She hissed slightly as the cold water cascaded down her body. Belatedly, she realised that she had absent-mindedly scrubbed on a healing wound on her left forearm a little too hard. The water made it sting. She stared at it as the water cascaded down her body, rinsing the suds and sluicing down the drain. The wound had turned an angry red. She brushed her thumb over it and hissed again. It mocked her, taking more time to heal than others had as if serving as an angry reminder of her life that she had left behind. However, unlike the past month today, the scars stared mockingly at her.
Turning off the shower knob, she stepped out, shivering at the sudden change in temperature. The heater had been acting up for a few days now and finally took its last breath last night. She hurriedly dried herself and pulled on her work clothes — a pair of black trousers and a beige cotton blouse. Tying her damp hair into a bun, she tossed the damp towel in the laundry basket. Looking out of the window, she saw that dawn had just encroached on the sky, so another 4 or so hours before she had to leave. She plopped down on the still unmade bed and just stared blankly at the unkempt side of the room. Today one of those mornings, the ones that left her sluggish and kept her mind blank.
Why did she have that old dream again? Could it be called a dream if one wakes up gasping for breath and drenched in sweat? She had believed that with her past she had also deposited that dream, leaving it behind and settled in this town, far away from where she used to live. She sighed and stood up. Trudging to her kitchenette, she started slicing some fruits, the rhythmic sound of cutting taking off her mind from the other thoughts momentarily. Popping in a slice of kiwi, she opened the mini-fridge and perused through whatever food was left inside. Taking out the packet of bread, she put two slices in the beat-up toaster.
Grabbing her phone from the nightstand in the meantime, she googled - ‘Do people get recurrent dreams?’ Billions of search results popped up in seconds. She scrolled up, clicking on a few articles until the toaster clunked, alerting her in the process. She carelessly put the gadget on the countertop as she lathered a thin layer of butter on the toasts.
By the time she had managed to nibble and eat half her breakfast, she could hear the hubbub outside the street — the bell of the bicycle and chirping of birds. She looked down at the now soggy bread. She swallowed the morsel in her mouth before getting up from the bed. Was she so engrossed in her thoughts that she didn’t notice the time? Maybe.
Depositing the plate on the small sink, she packed the fruits to consume later. She went to fix her hair in front of the small bathroom mirror and tried to conceal her eye bags with the remnants of a concealer. Taking a deep breath and once again making sure none of her scars was on display, she picked up her bag and phone and left her stamp-sized apartment.
The company where she worked now, thanks to Barbara, was strangely situated near the outskirts of the town and close to the forest, not quite destroying nor compromising nature, but peculiar enough to raise eyebrows. She found it strange because the King Corps specialised in making various parts of computers and other gadgets and was a well-known international company. But she loves working there. It keeps her mind off all the bad things, all the intrusive thoughts. Her co-workers aren’t half bad either. She checks the phone. The lock screen clock tells her it’s 8.
It takes 45 minutes to reach, very few people arrive at this time. She reaches her cubicle and sets down her bag. Turning on the computer she opens chrome again and types - ‘What do recurring dreams mean?’ She fervently scrolled up and her eyes caught one snippet of an article: ‘Recurring dreams often tell you the future.’ Her ears started ringing. Future? What kind of future does her dream entail? The images, the scenarios that momentarily gripped her with fear and anxiety. The dream that she had since 16, the one that did not show her any pattern, the one where she never heard anyone’s voice but filled with horrific images that made her scream awake at times.
She let outs a shuddering breath, willing herself to remain calm. Distantly, she heard the chattering of people. With shaking fingers, she manages to close the window. When she lived with her...foster caretakers (she loathed to call them parents) she never got a chance to question these things. But now that she has the opportunity, whom will she question? Who can tell her something substantial?
“Summer! Good morning!” a nasal voice broke her reverie. She startled and glanced up. Hannah, a chirpy girl in her late 20s and the only person who doesn’t feel rankled by her closed-off nature. She offered her a small smile and nodded. Hannah logged into the computer while she rambled, “I feel so lazy today. Shouldn’t have had three cans of beer yesterday.” Summer shook her head slightly. That was nothing new.
By the time afternoon rolled in, a headache had started to form. She blinked at the screen a couple of times, the numbers and letters blurring at times. God, her eyes hurt. “You can take a break and eat something, ya know?” Hannah suggested. She hummed in agreement. She hadn’t eaten anything since the morning. Maybe a cup of tea and some crackers? She got up from the chair and went to the vending machine. Since the office was situated far away from human residence, they also had a cafeteria.
Unlike most Americans, she preferred a cup of tea to a cup of espresso. As the cup filled, the thoughts came back. A gigantic man with a wolf's head and a woman lying limply on the ground. The man had been looking directly at her and approaching her slowly, as if he could see her. Who are they? Why did she see that woman when she doesn’t even remember meeting her, ever? Taking the cup filled with sloshing hot beverage, she traipsed her way back to the cubicle when all of a sudden she collided with someone. She hissed as the cup slipped from her hand, spilling the liquid on the person in front of her and on her hand.
“I am so sorry,” she repeated profusely, but when she glanced up, her whole being came to a standstill.
