MARKED

❰Meliora❱ It was a bright Monday morning in the middle of January and even though it was winter in New York - where it poured and sleeted until your vision was foggy - the sun was unforgiving. Today, the birds chattered loud and merry, as if pleased to be under the yellow demon's care. As I prepped for college, I spotted Tesla, my neighbor's dog stand underneath the fountain twice as she waited for him to wake up. I guess she felt the same as I did - restless. Driving through the city, I noticed the snow that coated the streets for days, had melted off and flow like a river along the pavements. People on the road wore light clothes as opposed to the heavy winter gear every New Yorker pulled off on a daily basis. Although, they still carried their coats in full acknowledgment of the uncertain weather of the city. As if witnessing the sun glimmer amidst the shrewd, cold winter was a blessing, everyone rejoiced and seemed buoyant. Everyone except me. Squeezing my eyes shut as I pushed open the door to my car, I let a feeble groan escape my mouth. The sunlight was too bright for my liking, now that my migraine had kicked into the outskirts of my brain, threatening to hit the core and fry every nerve in there. Unfortunately, I had managed less than two hours of sleep last night because of my midnight rendezvous - nightmares. Why it still came as a surprise to me was beyond my comprehension; I was born with them, at least that's how I felt. Reaching for the glove box in search of a pair of decent sunglasses, hoping they would cover my ghastly appearance and give me a presentable look at least. I was in desperate need of it since my body had given up on me today; it refused to function even after the cold shower I dared myself to take in this blistering cold weather. The endless efforts and shuffling through numerous food bills I had shoved in the compartment weren't helping either. Evidently, finding a pair of sunglasses in my glove box was equivalent to finding a needle in a haystack - troublesome and almost impossible. Letting out an internal groan, I cursed myself for being so messy and unorganized. Did I remove them the last time? I couldn't remember, and I cursed myself for that too. "Hah!" I exclaimed with joy as I found a pair of Ray-Bans under the insurance paper I believed I had lost. Perhaps I had lost all my assignment papers in the same way. I made a mental note to clear the compartment later. However, even I knew I would forget that mental note. "Hey." A chirpy voice startled me and caused me to jump up in my seat, the seat belt straining to pull me back down. A wave of pain splashing through my head made me wince; it had now started pulsating on the left side of my brain starting from the frontal lobe to my cerebellum and made it difficult for me to keep my eyes open. Situations like these made me want to tear the person limb from limb, but I knew who it was this time. The familiar, soft, feminine voice belonged to my confidant, my best friend - Cassandra Hawk. Bouncy, luscious caramel hair cascaded down her shoulders and back as she tugged on the scrunchie that held them in place. Casey stood there with the goofiest of grins, her aura lighting up everything around her except me. Calling her presentable would be an understatement for she wore a chic white shirt with a cropped black poncho and paired them with black leggings and stilettos. A style like that made me wonder why she chose Psychology instead of Modelling, she could, with no extra effort, be the next top model given her perfect physique and sense of style. "Jeez! Casey, easy on that enthusiasm," I griped as I put my sunglasses on. "You're jumpy, you haven't slept well last night," she observed, her eyebrows knitting together in a frown - a look she could never pull off since it resembled a more fierce pout than a frown. "No shot, Sherlock." I rolled my eyes behind the dark sunglasses even though I knew she couldn't see it. There was no way in hell I would last throughout the day. "Hey, no need for sarcasm." A huff escaped her mouth before she backed away to let me step out. I made sure to take my car keys out before slamming the door shut and locking the car behind me. When I turned back to face Casey, she had a wicked smile on her face that only pointed towards the mischievous thoughts she was compiling in her head. I sighed and shook my head before heading towards our designated building; Casey followed along. "So, what did you and Ethan do?" She asked, wiggling her eyebrows to pry any information out of me. Her brown eyes glittered with anticipation as she hoped for a gossip, but there were none here. "We did nothing," I informed her, rolling my eyes again at her naivety. "Ethan and I are friends who share an apartment together because New York is sh*t expensive." The enthusiasm died down as I broke it down to her, the glittering eyes strolling back to their normal state. My best friend was a gossipmonger and there was nothing more she liked than a hot topic. Feeling a little generous, I decided to give her a hint of last night's events. "Also, I'm not into threesomes," I stated. The fading light in her eyes flickered as she smiled in amusement, just like I had anticipated. I chuckled at her expressions before crossing the cycling path to reach the pavement. "No wonder he is late," she said before suppressing her entertaining smile to frown. "What kept you up then?" Curious eyes stared at me, trying to read me through my glasses (if that was even possible.) As I recalled everything that happened last night, my lips twisted downwards in dismay. "Nightmare, as usual," I told her; there was no need for any more details since she already knew every bit. Casey met me at the start of Senior High School when she transferred, making our friendship a little under three years old to date. Although those years were too little for a few people, they were enough for me considering Casey was very understanding and supportive of my daily