Ava
Even with Peter next to me, I have a nightmare. It starts out as a nice dream. I'm walking in the woods, barefoot. As it goes in dreams, my feet feel nothing even though the ground is uneven and covered in rocks and sticks and such. I'm walking toward something bright-greenish that shines out of the trees. Actually, it's two somethings. I walk further, and, once again, it takes me forever.
I finally get to a clearing with grass so flat, I know it can't be real. Still, I want to know what's going on. Two fires, flickering in the darkness. Not like normal fires with smoke and wood. These are more like giant columns of light that flicker and burn. But the fires, or whatever they are, aren't burning wood. They're burning people.
The light dims and I can make out my mother's face, and then the rest of her. The other is Peter. They're glowing like fireflies, which is totally weird, but I go with it. They both smile at me at the exact same second.
“I love you,” they both say in unison. I hear each of their distinct voices before they are both consumed by a burst of light. And then darkness.
“Ava?” Peter shakes my shoulder. Somehow I've migrated in my sleep so I'm practically on top of him. I want him even in my sleep. I shift over to my side of the bed, trying to be subtle about it. Hell, I'd just seen him in my dream going up in weird greenish flames. Part of me wants to touch him all over and make sure he's all in one piece. But that's silly. It was just a dream.
“Sorry. Bad dream.” My room is dark, but I feel safe with Peter next to me, his thumb stuck in his book to mark the place. I notice he's nearly done. The book is about four inches thick. Stupid speed reader.
“Do you wish to talk about it?”
“Not really.” I put my hand over my eyes, wishing I could block it all out.
“It must have been frightening.” Thanks Peter, that's helpful.
“Just a dream.”
Just a dream, just a dream, just a dream. I'm going to keep saying it until I believe it.
“I could feel your distress.” Can't he see that I don't want to talk about it?
“What, I can't even dream now without you getting vibes?”
“I feel what you feel, asleep or awake.” In turn, I feel his anxiety for me. Peter's emotions are easy to separate from my own. They're distant and foreign. Like having an invader in my brain. It didn't bother me as much as it should. Nothing about Peter bothered me as much as it should.
“It's nothing. Just go back to reading.” I turn my back to him, and pull the covers up. He waits for a moment, for me to speak or change my mind. When I don't, he goes back to reading, the swish of the pages turning lulls me back into a much better sleep.
I'm not big on dream interpretation, being as how sometimes dreams are just dreams and not a manifestation of your secret love for your English teacher. Before I finally decide to close my eyes and try to sleep again, I vow to do some research. In the morning.
****
I think about the dream as I brush my teeth the next morning. It had been so clear, and I'd remembered every detail when I woken up. I usually didn't remember my dreams, so this was new. I wasn't sure if I liked it or not. I certainly hated the dream. It was probably just a manifestation of my fear of losing Peter and my mother. But I wanted to know for sure.
I hated that I'd broken down in front of him last night. Generally, I tried not to be too emotional and needy in front of Peter. I think it kind of freaked him out sometimes. When we'd first done the Claiming, he'd even had jitters. All that had calmed down, but I still tried to hold it back a bit.
Not so much.
I didn't regret the promise I'd forced him to make about finding a way out of the curse. I'd decided to call it that, because it was a Curse. With a capital C. Promises were things that you made in wedding vows and to your children and to best friends. They were supposed to be good. To make you better. This was a Curse.
I wasn't selfish enough to want Peter to break it just for me. I wanted him to be free, not chained to someone else.
Viktor was Cursed, too. He was forced to come whenever Di called. Which wasn't very often, but when she whistled, he came, like a dog. He was better than that. I didn't want them to be slaves to this woman who had made them out of her own selfish need not to be alone. I wouldn't make the same mistake.
Peter was unusually quiet, and that bothered me, but I wasn't getting any bad vibes from him, so I didn't say anything about it. Sometimes, Peter was just weird. I figured he was just thinking about who he could ask about breaking the curse. I hoped.
I had to say goodbye to him in my room before I went downstairs to grab something to eat. Since my mother had gotten worse, wasn't making pancakes every morning, and I spent most of my time in my room with Peter, I usually just grabbed a bowl of cereal or a protein bar.
“I'll see you after work, okay?” I give him the obligatory peck on the cheek, not letting my lips linger. “I know I made you promise to look for a solution, but you don't have to do it today.” I'm feeling guilty now about forcing him. It was a knee-jerk reaction to the dream, and I should have just calmed the heck down and thought about things.
“I will wait for you.” He's staring at his trunk. I automatically check to make sure the key is still firmly around my neck. It's become a nervous tick now.
“Do you ever get tired of waiting for me?”
“No.” He's so sure of things. So convinced that it will work out, or it won't. That it is black or it is white. I'm not like that.
I want to really kiss him goodbye, but don't. I'm still not convinced that being close with him won't kill him. I'm such a hypocrite, because I made him sit next to me while I slept all night. What harm would a little kiss do?
Well, Peter's kisses could do a lot of harm, I knew that already. They are Weapons of Mass Destruction. So I just looks at him without blinking for as long as I can. He touches my face and slides out the window. I feel the pull to go with him. It sucks so much that I can't. My poor neglected lips cry out as I drive myself to school, hoping today will be better. Better than the previous three.
****
Tex nearly runs me over, she's so eager to talk to me. It takes me a moment to focus. The smells almost swallow me up. It's like being in a huge bakery filled with the most delicious cookies and pies and cakes in the world, but you can't have any of them. Only blood doesn't smell like cake.
“Oh my god, where have you been? We need to talk date details. I need to know what Viktor's favorite color is so I can wear it.” Tex's blood smells sweet, like copper and salt and dark chocolate. Those don't sound like delicious things in combination, but somehow they are. My stomach grumbles, even though I just ate. This is a different kind of hunger. I rest my face on the brick of the main school building. The smell of the brick and the cool temperature helps me focus.