I obey Avet. I can’t trust him to remember what we went into a store to buy, but I can trust him with my life. My throat constricts while Avet tips the thermos to my lips. I need to sleep, but I can’t keep going like this, haunted in my dreams.
When Avet decides I’ve had enough of the potion, he gets down on his knees and helps me take off my boots. I both love and hate that he knows how to help me. I don’t want to need help of any kind, but if I have to be annoyingly weak in front of anyone, I prefer it be Avet.
When I lie down on the bed, the room spins for a solid six seconds before my vision slows and settles on the ceiling. “I don’t want to bring another person in,” I mumble, but part of me knows Avet will do what he thinks is best, regardless of whether or not it actually is.
“Get some sleep, bunny rabbit.”
“I will punch you.” I hate it when he uses that cutesy nickname for me, and he knows it. “Eat your dinner. You know how you are when you get too focused on the mission. You forget everything else.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Avet grabs up his burger and takes a meaty bite. He chews with gusto to satisfy the part of me that won’t fully rest if he is not looked after.
I had a hard time when we split off three years ago. I knew if I wasn’t there, Avet wouldn’t eat regularly. He wouldn’t take care of himself. He would jump into bad situations headfirst without thinking. I was the thing that held him back from danger.
And then I became the thing that held him back in general.
Maybe that’s what I’m doing now, insisting he doesn’t let a third person in on Cher’s situation.
I don’t know. I can’t think in a straight line. The room tilts again, so I close my eyes.
I don’t realize Avet’s focus is on me until he speaks. “You’ve been suffering through those prophetic dreams without my draught for three years, Keran. After we find Cher and you go back to what you call a life, I’ll make sure to stop by regularly and brew some of the dreamless sleep potion so you can rest. I didn’t realize. Or maybe I didn’t think it through. You’ve been tortured in your mind for years, and I just let it happen.”
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what? Tell the truth?”
“Don’t put my damage on your shoulders. We help each other out when we can. You couldn’t because we lived apart. I’m just happy to be safe now.”
I didn’t mean for the word “safe” to slip out, but that’s exactly what I feel, now that Avet is here to make sure I can one day become a whole person.
“You are safe,” Avet promises, his voice hoarse. “I’ll make sure of it.”
My chest aches as my body begins to shut down, taking charge so it can do what it needs to, ensuring I don’t have a heart attack.
Avet covers me with the scratchy brown motel comforter, turning off all the lights except one small lamp so he can go over his sister’s diary while I sleep.
I’m safe now. I’m safe.
But for how long?
10
BREAKFAST AND A BEAUTY
I wake up naturally and without jolting to life, as I usually do when I have to jerk myself out of a nightmare. Nothing came to me in my sleep. Nothing woke me or startled me. I didn’t have any premonitions that made my stomach tighten.
I actually slept.
Everything feels different. I can hear background sounds. There’s a bird singing outside. Not chirping, but singing, I’m sure of it. My muscles don’t ache as if I am a ninety-year-old man. When I blink the room into focus, there isn’t a hazy blur around the edges of my vision.
“Avet?” I call, turning my head to the side and finding an empty bed. I sit up, stretching and cracking my neck as I take in the room that somehow has brighter colors and crisper details than it did yesterday.
I take my time getting showered and even put in the effort of shaving, which I haven’t done in weeks. When I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I cannot believe how old I look. I’ve aged what feels like a decade in a mere three years. Yet this is the first time I am seeing the gravity of the situation I’ve been pushing aside, writing peace off as futile.
My nose isn’t as long as Avet’s. My black hair will never be as styled. My scars will never fade, especially the one across my left cheek that feels like it must be visible from space.
All the other marks on my body are from monsters. That one on my left cheek is a gift from my birth father. It was his speedy way of informing Child Services that he wasn’t ready to be a father when I was dropped on his doorstep twelve years after I was born.
I might look old and worn, but for once there is a lightness to my lavender eyes. They look bright instead of a dull variant of gray.