dramas. She even tried to find a solution until my dreams became exceedingly morbid with time. "If it isn't the two of my favorites." Ethan swung his arms around both our shoulders as he stood between us and squeezed us together into a hug. The building pain in my shoulders was enough to bring me back to the world of the living and I winced in pain. "Ethan, you're killing us," Casey shrieked, slapping at Ethan's arms in desperate need of release. However, Ethan only loosened his grip on us. Ethan was a former Lacrosse player, which gave him an exceptional physique; I'm talking biceps, triceps, abs, etc. So you see, he could, with no extra effort, crush us without even realizing it. However, it was only his outward appearance that intimidated people; he was a real sweetheart on the inside. Don't tell him that though, it annoyed him to the next level. The strong smell of perfume that invaded my nostrils only confirmed my doubts about him not taking a shower. That was the only logical explanation of his speedy arrival. A smile spread across his face as he took a deep breath; he liked this weather. The rays of the sun brightened his olive skin, giving him that sun-kissed look everyone raved about. Why was everyone in such a great mood today? This felt like a conspiracy against me. "Wow! You look dead," he commented when he noticed my disheveled look. I couldn't blame him, I looked like a punk rock zombie ready to head to a concert with my faded black Metallica T-shirt and matching ripped skinny jeans. My brown mess of a hair were tied to the top of my head in a bun and I was sure it caused most of a migraine, but I didn't care. The blue under my eyes somehow perfectly complemented the blue in my eyes. "Thanks for the vote of confidence," I grunted in annoyance. "What was it this time?" he asked, a frown settling on his forehead. It was needless to ask, he already knew; he was born into it. Ethan had been my friend ever since we were infants, our Mothers' once told us we had held each other's hand the first time we met and we were inseparable ever since. Except, of course, when he decided he wanted to pursue Art and I decided on Psychology. "The usual. Except, it felt real this time," I told him as I reflected upon the demented dream my mind had woven. Adrenaline coursed through my veins as I bolted past the trees, a few stray branches smacking against my body, making an incision wherever they touched. The sound of my heartbeat drummed against my ears and my breath resonated across the forest in the form of a gruff. Dense, tall trees joined hands to form a thick canopy above and blocked most of the moonlight from reaching the ground. Yet, I had a clear vision of my path, which by some coincidence was the path he chose too. The person, a mere boy, ran with all this strength, occasionally turning back to look at his predator. Tired of playing Tag with the prey, the predator pounced on him and from there; it didn't take long for the boy to die. The predator was none other than me; I had killed the boy. All those years of recurring nightmares had no major changes in them. Sure, the people changed, the location changed, the game changed. But in the end, they all died, killed by none other than me. Although, this time I had also seen a pair of eyes watching me - piercing hazel eyes that burnt golden against the dark aura around them. I had never seen eyes like those and I knew I wouldn't forget them even in a million years. "Mel? Meliora!" Ethan's voice and his persistent nudge pulled me back from my thoughts. "Huh, what?" I looked at them in confusion. Did I miss something? "We think you should tell your parents about it," Casey filled in, a troubled look crossing her almost-symmetrical face. A mild frown settled on my face as I contemplated the idea, my eyes focusing on the tiles on the pavement. A few years ago, after my parents concluded my dreams were not just a part of my vivid imagination, had led me to a psychiatrist for consultation. Multiple failed sessions and sedatives later, I did what I thought was best for everyone and lied about the therapy going great. I couldn't bring myself to tell them they had wasted their hard-earned money for nothing. "And tell them I have been lying to them all this time? They'd go ballistic. I can't do that." Ethan's lips set in a grim line as he rubbed his hands against my arms; it was soothing and made me wish I had stayed at home and taken that nap I so needed. I wish I could skip the idiotic test I had to take today. "I want to go home." Groaning, I hurried my head into his chest, a tiny piece of me hoping to hear him say we could leave. "All in time, cupcake," he whispered and placed a gentle kiss on my temple. It was a gesture I had grown accustomed to, however, Casey being herself, stood there with a victorious smile plastered on her face. "Aren't you two the sweetest couple." Annoyed, I threw my car keys at her (because I was short of things to throw at her.) Being a baseball ace, she caught it in time. Great! Even my reflexes had given up on me today. "Less talking, more walking," I said, glaring at her, then turned to Ethan and smiled, "I'll see you later." After waving goodbye to Ethan, Casey and I walked towards our building while discussing the test and our upcoming visit to the zoo, leaving my hideous dream behind. ---------- By the end of college, I had proven to be the zombie I feared I'd become; I had no energy left in my body to even walk a block. Looking at my pitiful condition, Ethan offered to drive us home. Although, I suspected he did that only to save himself from getting into an accident in case I drove. However, I wasn't one to complain; I sat in the passenger seat with my eyelids ready to drop. The moment we entered the house, I dropped my bag on the floor next to the fuzzy white couch I plopped myself on. Ah! The fur felt so great after an entire day of hard-plastic chairs. Times like these made me feel glad I bought a faux fur cover for our couch