I had a strange dream. I remember in the dream I saw my friend try to touch the girl I loved inappropriately. The amount of anger I felt in the dream did not feel like my own.
Actually, the body in the dream was not mine. I was not sure if I was even dreaming.
I ripped away the girl and the guy, telling him threateningly that I'll rip off his hands from his body if he ever tries to touch her or any other girl without their permission. I remember my weight on her body and how she arched her back against it. How I wished I could touch her again.
I was not sure whose these thoughts were because this dream did not feel like it was mine; it felt like someone else's memories and feelings.
Waking up in my own bed was weird, to say the least. The last thing I remembered was passing out in the woods. Pretty dramatic step. I should not have gone in there unprepared. I did not know anything about how the vision worked.
My grandma was the expert, not me. I missed her so goddamn much, and I knew she would have done hell better at this.
I moved to the ground, swinging on my feet. I was not ready for this headspin. What happened?
I don't even remember coming back home. All I remember is those woods and someone holding me to his warm chest. The sound of his warm pulse soothing every ache in my body.
My sore throat inched. Climbing down the stairs, they then stopped at the sound of voices arguing. "She's far too tired for you to talk to her." The voice of Harry, my best friend, started scolding, "Stay away from her; she doesn't need your jock-roofie drugs in her soup!"
"She doesn't have to drink it, and there are no drugs in it," his voice was calm against my scalding skin. It was Duncan.
Duncan was in my house trying to put that thought inside my head in any kind of shape or form, but it did not make sense. Surely I'm hallucinating because that is no scenario I can conjure up where Duncan Tomson is in my house.
"Harry?" I asked. She ran up to me, tackling me in a bear hug. I melted into her as if it were the safest place in the world.
Duncan was behind her holding a pot of chicken soup, which smelled amazing. He was strong and firm, but I couldn't help but notice a slump of relief in his frame when he scanned me from head to toe. He raised an eyebrow, though. "Harry, isn't it a boy's name?"
Harry swung at him with the remark, "For you it's Henrietta. Now you can get out because this is a friend reunion."
"Luckily for you, I am a friend." He gestured to the pot. She just glared at him, and I had the feeling that she was going to do one of her famous takedowns.
I put myself between them. "Hey, he means well."
A frown, not on understanding why I'm defending him, appeared between Harry's brows.
I turned towards Duncan. "Why are you here?"
He swayed on his feet, looking eerily uncomfortable now. "I was the one who brought you home in the first place, so I just wanted to check in with you and talk to you about what happened."
Then I remembered exactly why he might be here. My eyes went wild. Fuck.
He must have thought I was a complete psycho after what happened. He didn't see the ghosts and what I was running from. All he saw was that I was screaming at the top of my lungs and then passing out in the middle of the woods.
Fuck, I was screwed.
I opened my mouth to explain, but Harry did it for me now that the search party for that shitbag is finally over. You don't need to keep company with us." She put her hands on her hips and challenged, but all I could focus on was the fact that the search party is now over.
This means no one is looking for his body. No one is going to find him. That means it's very bad for me because I'll be stuck with his spirit for the rest of my life.
He confirmed with a sharp nod, tense in his jaw grinding. "It's really over," no asked, I didn't not really expecting an answer. "Yeah, you passed out. The storm took out the rest of the woods. Now it's in shambles."
"The storm?" The question got out of my lips before I could trample it down.
Harry clung to my hand. "You don't remember?"
The look of concern passed between Harry and Duncan, looking at me. I hung my head up, trying to think. Duncan continued, "I don't know how you knew, but the storm was so strong that Mr. Warner didn't get out."
His voice trembled at that, and I couldn't help but to offer my hand on his shoulder as support. "He stayed back trying to get to shelter, but …"
He didn't need to finish the sentence. Harry eyes now Droopy from unshad tears. "The funeral was yesterday. You slept for a whole day."
I nodded, trying to bite back the sob growing in my throat. I'll cry later. Duncan looked at me with so much awe and questions which I cannot answer to any of them.
