The Winged Rebellion

Chapter 11: What was That?

Sebastian

Androm-Andy walks away, her steps quick, in the direction of the party. I watch her until she turns the corner, and then I head back to the common room. I find Leo and Topher passed out in Topher's bed, the lights on and the door wide open. I tiptoe in, quietly covering them up, taking their shoes off, turning them on their sides, and turn the lights off. I close the door, and walk over to my room, the worn copy of Emma still open on my bed. It seems unbelievable that only 5 hours have passed since I walked into this room for the first time. I undress, wincing at the bruises from this morning that cover my side. Slipping into pyjamas I turn the lamp on, and grab the book, flipping it open to where I left off. I read for half an hour, before slipping into what I hoped would be a dreamless sleep.

It wasn't. I open my eyes to a vast blue sky, the wind whistling, and a sail swinging steadily above my head. It feels like a scene of tranquility, but I know a horrible thing has happened here. Like always, I hear a scream in the water near me. A little boy, almost identical to my youngest brother, is drowning, an arms distance away from my sailboat. I could jump out and save him - trade my life for his - and put him in the boat. Or I could do nothing, and live. Just as I try to save him, he moves further out. I cry out to him, telling him to come closer, but it's too late, I took too long to decide. He drowns, crying out for his mother, as his head goes underwater. Again.

I wake up sweating. Andy sits on my bed, leaning over me, and her breath still smells like alcohol, but there's concern in her eyes, and I realise she must have shook me awake.

"What was that," she asks quietly, less of a question than a statement. She seems to be playing sober, but by her breath and her pupils I can tell she's drunk as a skunk.

"A nightmare," I answer, my voice matching hers. Her eyes follow me, as I quickly pray, as I do after every nightmare. Her eyes ask a silent question, and I answer, "I'm a christian, if you were wondering,"

"I was," she replies. I'm still shocked at how honest she is when drunk, even when trying to hide it.

"So god, hell, heaven, angels, demons, all that jazz, I just don't get it, ya know?" she says, and I blink both sleep and confusion out of my eyes. I wasn't expecting her to continue this line of conversation.

"Not really. I've been a christian since birth," I reply, keeping my tone light, trying to gauge her emotional state. Having a conversation about gods with a drunk Andy wasn't on my to-do list for the night, and I have no clue how it'll end.

"I've been an atheist since I was nine. That's when my mom tossed me out because I showed my powers. I almost died, and the whole time I was thinking 'how could god let this happen to me?' and then it hit me, no god, no kind, all-knowing, fatherly, god could do this to a person. So I decided there was none. No magical miracle machine in the clouds to save me. I would need to save myself," she says, her voice becoming clearer and stronger.

"I went the opposite way," I say hesitantly, "when my family died, I told myself it was ok, and that god would protect me, that he wanted this to happen because it would help me later. I turned my fear to faith, and it's the only thing that keeps me going some days, that everything has a purpose, and god will protect me. Especially if there is a magical miracle machine in the clouds."

She goes quiet, contemplating what I've said.

"Thank you," she says quietly, suddenly moving towards me and grabbing me, pulling me to her and wrapping her arms around my chest, her head resting on my shoulder. I tense, surprised for a moment, then I hug her back. This is the second time she's hugged me tonight, and I hope this hug doesn't end the same way the other one did.

Her breathing slows, and I realise she's asleep. I slowly unwrap her hands, and move her into a sleeping position on my bed.

Just as I'm about to stand up, and sleep on the floor, her arm shoots out, grabbing my wrist and pulling me back.

"Stay," she murmurs.

"I'm not going anywhere," I promise and add, "I'm just on the floor."

"Its your bed."

"And you're drunk, I'm not going to take advantage of you," I say my voice final.

"Ok. Drink your respect women juice. I'm just saying, there's enough room for both of us to sleep comfortably," she says, "now either be uncomfortable or come onto the bed, not my problem. I'm going to sleep." She rolls over, leaving more than enough room for me to climb in beside her.

"Fine.

Okay so this chapter got dark fast. Apologies for that. But I added a cute cat picture to make up for it!!!
So how do we feel about this?
Get some rest, I love y'all.
-Alexandra Waterwings