Both endearments feel like he’s mocking me because I don’t want to be anything to him.
“You don’t know me.”
“I know you were trying to get in here to find something.” The lightheartedness fades from his expression and it’s like he slips on the evil mask again. “Now, enough talk about Gytha and your lame attempts to change the subject. Tell me what you were looking for.”
Damn it.We’re back to that again, and I never got to really bitch at him about the doctor. The whole Gytha thing didn’t bother me nearly as much as the doctor did.
Now what should I say?
What excuse can I find for breaking in?
I think for a moment while he stares at me for what feels like eons.
Maybe the truth is the only option. All I’m asking about is a crest.
“When Ehlga was showing me around, I saw a crest on the cliff. It’s also in the house. She told me it belonged to the family who used to live here.” I try to keep my voice steady but it doesn’t help that his face hardens.
“That’s correct. What about it?”
“I’ve seen it before. When I was little.”
His gaze intensifies. “Where?”
“I don’t know. I’m… missing memories.” I don’t know if he knows that part of my background so I decide to give him some context. “I had an accident when I was nine that left me with permanent memory loss. I can’t remember anything before that.”
“Nothing at all?”
“No.”
“Then how do you know you saw the crest when you were little?”
“I see it in my nightmares now.”I’m surprised by how easily I said that to someone I don’t know.
“Nightmares?” He looks at me with disbelief.
“Yes. It’s a recurring nightmare I’ve had since my accident. Until I came here I didn’t think anything from it was real but then I saw the crest.”
“Is the cliff or the house in your dreams?”
“No. I was somewhere else. The crest was carved into something dark. I’ve always thought it could be a door, but I don’t know.”
“What else is in this nightmare?”
Although he’s asking questions, he doesn’t look like he believes me. I’m sure he won’t and will just think I’m crazy the moment I tell him about the rest of the dream.
“Well?” His brows lift impatiently.
“It starts with me standing by a wall singing some kind of a nursery rhyme. Then I’m running through a meadow and everything gets dark, like when night comes down. And… ” My voice trails off. This is the hard part.
“And what?”
I stifle a groan. “Monsters that look like shadows come out of the dark.”
He chuckles, just like I thought he would. “Monsters?”
“I know it sounds crazy.”
“It’s fine to dream about monsters, believing they’re real is another story.”