Mermaids and Vampires

21: Caught in Memories

~~~DYLAN~~~

The haunting thought that's been plaguing me ever since that night on the beach comes whizzing back like a boomerang the second I enter my room. My stomach turns over on it's self and I find myself in greater inner turmoil than before. It pains me to picture her doll-like face, but I can't rip my mind away from it. Every time I close my eyes I see her. Her radiant smile, her lit up eyes, the way her hair shimmers in the night. Her image haunts me.

I hold my face in both hands, pulling them down, hoping to wipe the regretful thoughts from my mind.

Why did she run away from me? What had I done? Why didn't I run after her? How could I let her slip away like that? What if I never saw her again?

I couldn't let that happen. She was the most perfect thing I'd ever come face to face with.

"Dylan?" My dad bursts through my door.

I look up, snap back into reality, and my heart begins to stutter. Did he notice the faint scratch on Lauren's cheek? Does he know we're hiding something? 

"Is it true you didn't make Lauren dinner?" He asks. 

I breathe a sigh of relief.

"Yeah, sorry. Must have forgot."

He mutters something about my needing to grow up and leaves the room, shutting the door firmly behind him.

That night I am unable to find sleep. My head spins and my insides burn with an unquenchable desire to find her. I stare up at the cracked ceiling above my bed, tracing the lines again and again with my eyes. I feel as if I am wasting time. Like every minute I'm not searching she's slipping further and further away. I picture her swimming. She's in the water, swimming, graceful like a ballerina. For a second I think I must be dreaming, but these visions go on while I'm awake. So clear they could almost be real. I spend the night dancing in the water with her, lulling myself into a fake placidity until the sound of my alarm clock breaks my trance.

I get up from my bed, not even tired.

As I head downstairs I catch a waft of an aweful smell. This time it's was worse than before.

Apparently I wasn't the only one who noticed it because as I leave the house that morning there is a note on the door, left by my father that reads: Dylan, take out the trash or do your laundry. Something smells foul.

I shake my head as I walk out the door. That sure as hell isn't dirty laundry. Something is wrong with this house. I won't find out what till later.