Once Again

Chapter 36

(Ali's P.O.V)

I hear the sound of my footsteps echoing against the concrete floor. It's dark, and I can't see much of my surroundings. How I got here, I have no idea. My pace increases once I spot a sillhouette a few feet ahead of me. By the looks of their roughly built up and muscular figure, it's a guy. That's when the pin drops.

The silky, dark brown mop of hair gives him away as I rush to his side. Dylan lies on his back, his eyes are closed and his face is pale. I open my mouth to call his name, but no sound comes out. Some shuffling comes from a few feet ahead and as the figure appears, my mouth goes completely dry.

The familiar scar is prominent, running from his thick black brow and down to his tanned cheek. The storm in those dark grey eyes assess me as memories of the day he held a knife to my throat come rushing back. He quickly approaches me and I have no time to move. He's on top of me and I'm writhing in an attempt to buckle him off.

"Ali!" the voice echoes and I open my mouth to scream.

"Ali, wake up!" I am being shaken by the shoulders, Dylan's apprehensive face comes into focus as I hastily open my eyes. Judging by the lack of light, it's still dusk. Abrubtly, the tears begin to flow unbidden. As I stare at Dylan, alive and well, I sigh in relief but the tears just won't stop pouring.

It was just a dream, I try to tell myself.

More like a nightmare.

"Hey, why are you crying?" He coos, bringing me up and cradling me in his lap.

I bury my head into his chest and let the tears roam free, not bothering to hold back any longer. I know that seeing Dylan unconscious was only a dream, but not seeing the other person. He's also alive and well, and I know I saw him on my drive here to Dylan's house. I wouldn't have recognised him... if it wasn't for that scar. That godforsaken scar.

"Don't cry, baby. I hate seeing you cry. It was just a dream, ok? You're safe now." Dylan whispers into my hair as he leaves chaste kisses on my head.

He takes hold of my face with both hands and tenderly wipes my cheek with his thumb. His face is etched in concern as he assesses me intently, checking for any sign of injury. His concern for my wellbeing brings a little smile to my face and I'm able to finally stop crying.

I know he's dying to ask me what's wrong, I can tell by the way he's looking so deeply into my eyes, but he doesn't make a move to ask me. I decide to get it over with and tell him.

When I saw him, let's just call him scarface, I drove as quickly as I could so he wouldn't spot me. I made sure I wasn't being followed before actually driving to Dylan's, which took me an extra added thirty minutes. I acted as if nothing happened, it clearly wasn't a very convincing act seeing as Dylan persistently asked what was wrong, but after I distracted him with other things he dropped the subject.

He knows there's something I'm not telling him, knowing me for as long as he has will grant him that, and I know he's just waiting for me to spill the beans. But before I can even put my words together, realisation hits me hard.

They're back, was what he had said to Jason. I was going out of my mind trying to figure it out when the answer was just staring me in the eyes. Scarface, he's back.

My heartbeat quickens and I try to swallow past the lump in my throat. Shit, he's back.

"Ali," Dylan urges, clearly growing impatient with my lack of wording abilities.

"I saw him," I mutter, staring distractedly into the distance as I sit up and cross my legs. Dylan rests his back on the headrest and swicthes on his bedside lamp. My eyes cower away at the sudden alternation of lighting as I turn to look at him. "He's back." I whisper.