Avery
"You saw her again?"
Aidan's soft voice cut through the silence like a knife, startling me. I poked at the food on my plate, moving it around with my fork, but didn't say anything. I could almost feel Aidan's eyes on me as I ignored him. Faintly, I heard him sigh and felt a pang of guilt.
"Yeah, I did."
I was my turn to sigh. I lifted my eyes to meet his gaze, wondering why he felt the need to bring these things up. I stared at him and he stared right back, his piercing green eyes seemed to see what I was thinking.
"Yeah, I'm a pain in the ass. Whatever. But... Do you think it's just a dream or... something else?"
I shrugged at his question. A less subtle version would have been; 'Either you're having some really bad, repetitive nightmares, or, Avery, you're being haunted.' Yeah, that's a laugh and a half. Even if I did believe in ghosts.
Damn, I must have lost you by now, so how about I explain things?
I guess this all started about three months ago, when my life had been some kind of normal. I started having these weird dreams about some girl. Now, before you go thinking how that's normal for a young man such as myself, let me tell you about the girl. She had long, messy raven black hair, hard silvery-grey eyes and she always wore one of those old-fashioned white nightgowns. That wasn't the weird part, though. In every single damn dream, she was covered in blood. Her blood, no doubt, and it was always from the series of cuts and gashes in her thin and sickly white arms. Yeah, I was having dreams about a girl who cut herself, how weird is that? At first it wasn't anything big. Glimpses of her no more than once or twice in my sleep, but then she'd be more visible and I'd see her for longer periods. For about a month, she'd be yelling and crying and asking for help until I woke up frightened and panting. Man, I get shivers thinking about it! Anyway, somehow I learnt her name. I think she told me—or I'd seen it in a dream. Alexza was the name, and I'd heard- or seen- it in the last dream I'd had before ending up where I am now. Somehow, I'd fallen asleep, even with the fear of it eating at me. I woke up trembling and drenched in blood, with my roommate shaking me.
Apparently I'd been yelling in pain and he'd come running. Needless to say, he was scared to death about the blood and thought I'd starting cutting myself, again(we'll get to that later). He told me I could have bled to death, damnit, and to get the hell out of bed so he could clean me up. I complied and followed him to the washroom where he let warm water run over my badly cut wrists and wrapped them up with some gauze he found in his first aid kit. I could tell he was worrying but trying not to let it show, hoping not to scare me. Finally, I told him that I hadn't done this- didn't even know what had happened. He nodded, but referred me to a psychologist. I went, only to make him happy, and spent a few weeks going over my life with the man he'd sent me to. I told him everything from my parents' death in college, which had resulted in way too much drinking and an uncontrollable need to hurt myself physically, to the dreams. Somehow, I got the feeling he didn't believe me and really didn't care about the dreams. He thought I was making it up, and to prove that he sent me to St-Johns Asylum. He said I was a real danger to myself and probably to others, that the staff at St-Johns could keep an eye on me at night, make sure I was no harm to myself ever again. And that had worked perfectly until last night. Usually, the dreams caused me to frown, whimper even yell, and the nurse on duty would wake me, but my guess is that last night I appeared to sleep soundly, even if I'd had one hell of a dream. That's what Aidan and I were discussing. But, before I go right back to that, I think it'd be good if I describe Aidan physically. It might be important.
Aidan is the kind of guy who had probably been popular all through his school years. Not because he was a jock, but because he was without a doubt the nicest guy in the world. I've known him for three months and I have never seen him get mad at anything. Now, that could have been annoying, but it wasn't. Aidan's honest and trusting nature more than made up for it. The first thing I'd noticed about Aidan when I'd gotten here three months ago, though, was his appearance. He wasn't only good looking, he was drop-dead gorgeous. And that coming from a woman's man so it had to be the truth. He looked like one of those models- not the small insignificant ones, but the ones who modeled for Armani or whatever other huge company.
His white-blond hair that curled in little ringlet and framed his face, made beautiful by his high cheekbones and square jaw, his full dark pink lips and his huge green and gold-specked eyes lined with long lashes that would make anyone do whatever he asked them to, were only the beginning of Aidan's sexiness. His soft skin was darkly tanned and without blemishes, he had a long, lean and hairless chest, muscular legs slightly covered with that pale hair of his, strong hands with long, delicate fingers and a splash of dark freckles across his muscular shoulders. The only thing about him that wasn't model-like was his height. He stood at 5'10 only, but since I wasn't very tall myself, I didn't really care. Now, you might think this little description sounded like it came from someone who was in love with him. But, being in love and loving someone are two different things. Plus, there's no other way anyone can describe Aidan, straight or not, in love or just friends, without sounding totally captivated by him. Even a complete stranger would have wanted to describe him like I had, probably even with better words. Anyway, don't get me wrong, if I were gay I'd be all over Aidan, but I just don't swing that way. The fact that he walks around shirtless all the time and I don't jump him just proves that. Anyhow, we can get back to the present, now.
"Man, I feel like I'm going out of my damn mind!"
I grabbed at my black hair with both hands and pulled mockingly. Aidan chuckled lightly and stood from my desk chair. He made his way across the small room and leaned against the door, arms folded across his bare chest. He let his gaze drop on me and sighed softly.
"You are out of your mind."
He whispered teasingly and stuck out his tongue. He let his left hand fall and grip the doorknob.
"Let's go, Sam's waiting for us."
And with that, he opened the door, stepped out and disappeared into the hallway as the door closed behind him. I stayed on my bed for a minute, then pushed my plate away and lazily walked over to the small mirror on the far wall. I looked alright. I mean, if messy, curly black hair, smudged eyeliner and swollen lips was looking okay. I would have laughed at myself, but I thought I might throw up if I did. At least the eyeliner brought out the color in my eyes more. Yeah, it was conceited, but I loved the cold blue of my eyes more than anything else about myself. That, and the swelling in my lips was pretty normal, considering that's what had happened when I used to have the dreams. Sighing, I turned away and grabbed a sweater. I put it on as I exited the room and walked towards the sitting room where Sam and Aidan were waiting for me, each occupying a couch on their and chatting. I flopped down beside Sam and wrapped my arm around her shoulder.
"Hey sweets, how are you?"
I asked as she rested her head on my shoulder. I could smell the vanilla perfume from her hair and gently kissed the top of her head. I swear I saw Aidan flinch, but I could be wrong. It wasn't like I was dating Sam, if he liked her he was more than welcome to make a move.
Sam muttered an answer I didn't catch as I eyed Aidan curiously. He was sitting with his back against the armrest and his legs spread open, sprawled across the couch.
"Expecting something?"
I asked jokingly and Aidan winked and smiled playfully.
"You guys are gross."
