1

Back then, nightmares were the biggest part of my reality.

Even though I couldn't explain why I'd always had them, they were recurrent almost every night. As that morning dawned and I lay there in my bed, I kept replaying it over and over in my mind. The cries were still echoing in my ears, and I could feel the blood staining my clothes and face. Through all of those sensations, the face of agony remained the same blur that they'd always been. Only one remained clear within my mind; the little boy with the different colored eyes, the only survivor of what I saw as a massacre that I was forced to witness almost every night.

I finally sat up in my bed, watching as those first lights of dawn peeked through the curtains of my bedroom windows. I was tired, but I needed to get up now. There was no way I'd go back to sleep anyway. So, I pushed my hair back from my face and scooted out of the bed.

As I sat there, I looked at the pills that were still on my nightstand. I probably should've just given in and taken one the night before, but I'd never liked the idea of taking medicine. I was always worried that I could end up addicted to it, especially stuff like sleeping pills.

It was a little after six in the morning as I slipped out of bed. I took out a change of clothes from my dresser and headed to the bathroom to take a shower. I had class in two hours, and I knew that I needed to get some serious studying done before it. Even though I really didn't want to finish this college course now, I was forcing myself to stick it out. It seemed like a waste to quit now.

Things had fallen into a routine for me now. I was kind of bored with it but couldn't complain that much. After a childhood of moving around from place to place, quite frequently I might add, it was nice that we'd finally settled down in the small town of Fallsburg, which bordered the forests of New York State. My mother and I had been there for about a year, and it seemed like just the place she'd been looking for. Nice, quiet, and very small.

I caught sight of myself in the bathroom mirror as I dried off from my shower. I stopped for a moment to study my reflection. Not to sound full of myself, but I knew that I was pretty. I had a beautiful face that was framed by long, radiant red hair, and eyes that were as blue as the clearest sky. While I wasn't really a social person, I did like to admire this beauty I'd been blessed with. It was at least something good in this otherwise dull existence of mine.

I blamed my parents for my outlook on life. If my mother hadn't always been such a recluse and my adoptive father hadn't taken his own life years before, maybe I would've stood at chance at feeling more normal. Maybe I could've made something more out of my life by now with this beauty that I'd been blessed with. But instead, I was living with a certain dread of even being noticed that much, and the horrific nightmares that had given me countless sleepless nights.

I looked away from the mirror and finished drying off, feeling the goosebumps forming on my skin. That bathroom was cold with the small window in there leaking air like it always did. This morning wasn't as cold as the previous ones, but it was enough to speed me up in getting done and dressed.

I stepped out of there still brushing my hair and headed to my room to grab my books so that I could get moving. It was early, but I wanted to get to the classroom to study. If I stayed at the house, then I may have to face my mother this morning, and I didn't feel like it with everything else on my mind. Knowing her, a debate would probably come up again about me taking this class. She'd never liked the idea of me branching out, even though I was now nineteen.

"Do online classes." she kept telling me.

I didn't want to do that. I wanted to experience a classroom at least once in my life, even if it was just for some remedial college course. A lifetime of home schooling had done that much for me. I wanted to have more life experiences now. I wanted more freedom.

The cool morning breeze felt good as I stepped off of the porch and went to the sidewalk. Even though my hair was still a bit damp, I didn't mind it at all. It was refreshing and helped me to wake up completely.

As I walked, I took in the sight of the trees and shrubs along my path. They were all budding now, with flowers were growing from the surrounding grass. Yet another sign that Spring was in the air. Looking at all of this was so much nicer than thinking about that dream.

I stopped as I came to a rosebush growing on the side of a fence. The roses that bloomed on it were large, their petals a deep red. I closed my eyes as I saw that red. I could almost see it dripping like blood.

Why do I keep thinking about all of that? I wondered as I shook my head in a vain attempt to make that vision go away. Why am I like this?

I took a deep breath, forcing myself to open my eyes and resume walking. Maybe there was something seriously wrong with me. It couldn't have been that far out of the realm of possibility, especially when I thought of the sad story of my birth.

The woman that I called my mother had adopted me when I was a newborn. My birth mother was a sixteen-year-old girl who had died right after I was born. She was killed by her own father, who then took me to a nearby church and left me there while he went back to his home and committed suicide. Mama was the one who found me in that church, and she immediately took me in, eventually adopting me.