against Ethan's will; he hated it, or at least he tried. "Want something to eat?" I heard him ask from the kitchen. I only groaned my agreement knowing he'd prepare something for me, anyway. Finding the house too quiet, I stretched my hand to the center table and with some effort, hit the button on the remote. The TV screen came to life and started on my least favorite channel - the local news channel. Was I going to put an effort to change it? Heck no. Closing my eyes, I listened to the presenter chattering about global news, then switching to country and so on. I began to drift off until I heard one specific news that rid me of my sleep. I sat up with a jerk and winced as a wave of pain crossed my head. However, my headache was the least of my concerns. "An increasing number of animal attacks being reported in the last few months, coming from various parts of the city, has left people shocked. In a recent report, police officials found a body near Black River, Forestport early this morning, marking it to the third kill among several sightings. The victim is being identified as a 19-year-old boy named Matt Stewart, who, according to his parents, had gone for a walk. Forensics report has yet to come..." The lady continued. however, I wasn't listening anymore; my eyes fixated on the terribly pixilated picture that flashed on the right side of the screen. It belonged to a mere boy who still had freckles on his nose, his auburn hair so messy, they probably uncombed for ages. Those green ocean-like eyes were far too familiar for me to ignore. I could feel my heart thrash against my fragile chest as his piercing eyes stared at me. The walls began closing in on me and trapping me. This wasn't happening, how was this even possible? "Ethan," I called out to my friend frantically, "Ethan!" He dashed into the living area with a spatula in one hand and an apron around his torso. Tired blue eyes widened as they landed on me, worried and confused at the same time. The spatula he held, dropped to the floor as he rushed towards me and engulfed me in a comforting hug. Burying my head in his chest, I cried a thousand tears in hopes that the ache would disappear. "Hey," he cooed in my ears, concern laced in his voice, "what happened?" Unable to utter even a single word, I only gestured towards the television screen as I gathered the strength to speak. I couldn't look into those eyes, they were haunting and if they weren't already, they'd haunt me for a lifetime. "I saw him die," I uttered once the chokes had died down, "in my dream." His eyebrows rose as his eyes widened further in horror, his mouth opened as if to say something but nothing came out of it. He looked confused and worried and upset for some reason Pulling myself away from him, I scrubbed the sleeves of my jumper against my cheeks; it burned, but I ignored the pain. "Are you... Are you sure?" he stuttered, finding it difficult to comprehend the information. I nodded my head with alarming speed. "I remember those eyes clearly, Ethan. I was chasing him," I said to him, my brain dangerously close to exploding. "What if... What if I killed him?" Both our eyes widened as the weight of those words sank in. I had never been one to forget a person's eye, not his; the amount of fear they held as he ran, made sure I would never forget them. "It's an animal attack, Mel. The lady said it, they found claw marks," Ethan convinced or at least try to sound convincing. There was no way it was a coincidence that the boy I chased in my dreams was now dead, and I made sure to point that out to him. His troubled expression was enough to tell me he did not hold the answer and neither did I. Letting myself slip into the deepest and darkest corners of my harrowing mind, I rocked back and forth as I tried making sense of everything. I zoned out for so long that I missed the distress call Ethan made to Casey; she was now sitting on the center table in front of us. All three of us sat there - two Psychology and an Art student, trying to decipher my dream. "What if these are not dreams but a piece of my memory?" I said out loud. Ethan frowned, taking his time to process everything before saying, "what you're suggesting is that for the past twenty years, you've been going around harming people and only remembering it as a dream? It doesn't even make sense." "Nothing at this point does," I cried, filled with anguish, "how did I watch him die the same night as his actual death?" "Well, some people do experience Déjà Rêve. Maybe you can do too," Casey suggested, her tone cautious. I stayed quiet for a while, thinking about her suggestion. Agreed, some people could dream about the future, but my dream happened almost at the same time the actual incident happened. It wasn't something you could explain; it was an unknown anomaly and it bothered me to a great extent. "I'm going to Forestport," I announced, weary of the discussion. There was only one way to find what happened and I wasn't going to just sit around waiting for any news; I needed to take matters into my own hands. Ethan and Casey gawked at me as if I had grown two heads. They must think I was insane and maybe I was. "What?" Ethan asked in disbelief or maybe confusion, I couldn't pinpoint. I let out a deep sigh. "Look, I have spent my entire life trying to find a reason why I had such vivid dreams, find a way to stop them. For the first time in twenty years, I have found a lead. Maybe if I go to this place, I might find something," I said, struggled to explain to my friends what I wanted. "I refuse to believe that what I saw was just a coincidence. There has to be an explanation." They looked at me with wide eyes, surprised at my sudden outburst, but soon recovered when they saw my troubled expression. Casey sighed before saying, "I'll accompany you, even though I know you didn't kill that boy. We ought to finish this, for your sake." A single tear slipped from my eyes as I pulled her into a hug. I would finally find my answers tonight.