The Lost Souls

Something Beautiful Awaits

Stop shouting! 

Stop it! 

Leave me alone! 

Get me out of here! 

Faint light in spluttering gaps through cracked windows make my eyes flutter, the whispers fade in echoes till I can'™t remember they were even there. A stale, burnt smell makes my nose wrinkle and I suddenly remember I'm lying on a dusty couch covered in ashy marks and old cigarette burns. Now I don't want to wake up, not on this ugly couch. I want to wake up in my worn but comfy bed which smells like lavender and me. I want to wake up with a blanket suffocating me, hiding me from the dark and what comes with it. I'll take a shower when I get home to get rid of the smell and the feeling of something crawling under my skin.

Something nears my hand, something soft to touch and white like puffs of snow slips away before I can be sure I was seeing and feeling correctly. I sit up, my head resting on my knee, a tartan blanket of too much colour for Sin, falls off my legs and lands in a puddle on the floor. I pick it up, folding it carefully into a square, until I look over at Liam, wondering if the blanket would suit him better. He sleeps like a dead man and I wonder what time he fell asleep last night, probably long after I did. I chew my bottom lip, what should I do? If I was cold, he must be cold. He took care of me; he saved me from the darkness and that thing. Whatever it was, I shudder. I shut it out from my brain, the image of it disappearing the more I look at him. 

Before I can change my mind, I unfold the blanket, its tassels swinging in the air. He lies on his side, his arm acting as a pillow, breathing evenly and peacefully. I hope I don't disturb him. With nervous fingers and a blush creeping up my cheeks, I drape it over his body. Not a sound, the dog snores away too, in a makeshift bed. He really cares about it; I wish I didn't fear it. 

I tiptoe around the house, curiosity hitting me fast in the gut when I find myself at the foot of the only staircase. I want to see how real my dream was. If it was all too real, could it go beyond the dream? I look over to him, sound asleep and the dog too. What would he do if he found me up there? It's not like it's his house, it's as much his house as it is mine. He'd have no right to be annoyed about it. 

The steps creak under me so I learn quickly to not put my weight on it and go up fast. No frames decorate the walls; it really is an empty shell. Where did these people end up? I grimace at the worst case scenarios in my head. I hope their ending was fair. 

It's dark, encased in shadows even with the colour of day painting the walls. I walk slowly, carefully, checking for loose floorboards. The wall is scaly and peeling with paint in some areas. A gaping hole, appearing as if it was punched in on the other end, a possible aftermath of violence. If I wasn't so curious, if he wasn't downstairs, I'd be scared right now, something about him settles me, I'm suddenly not so alone. I cross my arms around myself, rubbing the skin of my arm to warm it. It's similar to my dream so far, it builds my curiosity to a peak and I walk along faster. 

The crunch of glass is under my feet, except most of it has been kicked into a pile in the corner as tidy as it could be. At least it'll stop me from making too much noise. And at least I'm wearing shoes. It's not entirely similar, there's no mist, it's not night-time, and I'm not bleeding. 

I reach the room with the lonely curtain rod, except I observe what I didn't see before. My face is met with cold air, the barrier of glass too non-existent to soften the blow of it. The colour of the sky is muggy, in between cloudy and too cloudy for it to not rain. Trees rustle in a breeze which approaches me, it gets under my sweater and I shiver. 

The room around me is simple, a bed frame with panels of wood split in half down the middle. A spring pokes out of the corner of the mattress which sinks and droops to the floor. Sheets cover it messily, probably once white but now a faded yellow. One single pillow which looks more like a slab and another tartan blanket in a deep red with streaks of green covers one half of the bed. I frown, it can't be comfortable to sleep like that at night, and I wonder if he misses home. I start to feel like I have invaded his privacy, it seems so him in one way and not him at all in another. I wonder if I should still be here, in what is his room now, would I let him in mine? Never.