From what I knew, no one ever learned the identity of my biological father. It was a mystery, although there were rumors (at least according to Mama) that my birth mother was promiscuous, and it could've been any number of men. It was pretty awful when I let myself think about it. What a terrible way to be brought into the world.

I probably should've been grateful that I was adopted so quickly and didn't end up placed in some foster home, but I've always wondered if that was such a good thing. Not long after my adoption, my adoptive father took his own life, hanging himself in the garage of our first home when I was just three years old. I can't explain why, but I've always felt like his death was somehow my fault.

Things didn't get any better after he was gone. Mama began going through a drastic change. She became reclusive and suspicious of everyone. She moved us from place to place, even state to state, after Daddy's suicide. I never got the chance to have any friends, and I was always home schooled. Mama discouraged me being around other children, claiming that they could be a bad influence. This was part of what had driven me to want to do things like this college course once I was able to. I was tired of being forced to be a recluse. I wanted more out of life.

I tried to clear those thoughts as I walked. The past couldn't be changed, but I had found a lot more freedom now. My mother wasn't going to rule my life. I could make it in my own way.

I picked up my pace. I needed to get moving if I wanted to get more study time in. I was hoping that the test our professor had been threatening would be put off just a little longer. I was already falling behind.

I finally made it to the building, hurrying up the stairs and opening the door to slip inside. The hallways were quiet as I walked along the thin brown carpet. The rooms and offices were mostly empty, but that wasn't unusual for this time of morning. I'd heard some of the others say that being here when it was this quiet creeped them out, but it never really bothered me. I honestly thought it was kind of silly. This was just another brick-and-mortar building. There was nothing sinister about it.

My classroom was empty as I came in, which was what I preferred. I walked along the tables that were lined up to face the front of the room, sitting down at the third on the left and pulling out my book and notebook from my bag. I still had another half an hour before class started. That was plenty of time now.

As I looked at my notebook, my mind again flashed back to the nightmare. The blood reappeared in front of me, covering the pages with crimson stains. I closed my eyes again, willing it away. This was really getting old. I needed to find a way around it.

I recomposed myself and opened my eyes, looking at my book to start studying. As I went through the formulas, I heard the sound of the door creaking open. Footsteps sounded as someone came into the room.

Great, I thought. Someone else has decided to come in early.

The footsteps continued without hesitation to where I was sitting. I kept my head down, ignoring them as I continued studying. A moment of silence passed, then I heard a male voice speak. It was quiet and a bit deep.

"Is this seat taken?"

"No, there's no one else here besides me." I answered, not bothering to look up.

The chair beside me was pulled out and he sat down, "Good. I need to look over this stuff again."

I heard him set a book on the table, flipping through the pages. Feeling a bit curious as to who this was, I glanced at him from the corner of my eye. But when I did, I stiffened and had to turn my head completely to see him.

I couldn't believe it. Even though he was obviously grown, he looked like the child from my nightmares.

How was this possible? I was certain that I knew his face, even from the side. He was much manlier of course, but he definitely looked like he could've been that boy. It was incredible. His complexion, his light, sandy colored hair, his features... they were all older, yet exactly the same. The only thing I couldn't see at that moment were if his eyes were different colors because he was looking down at the book.

I managed to find my voice, "Have we... met before?"

The guy finally looked over at me. Oh my God, I thought. They're exactly the same!

He definitely had the same different colored eyes as the boy in my dreams. They were very distinctive and stood out even in the not so good lighting of the classroom. The right one was a light brown while the left was a very vivid emerald green.

"Hmm... I don't think so, although I have seen you around since I came here last week." he responded. He didn't seem to notice my shock. That or maybe he just didn't pay attention to it.

"Since you came here?" I repeated.

The guy shrugged, sitting back a little in his chair and continuing to face me, "Yeah. I came here last week, and I've seen you walking around town a few times. I was kind of surprised that you were all alone. You don't look like the type." he continued.

I did tend to take long walks around the town and on the trails near my home, but I knew that I'd never noticed him around before. I wondered how I'd missed him.

"I guess, but I like walking by myself. It lets me clear my head." I informed him.

I turned back to my book then. So much for studying. I knew I wouldn't be able to now that he was beside me and I'd gotten a good look at him.

"By the way," he continued, "I keep thinking that you look familiar too. What's your name?"

"Ariana Benson, and yours?"

"Chris Liam. I'd tell you my whole first name, but I don't like it. Chris fits me better."

