Lies Beneath The Truth

Chapter 9: Dream or Reality

"Hey, wake up!" called an unfamiliar voice. Her eyes snapped opened and focused vaguely on the person covering her mouth with his hand. She sat up and beats of sweat rolled down her forehead. He held her trembling shoulder as if to still her erratic breathing.

"Lysander?"

He looked questioningly at her. "Snapped out of it already, I'm Andrew."

"Oh," was all she whispered, her tone barely audible. There was a silence as she took in her surroundings. All of a sudden, tears abruptly streamed down her cheeks.

"H-hey..." the unsure Andrew stuttered at her sudden action.

"Get out!" she screamed. She wanted nothing more than to be alone right now. Both the reality and her dream – no, specifically a nightmare – came crushing down to her. Another frantic tear flowed down her cheeks. "Get out!"

Andrew left the attic, but not before voicing out his purpose hesitantly. "Shouting...your shouting...is disturbing the customers...so please calm down and cool yourself." Laura nodded apologetically. He understood. He stood up and was about to climb down the ladder when he added quietly, "Call me if you need anything."

Only when she heard the attic's door closed did she broke down completely. Damn nightmare, she cursed, triggering unwanted memories! It had yield light on her childhood's incident, which she had become skilled at hiding. Her nightmare had triggered the box to burst opened. She could no longer repress the flood of sob.

"Oh Lysander..." She had dream of her childhood's kidnapper and Lysander. In her dream, his wild black hair was kempt back and he was wearing a dark coat. He was walking around in a dark chamber dimly lighted with the moon rays penetrating the window. Both hands were behind his back, with a sturdy rope held firmly in one hand. He was not alone. In the middle of the compartment, sitting on a chair with arms and legs tightly tied, was Lysander. His head was lolled back unnaturally.

All of a sudden, with more force than necessary, the man hit Lysander with the rope. His head snapped up at the sharp pain and a hollow yell resonated throughout the compartment. A ball of white vapour encircled above his mouth. The shouting echoed in the chamber and in her mind, again and again. Even if it was a dream, his desperate cry pierced her heart like a hundred sharp knives. "Well?"

Lysander glared up at the man but his lip was sealed. His tangled dark hair fell on one of his eyes, blocking some of the view, but he continued to give daggers at him. If looked could kill, the man would have been long dead.

"Answer me!" The man roared.

Laura flinched but Lysander did not even blink. Instead, he spat back in a tone she had never heard him used before. The intensity of venom and disgust in his voice spoke more than his words. "I would rather die than to do what you asked."

The man laughed then, sending shiver to Laura's heart. "Why should I kill such a value?" He then bent down and whispered into Lysander's ears, "Trust me, your grace, you're eventually going to do exactly what I wish. Sooner or later, you'll realize that this is for your own good. You've no other option."

With that, another wiped sounded throughout the chamber. Then another – it was so strong this time, Lysander was knocked down along with the chair. He instinctively curled up and bit his lips to prevent another shout. However he bit it so hard, it pierce through the skin and a single line of blood trickled down his chin. At the same time, the effect of the beating was paid off and gore suddenly splattered from his back. It strained his shirt crimson and coloured the marble-floor simultaneously. His expression was that of an agony as he knitted his eyebrows into a furrow.