Amber eyes clashed with a pair of silver, sharp and icy. She gasped, not at the cold-faced Adonis standing in front of her, but because of a sudden vision that flashed across her mind’s eye. Red eyes. The ones that she had seen a few weeks ago.Dorian looked at the employee with ill-concealed ire after the momentary daze that had convinced him that the girl was his mate. He glared at her. She was practically gawking at him, which annoyed him further. Who recruited her? He wondered. His wolf was another story. He was purring at the sight of his mate, the suppressants barely keeping him from taking over. He looked down at his now spoiled shirt. He’d have to go back and change again.“Watch your steps,” he gritted, continuing to glare at her. He glanced around. A sizeable crowd had gathered. His employees tried to be inconspicuous as they watched the scene unfold. No one dared to come close to him or offer him any help. Dorian didn&rsqu
“You have dinner with family at 7,” Kyle said as he flicked scrolled through the schedule in the tab. Dorian grunted. He scoffed internally as he thought about how his ‘family’ put up so much effort to meet each other once every week, but in reality, everyone wanted to kill the other, everyone especially wanted to kill him. As his eyes skimmed through the papers, that Kyle had brought for him to sign, he couldn’t help but chuckle. Oh, how they thought that appeasing him would help them be in his good books.“Alpha?” Kyle’s tentative call made him look up. His beta’s eyebrows had drawn together, maybe because he puzzled as to why he had suddenly huffed out a chuckle. Dorian plucked a silver pen, gifted by his grandfather from the pen stand and said, “I am just amused by this pretentious family dinner.” Kyle frowned but refrained from commenting on his view.Once alone in his office, Dorian&rsq
“How is work?” Clara asked primly, while gracefully twirling the noodles with the fork. The others subtly looked at them, he could feel it. Dorian stifled a sigh. He was utterly bored and they weren’t even halfway through the dinner. Among the family members, only his grandpa and Clara were the ones who made an effort to talk to him. Clara used to be his closest cousin and confidant, but somewhere along the journey of adulthood, they had drifted apart.“Good,” he replied, not looking up from his plate. He just wanted to be out of this facade of a dinner. For the next few minutes, only the clinking of plates and glasses could be heard. Dorian sometimes wondered why they bothered to arrange this when no one wanted to talk with another, and they all walked on eggshells around him. It always irked him to see his father’s empty seat, left as a stark reminder of the past. Grandfather never let him forget it fo
It was dark and gloomy. She could hear the rumbling thunder outside. She could smell the damp air, could hear the constant dripping of water from the leaking roof into the room where they were trapped. Why? She didn’t know. How? She didn’t know that either.“‘Don’t hurt my daughter...don’t...please. I will...I will tell you...I….” the faceless woman pleaded as she tried to drag her blood-soaked body back until her back hit the wall. She was cradled in her arms, unable to see who it was that addressed her as their daughter. Was she her biological mother? Possibly. She peeked a look at the man who stood not too far away from them. Was it a man? Or a dog? What species was it? It was growling...it always did. Its red glowing eyes made her shudder. And then…There was blood, dark and thick. She sat shivering in one corner of the room, trying to blend into the wall almost as she watched the c
Her eyes fluttered open to an unfamiliar room. She was familiar with this type of ceiling. She had been to this place countless times. And then everything came gushing back, making her sit up for the next moment. Red eyes….red eyes...her mind chanted and then the voice which had said her to beware of the red eyes…“Finally, you decide to grace the living world,” a timbre voice says from her right. Her gaze snapped towards its origin. Her eyes widened when she found that none other than her boss was lounging on the couch, staring at her, or rather scowling back at her. He was fully dressed in a suit now, thankfully.She swallowed nervously and averted her gaze. How on earth was she so unlucky? Just when she had thought that life was going to be mundane, she had multiple encounters with her all-too-unhappy boss and all in a span of
She heard a sharp intake of breath. She did not look up from the porcelain bowl. The white countertop made her feel dizzy before she resumed, “I don’t know much about my time at the orphanage but I can say one thing that I could live and breathe freely there. One day, I was adopted by the Whites, a childless couple who seemed to be lovable and cheerful in the beginning.” Her lips twisted slightly at the words ‘cheerful’ and ‘loveable’.She pushed back the bowl slightly and glanced at Barbara who was staring back at her. Her face was an open book, painted with a plethora of emotions. “I was taken care of initially,” she said, furrowing her eyebrows and remembering the days when they actually cared for her like parents would for a child. “But then...things started getting worse,” she continued. Summer gripped the spoon tighter. “Financially they weren’t stable and bringing me into their li
‘So she knows how to thank people, but doesn’t know how to reply back, ’ Dorian thought as he glanced at his phone which remained silent. He did not expect any reply after he sent one, yet he felt a twinge of disappointment when his phone did not light up.He tore his gaze from the unsuspecting device to his laptop screen. The emails were starting to give him a headache. He was about to type yet another response when the doorbell rang. He knew it was his beta, Kyle.“How many times did I tell you to just use the damn key,” he groused as he let him in. Kyle ambled in, two take away packets in his hand, and walked straight to his study. Dorian shook his head and closed the door. Kyle placed the takeaway packets on the desk and said sheepishly, “I keep forgetting about the key.”
The dried leaves crunched under her feet as she made her way to the office. She stifled a yawn as she trudged her way to the building. ‘I should have taken a long way,’ she thought. She couldn’t sleep properly last night. ‘I will go back to my apartment today,’ she decided as she watched her steps. “What are you doing in this area?” a gruff voice made her jump. She whirled around to find a blond man glaring at her. His eyes conveyed nothing but violence. Fear seized her body. His expression was almost familiar to that — the molester. She swallowed nervously, her throat dry. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. Her eyes tracked the blond’s movements. He prowled towards her. “I asked you a question, girl. Answer me!” he boomed, making her shudder. She clenched her tremblings fists, keeping them to her side. The man snarled. What will she do? Where will she run?