"Really? You know that sound weird." I commented.

"I've gotten that more than once in my life." Chris lamented. He gave me a thoughtful look, "But back to the subject before, I have to say I'm surprised. It seems like luck's been on my side after all."

"What do you mean?"

I was starting to feel a bit uncomfortable. Something about the way he said that didn't sit right with me.

My breath caught in my throat a little as he smiled. He had a beautiful smile.

"Don't worry about it. Let's just say that I'm here now and you don't need to worry about anything anymore." he told me.

"What?"

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I wanted to ask him what that was supposed to mean, but couldn't because other students were starting to come in. I didn't want to draw any attention to us. So, I turned away and looked down at my book and notebook. I'd make it through this class, then try to get some more answers out of him.

The class droned by as usual and seemed to go on forever as I glanced at the guy beside me and thought about what he'd said. I was trying hard to put it all together in my mind. I was certain that I hadn't noticed him at any time during my walks, but I couldn't for the life of me figure out how I'd missed him.

The other things I couldn't understand was why he looked so much like the boy from my nightmares; and on that note, what he meant when he said that I had nothing else to worry about now that he was here. There was definitely a lot more to Chris Liam than met the eye.

My stomach was starting to knot as I thought about all of this. An ominous feeling was coming over me, like something more was happening here. I didn't like it at all.

As the class ended and everyone got up, all of this weighed heavily on my mind. Chris looked over at me as he stood and offered me a hand.

"Looks like we can get out of here now. You coming?"

"What? Are you serious?" I responded as I stared up at him.

"Why wouldn't I be?" he asked.

"Maybe because I have no idea of who you are. You said you just moved here, and I don't know anything about you except for your name." I pointed out. I declined his offer of help and stood on my own, gathering my books in my bag.

Chris wasn't put off, "I don't really believe that one. I'm pretty sure that you've heard about me plenty of times. You've probably even seen me before. At least, what I was a long time ago. So, are you coming or not?"

I froze as he said that, again thinking of the bloodstained child in my nightmares. Could he really have been Chris Liam? It certainly sounded like it. But how in the world was that possible?

I ended up following him out of the room, "Fine, but you're going to tell me what's going on here." I informed him.

"If you insist."

This guy seemed to have a lot of audacity to him, but that was kind of attractive to me. This was a feeling I'd never experienced before. As strange as it was, there was something about this guy that felt irresistible to me. I wanted to figure out his mystery now, even if it meant following him to God knows where.

The two of us walked outside of the building. I watched as Chris tossed the book that he'd brought to the class into the garbage can.

"You do realize that those cost a lot of money, don't you?" I pointed out.

"It doesn't matter. They get outdated way too quick, and I don't need it anymore. It was just for show in there." he responded.

I shook my head in disbelief. This guy was too much.

"Okay, so why did you get me to come out here and miss my next class? You couldn't be that interested in me just from talking to me for five minutes; and while we're at it, what were you going on about with me not needing to worry anymore and seeing you before? Because I know I haven't."

I was doing my best to sound defiant. I was determined that he wouldn't get the better of me. I crossed my arms as I sat on the cement steps near him and gave him my best defiant face.

Chris wasn't concerned at all over my attitude, "I wouldn't call it just being interested, although I do admit that I was curious as to whether or not I was right about all of this. But the more I look at your eyes, the more I'm sure of it. You've got to be her. Only his kid would have eyes like that." he responded.

His words immediately had my attention, "His kid? You mean you know my birth father?" I asked him.

He seemed rather young to know him, but I reasoned that he could have through friends or even family. Could they have been related?

Chris shook his head, "Sort of. I know more about him, considering that it's been a long time since I last saw him in person. But that's beside the point. I'm here now because this is where I need to be. I need to keep my promise." he told me, sounding a bit more serious.

I sighed, looking up through the leaves at the sky, "Look, this is weird. You're talking about knowing my father and I keep feeling like I've seen you before. You even act like I've seen you. Who exactly are you supposed to be?"

Chris was silent for a few minutes. I listened to the sound of the cool breeze rustling through the leaves as I considered what he'd already said. I couldn't explain it, but somehow, I was certain that he was the same boy from my dreams. He even seemed to know about that. But why was he appearing to me now?

Chris finally spoke again, "Unfortunately, there's not a whole lot that I can tell you right now aside from what I already have; but I will say that nothing that happens with you is ever coincidence. Trust me, I think you're going to need me around now that you're at the age for the change too. Your time is running short."