I took the pot from his hands with an unsteady grip. Apparently still dazed, I tripped. He gripped my shoulders, studying me, and pressed me to his chest. Its warmth was overwhelming. "Let me help you," he whispered.
He grabbed the pot, putting it on the stove in the kitchen and turning on the heat to warm it back up. I never had chicken soup when I was sick; my parents were always too busy to make it. It smelled delicious.
"You can go now." I pointed towards the door. Harry looked overshocked with glee, at that remark.
He pouted, desperation hanging from him, but it's not like I could offer him anything.
"Please let me do this for you." Clearly something shook him because there was more than a question or plea hanging in that sentence.
And what's happening to me that I'm actually considering this?
"Listen, Duncan. I don't know what you think happened in the woods, and I'm really sorry that Mr. Warner is dead. But I can't help you about Jacks anymore, okay?"
He straightened his spine. I added, "I'm so sorry that they shut down the search party."
He looked back at Harry, who was still crossing her arms, glaring at him. He opened his mouth as if saying something, then closed it. "All right then," I declared. "You should go now." I turned towards the kitchen, but he caught my hand, swinging me towards him.
Just know that you can tell me anything and feel better. He squeezed my hand; it's real nice and warm and gave me a weird feeling in my chest. Okay, I confirmed.
He added before he swung the door shut behind him, "Add garlic oil in half an hour."
Harry and I worked in the kitchen making mustard sandwiches for ourselves while the soup was getting nice and warm. "When do your parents get home?"
We were not addressing the dude that came here. I knitted my brows before answering, "Probably in two days when their flight will touch down."
"You're really not going to tell them about what happened?" Harry brooded over her sandwich plate. Which I made her take because she never eats with a plate. Savage.
I shrugged, "Why bother? It doesn't matter."
Her frown deepens. "You could have died. That's a pretty big deal."
I smirked, "feeling pretty alive, and it wasn't that bad."
Even when I said the words, I knew that inside my chest lived a whole nest of worries. What would Jacks think about the whole thing?
I was pretty surprised that he didn't show up already. He usually did that in the middle of conversations at inconvenient times. Just talking over people then pretending that no one else existed besides him, which is pretty inconvenient since no one could see him. Such an attention whore sometimes.
Harry was now looking at me in such a way to make me uncomfortable. Like, she didn't like the thought of me saying shit like that, but she knew.
She knew that my situation with my parents was different. Mom was a nosy person, always up in my business whenever she could, never able to go into a conversation without bringing up a nasty remark about my personality, my looks, my mental status, or whatever she could fathom.
Dad and I had an understanding. I couldn't turn to him because he loved Mom to pieces, always showering her with gifts and his love. But he also never turned against me.
I took a bite from my sandwich, suddenly finding the taste of it sour. I sigh. "Should we be talking about what you said to Duncan before I went down?"
She stiffens at that. "Good way to steer the conversation away, Rach."
"Promise to never do it if you told me the truth right now." I did an X against my heart to show my promise was solid. It was something we did since kindergarten, making an unbreakable promise.
She putting down her plate, settling herself from the counter where both sitting. She turned to look at me. Duncan is trouble. You think he would talk to you unless…?"
I didn't let her finish the sentence because anger reared up in me. "Because I'm such a loser nerd that no one would come see me even if I almost died?"
"So you do admit that you almost died."
She clapped her hands, and if she won some great game, I glared at her and, making her stop, swung my hips to the ground, bumping her shoulder to get to the counter and putting in some of the soup into a bowl of my own. "You can go now if you feel like judging.
Harry gulped down. "We all heard at school what happened to you guys. He carried you to the hospital and didn't agree to leave your side. Believe me, all girls are now jealous of you, so don't say something like you being a loser."
I turned down the stove humming at the thought. I didn't want to answer that statement. Not only did he take me to the hospital after seeing his teacher die. He stayed with me? That is...confronting in many ways that I'm not comfortable with right now.
She tensed. "I was really worried about you." I saw the honesty of that, so I gave her a firm hug, whispering, "I'm here. Don't worry."