It was the place where Alex died.
After that night, I continued to dream of our spot on the lake. In those dreams, Alex was there. I could see him, feel him, and taste him; he could hold me in his arms and help me sort out my plethora of problems. Those dreams kept me going when my heart was in shambles and during my incarceration by the Alpha Pack. But since my escape those beautiful dreams were gone, just like everything else in my life.
That, however, didn’t mean my nights were dreamless. I slept very little those first few weeks, but when I did I was rarely alone.
Most nights featured Jase, my step-brother, who I loved like the twin people believed him to be. Those sleep-induced mini-movies weren’t dreams so much as memories. He would stand in front of the Alphas, head held high, and testify against me. The next morning I would wake with the words, “She’s not my sister,” echoing in my ears. It would take hours for the betrayal and pain to loosen their hold on my lungs enough for me to breathe normally. On the other nights, I found myself with Travis, a now dead member of the Alpha Pack. The most disturbing of those dreams were the ones where everything seemed normal. I would be sitting in class or trolling the aisles of Wal-Mart and there he would be. He would walk towards me, his mouth curved up slightly as if to say, “Oh, hello friend.” I would try to get away, to run, but he was always just around the corner, or blocking my way.
The day after the full moon, my dream took me to a restaurant. It was the fancy kind with actual cloth table cloths and napkins. I could hear and feel other people, but I couldn’t see them. All I could see was the Texan with blue eyes and dishwater blond hair who sat across from me.
“Scout,” he said by way of greeting.
I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. I tried to open my mouth, but it wouldn’t budge. An attempt to get up and leave was also unsuccessful. I was trapped.
“It’s been a while. I haven’t seen you since…” A quirk of the lips. “Well, you know.”
Tears were hot against my cheeks. I wanted to sob, but none of my muscles worked.
“How does it feel to kill someone?” He leaned closer, no more false amusement on his face. His eyes were hard and accusing. “Did you like it? Did you like the feel of the gun in your hand? Did you enjoy watching me die?”
I tried to shake my head, but it still wouldn’t move.
“You did, didn’t you? You murdered me, and you liked it.” He wasn’t yelling or raging, which made it worse. The calm accusations, the absolute certainty he was right in his voice. I wanted to tell him he was wrong, that I was truly sorry. That I would take it all back if I could.
When I woke it wasn’t sudden, although my heart did pound frantically in my chest. The guilt weighed heavy in my stomach and clogged up my throat.
No wonder Charlie zombied out on me, I thought. When I shot Travis it was a situation of kill or be killed. There is no doubt in my mind I did the right thing, the only thing that could be done, and yet I couldn’t shake these dreams or mend the rip in my soul that ending another life caused. How much worse had it been for Charlie who didn’t have the small comfort of knowing it was self-defense? How much worse would I feel if I thought I killed Travis in a fit of rage?
I found Liam sprawled across the other bed when I finally sat upright. Of course, an argument could be made he was actually comatose instead of merely asleep. The motel was one of those places which had been standing since 1950 and hadn’t found the need or money for any updates since. I tried to be quiet as I went about my business, but with ancient plumbing and doors in dire need of WD40, it was basically impossible. Yet, when I emerged from the bathroom, as clean as one can be when the water smells of rust and they only own three outfits, Liam was still in the same position, his eyes closed against the afternoon sun.
I rummaged through the multiple fast food bags littering the room, feeling more than a little like a victorious hunter when I discovered an uneaten sausage biscuit hidden in their depths. With nothing else to do, I sat down, devoured my kill, and watched Liam.
There was a time when I thought Liam was just a bigger, angrier version of Alex. Upon closer inspection, I realized they looked quite different. I mean, anyone who saw them would know without a doubt they were brothers, but they could hardly pass as twins. Liam’s hair was starting to grow out, making the red tint absent in Alex’s shaggy brown mane, more evident. Their bone structure was similar, but Liam’s jaw was more pronounced and boasted a line of stubble. And while their eyes were the exact same shade, Liam’s were shaped differently and his lashes, while not as thick, were much longer.