidden pocket in his jacket.  Who was he calling?  I didn’t waste to much thought on that mysterious doctor.  Instead I focused on the room around me.  Aside from the bed I was laying on and the heart monitor slightly to the right of me, the room was quite empty - a bookshelf with only several books on it, a desk with a few drawn on pieces of paper, a old wooden coffee table, and a window; though that was covered by black cloth.  Where was I?  In a hospital I’m sure; though it wasn’t like any hospital I have ever been to before nor did the name ring a bell.  The confusion and disorientation made me very tired even though the second man had mentioned I’d been sleeping for many days already.  I let my eye lids fall closed and drifted slowly into unconsciousness.  The last thing I heard before I was fully under was the soft pitter-patter of rain high above where I lay.

         

         It could have been minutes or possibly even days before I woke again.  The room around me was quiet and it seemed that nothing had moved or changed - even the sound of rain could still be heard.  For the first time since I came to this place I was no longer attached to the heart monitor so I got up - feeling stiff - and made my way over to the desk with those drawn on pieces of paper.  To my surprise the drawing were of dead people; hadn’t I drawn these?  Why are they here?  For several minutes I stood over them dumbstruck.  How could I not see it before?  I could only be in one place and these pictures proved it.  I was in a mental hospital.  My parents must have sent me here because of the dream I’d been having my whole life, the pictures I had been drawing, and the simple fact that I hadn’t made any friends since I moved to that house 10 years ago.  My whole body started shaking and I feel to my knees while tears burst from my eyes.  Almost as if the doctor had been standing in the room this whole time, his arms were around my shoulders and he was pulling me to my feet.  The doctor in fact was the last person I wanted to see at this moment and because of that I started crying hysterically.  He sat there with his arms over my shoulders in silence for what seemed like hours while I cried myself dry.  After I was silent for ten minutes straight did the doctor decide to unlock his hold on my shoulders and turned to face me.  I then noticed the slight change in the color of his eyes.  The deep brown was replaced by a soft hazel.  What was going on?

         “Are you alright Deanna?  What ever was it that upset you?” spoke the doctor, finally breaking the silence.

         I swallowed - very loudly actually - and tried again to speak.  The words flowed out of my mouth like rushing water.  Everything I had been unable to ask blurted out without any way for me to stop it.  I had finally found my voice.

         “What’s going on here?  What did that other man mean when he said I had been sleeping for many moon? What have you done to me to make your voice layered with such guilt? And your eyes; the color changed, how?  And why?  Where am I?  I’m in a mental hospital aren’t I?  I wish to speak to my parents right away.  Why have I not seen th..”

         “Slow down.  Your not in a mental hospital.  If you’ll take a deep breath and let me talk I’ll explain everything.  Deal?” he interrupted.

         I didn’t move.  I was finally getting the answers I’d been waiting for, but for a split second I feared that I didn’t want to know.  I stared up into his now hazel eyes.  They looked gentle, harmless, but still, his voice gave away so much more.  I waited till he realized that I wouldn’t speak again until I had my answers.  For once it looked like he was the one with the loss for words.  What could be happening?  Well I suppose I’d soon find out.

         The minutes ticked by; I was silent - pleading with my eyes for him to continue - but just as I was about to ask him to continue a strange smell reached my nose.  It smelled of everything I loved: rotten eggs, expired milk, and burnt fish.  It took me by surprise, overwhelming my senses.  I inhaled deeply; taking in as much of the smell as I could.  When it finally died down I noticed the doctor staring at me - eyes slightly squinted due to the huge smile that not rested upon his face.  Did this mean something?

         “I would like to start by telling you a little bit more about myself.  Is that alright?”  The smile still glued to his mouth like it had no intentions of ever fading.  All I could do was nod.  “First off, I’m not a real doctor.” continued D.J. Shock spread across my face.  Fear was again beginning to take over.

“Now don’t be afraid, I have no intentions of hurting you.  I know all about the - well I suppose you’d think it was a dream - you’ve been having your entire life.  That’s why I brought you to this facility.  You see; your special Deanna, you have a gift not many humans have.”

The disgust in his voice when he said the word humans was almost insulting.  What was he getting at?  How would he possibly know about the dream, especially the fact that I’ve been having it my whole life?

“H-how?  That’s impossible.” I stammered out, suddenly entirely afraid of the man that sat only inches away from me.

“Let me finish.  I do indeed know all about the “dream” you’ve been having, but that’s not everything.  I also know you loved the smell that was just released into this room.  I also enjoyed it.  Their three of my favorite smells in the whole universe. I also grew up without a friend in the world, as I’m sure is the same for you.”  It wasn’t a question, but a statement.  He already knew the answer.  But how?  He continued without seeing the questions lingering on my tongue.  “I lived in a fairly large town with sunshine over 90% of the time.  I hate light you see, so I placed black cloth over my window.  I would sit in my room for hours on end either doodling black circles of all sizes, drawing gruesome corpse’, or writing one word over and over again until I covered many pages with it.  Do you know the word I’m talking about?”

Of course I knew the word.  The simple word I’ve heard every night since I’d been able to comprehend dreaming.  It felt like he was telling me not about his life, but about mine.  Why did I have so much in common with this extremely odd man?  I didn’t understand anything more than I did before I asked my questions.  Instead I had a thousand more yelling inside my head but one question screamed louder than the rest.  “What does this all mean exactly?”

“Well actually, there are only one out of ever thousand humans who am similar - if not exactly the same - as you or I.  Do you remember anything more than just that same certain word when you wake up?”

“No, I’ve only once ever remembered more of the dream and that happened just before I woke up the first time in this facility.  But what does that have to do with anything?”

“It has everything to do with everything we’re doing here.  We brought you to this facility because your just as different as the rest of us.  I’d like to call us shifters if you will.  It starts out quite small.  The dream - and always the same dream - where you remember only one word until the Spring of your 17th year.  Once we’ve reached the 17th Spring of our lives the dream becomes more remember-able.”

“Wait.  The last morning I woke up in my own house it was the first day of spring.  But I’m only 16 yet I’ve experienced more of the dream.  I don’t understand.”  I was so lost.  How could I, of all people, be born with this - was it a gene? - that turned you into a shifter?  The man was crazy, there was no other option.  Does he actually expect me to believe him?  Whens the whole “just kidding, did you see your face?” remark?  It had to be coming soon.

D.J. now looked embarrassed, what had I said?  Embarrassment didn’t suit his features. “Haha umm actually your now 17.  Happy birthday?”  he nervously chuckled without looking at me. 

“What?  Are you trying to tell me I’ve been asleep for exactly a year?  But why? What have you been doing to me?”  I was yelling now, angry enough that I shoved the D.J. aside so hard I ended up throwing him across the room.  My body was shaking uncontrollably, it took me only half a second to be standing over D.J - teeth clenched - ready to strike.  I paused.  Turned quickly to the left and gasped so loudly that D.J. flinched beneath me.  My trembling hands reached my face and glided my finger tips over my cheeks, my jaw, and finally, my eyes.  I stood there spellbound.  I couldn’t move, my voice was suddenly out of reach.  I stood there staring at what could only be my reflection in a mirror I never took notice of till now.  What drew my attention away from gladly killing this dreadful man was not the surprise of what I wanted to do, but the corner of my eye that caught what reflected back from the mirror.  My skin, normally a peachy white was now blazing red.  As red as the eyes that looked back at me from my own face.  I hit the floor, heard the shocked inhale from D.J. and than blackness was everywhere.



Please be advised that this is a rough copy.

Intro is another post called "Blood Story"

This is the first chapter.  Thanks for reading , let me know what you think.  : )