His answer frustrated me even more and made no sense. Nineteen or whatever age I was, it didn't change anything about me; and him saying that I was going to need him didn't sit right with me.

"Look, I appreciate it if you think you're trying to help me with something, but I know where I came from and I think I know where I'm going in my life; so please, don't assume that you can just walk into it thinking that you're going to be my savoir or something stupid like that. No matter what happens to me, I can take care of myself, thank you very much." I informed him.

I stood up, having enough now. All I wanted was to go home and try to get some much-needed rest.

Chris didn't seem put off. He simply shrugged his shoulders, a small smile on his face, "Alright then. I can get that, but I'm not planning on going anywhere. Rest assured; I'll be seeing you around." he responded. He then turned and walked away.

I stood still, not sure of what to make of all of this as I watched him disappear down the sidewalk. I knew that I wasn't anywhere close to getting the answers about who he really was or why he looked so much like the boy in my dreams. But I wasn't about to follow him. For as much as I was curious about him, I was also a bit scared. What if Chris held some sort of big secret that I couldn't handle knowing? My mind already felt fragile. Maybe it was better if I left all of this alone and hoped that he disappeared as quickly as he'd appeared.

I walked home faster than I'd ever done before. I even looked over my shoulder a few times. I knew it was silly, but my entire being felt shaken to the core with that strange meeting. What was all of that about? Was it even real? I was beginning to question it all, and the more I did, the more I just wanted to get home and hide away for a while.

I finally made it back to my house, unlocking the door and heading straight upstairs to my room. Tossing my bag aside, I plopped down on the bed and stared at the ceiling, taking some calming breaths. My insides were still shaking, but at least doing this helped me to sort through all of my thoughts and fears. I ran through everything that Chris had told me again in my head. One thing in particular stood out.

How he'd spoken of my birth father.

This was the man that no one seemed to know anything about, the one that no one had a clue as to his identity or whereabouts. Yet Chris acted like he knew him; or at least he talked like he did at one time. I was so confused. What could all of this mean?

I laid there for a good half an hour with all of these thoughts racing through my mind before finally drifting off to sleep. But again, my mind was invaded with the same nightmare that I'd been having off and on my entire life. The same one that involved the little boy that looked so much like Chris, and the massacre of innocent people around him.

Opening my eyes in the dream, I was standing in a doorway and looking into what appeared to be an old stone house. The floor was made of dirty stone, and the house looked like it had once been an old English dwelling. There were blood stains everywhere, and three bodies were strewn around the room. They had all been butchered.

Near them, a little boy was sitting on the floor and crying. He looked like he was around six or seven years old, and had light colored haired and different colored eyes. He sat alone there, dressed in a blood-stained old fashioned white nightgown and obviously very frightened by the scene around him. It was the same mute scene that I'd been seeing for years, although I could feel the familiar pain in my heart as I looked at this pitiful child.

But this time the dream changed a little.

A dark figure floated up from the ground behind the child. The boy looked up as this figure laid a hand on his shoulder, and I could hear whispering fill the room. It was like they were whispering to the boy. As odd as it was, it almost felt like they were comforting him.

The boy stared up at it, his strange eyes wide and full of tears that were flowing down his bloodstained cheeks. I listened very closely and could hear some words in the whispers that echoed all around me.

".... I'll keep my promise to you, if you keep yours to me...."

I awoke with a start from that dream, the changed scene replaying over and over in my mind. What was that? I'd never heard anything in that dream before. It had always been silent. Yet this time it had been something more than just a crying child surrounded by dead bodies. There had been that dark figure.

I sat up and shook my head as I pictured the child's face in my mind. He looked so much like Chris that it was scary. This couldn't have been a coincidence. There was just no way.

A knock at my door brought me back to reality.

"Yes?" I managed, trying not to sound too shook up.

Mama peeked in, "Hey there. Not feeling well today, Ariana?"

So, she'd known that I'd been home for most of the day. She'd probably heard me come back. But Mama tended to keep to herself a lot, even with me. It wasn't surprising that she hadn't bothered checking on me before this.

I decided not to tell her about what had happened earlier. I played the sick card I'd been handed, "Yeah. I went to my first class and started feeling sick to my stomach, so I came home to get some rest."

"Aw, I'm sorry to hear that. I told you that you've been working too hard. Are you feeling up to having something to eat now? I have some dinner on the table, but I could always fix you some soup." Mama offered.

I glanced at the clock on my nightstand, not believing my eyes. It was almost seven in the evening. I had slept that long?

I didn't let that on to her though. If I did, she would probably get extremely worried. Like I said before, Mama was funny with a lot of things, but she was especially paranoid when it came to me.

"Sure. Dinner sounds good. I'm feeling a little hungry." I agreed, getting up from the bed.

The house was well lit as I came out of my room, just as it always was. All of the pictures still hung on the walls like they always did, and the carpets were a bit worn from never being replaced like they should have been. Even the painted white walls had a yellow tinge to them, showing the house's age.

I glanced at the pictures as we walked downstairs, thinking about how they were all just of me. Mama never had any pictures of herself or Daddy hanging in any of the houses we'd lived in. I'd always thought it was strange, but I reasoned that maybe she didn't want to be reminded of his death. Mama never liked talking about Daddy unless she had to, and even then, it was quick and to the point. I'd learned long ago to not even bring the subject up.

"I thought I'd be creative today and try something new. Tell me what you think." Mama said as I sat down at the table with her. On the plate in front of me was a seafood combination over pasta.

"Oh, it looks good." I responded, forcing a partial smile.

My mother smiled happily from the chair across from me, her worn features lighting up slightly. She'd aged so much in the past ten years, more so than I would have thought for a woman only in her mid-forties. Her long brown hair was thin and graying at the roots, and the wrinkles were beginning to deepen on her pale face. But even with all of that, I could still see the beautiful woman that she once was, especially when little things like this would make her happy.

As we ate, she looked back at me, "You don't look that happy Ariana. Did something happen today?" she asked me.

"No." I replied, not bothering to look at her.

"You need to perk up a little." Mama encouraged me, "There's no reason to feel down. If you're worried about your classes, it's not a big deal. I've told you that it's your choice if you want to continue them."

"No, I'm not worried about my classes." I sighed. I decided to try and approach some of this with her. Maybe she could give me a bit of insight, "I've been dreaming again."

"Really? I thought I gave you medicine to help with that." Mama noted.

"I know, but I'm still having them. I guess it didn't help after all." I lied. I decided that it was better not to tell her that I wouldn't take them. I would've liked it to avoiding a landmine.

Mama seemed let down, "I suppose there's not much we can do then. Those pills were supposed to be the best to help with things like that."

"It's strange. I keep having that same dream I've told you about. The one with the little boy in the room with all those dead people." I went on.

"Now you know that it's just a dream. That little boy isn't real, and you told me that the house looked like it was from the Dark Ages. It's just a nightmare that won't leave your mind for whatever reason. There's nothing for you to worry about with it." Mama reassured me as she picked up the dishes to put them into the sink.

"Yeah, but you know what's weird? Today in my first class, I saw this new guy come in and he looked so much like him. He was all grown up, but I swear he could've been that boy when he was little. Plus, he talked to me like he knew me." I continued.

My mother stiffened as she heard me say that, actually dropping one of the plates that she was washing. She quickly caught herself, grabbing it again and trying to act normal. It was like she hadn't wanted me to notice her reaction.

"That's impossible dear. That boy is just a dream. He's never been a real person." she reminded me.

"I know, but he just looked so much like him that it kind of scared me. He said that his name was Chris Liam, but he wouldn't tell me his whole first name because he said he didn't like it. Sounds dumb, huh?" I explained, trying to break the tension that had settled around us.

Mama nodded, "Yes, yes, it is. Boys are so silly at times, and so fickle too. The littlest things can upset them. That's why you shouldn't bother with them. People are always fickle, and boys are always looking with the wrong intentions, especially with beautiful girls like you. I've told you before that you should always make sure to keep your guard up with them. You're beautiful, and it attracts wolves."

"I guess, but he did actually talk to me. He was a little strange too."

Mama wasn't hearing any more of it, "Like I said, you need to tell him to just stay away. You don't need him coming around you and trying to fill your head with silly ideas. He'll only cause you trouble." she went on as she continued working on the dishes.

I watched her, not sure of what to think. Deep inside I did suspect that my mother knew more about this than she was letting on. But at that time, I didn't have much leverage to question her about it anymore, so I just let it go and hoped that I would eventually forget about Chris Liam and all of these crazy dreams.

Little did I know that this was only the beginning.