Come to me...
The velvety tone of the young man’s voice resonated through my body, compelling me to do as he commanded. “Where are you?” I asked. The comforting smell of fresh linen disappeared, replaced by the cool crispness of the outdoors. Another dream. Once more, I was in the forest. Filtered moonlight shot through the eerie mist hovering over the damp ground.
Come to me...
The voice was internal, but my head whipped to the left and my feet shot forward, instinctually following the source.
WHAM!
“Oh snap, sleepwalking fail.” The unnatural quiet of the forest was interrupted by Raines voice. The muted sounds of old school Green Day floated in, as I woke up.
I was laid out on the bleached hardwood floor of the guest house, staring up through skylights that hinted at early morning. Raine was at the stove in the kitchen, doubled over from laughter so far her ebony waves swept the ground.
“I can’t believe you let me walk into that wall, just so you could laugh at me,” I grumbled. “You are a bad friend.”
“Lies! I’m a great friend. Plus you’re stuck with me, since no one in your sticksville town gets you like I do. And in all fairness, I had no idea you were going to clobber yourself.”
“You probably live in the smallest town in Canada and you’re accusing me of being from sticksville?”
“Hey I never said I wasn’t, but at least I can stay with my dad in the city whenever I need some retail therapy.”
I tried steering the conversation back on track. “Did you try waking me up when I came out of the bedroom?”
Raine shook her head. “I didn’t know you were still sleeping, until you sprinted into the wall so hard you knocked yourself on your ass.” She started laughing again.
I picked myself off the floor, probing the goose-egg forming above my left eyebrow. I cursed. This was our sixth night in London, and the fourth night in a row I hadn’t woken up in my bed.
Raine managed to cut herself off mid-chuckle, to scramble something delicious smelling on the back burner. “Were you dreaming about your forest dude again?”
“Yeah, and it’s getting pretty intense,” I said. “First it was just the voice, but now I’m getting some major visuals, and I can smell the forest. It’s like, I need to find him.”
“I think you cracked your melon a little too hard this time.” She walked over, waving a hand spastically an inch from my face. “How many fingers do you see?”
Rolling my eyes, I brushed her hand away and headed to the bedroom to exchange loose fitting flannel pants and oversized t-shirt for some equally loose fitting cargo pants and a tank.
Reaching for my brush on the dresser, I paused, seeing the crumpled letter from my father –or as Raine liked to call him, the sperm donor. I refused to let the gift of this trip make up for the fact he hadn’t shown his face once, in the entirety of my life so far. Seriously, would it have hurt him to pick up the phone and say ‘hello’?
I swept aside the note, and set about ridding myself of a nasty case of bed-head. I was just securing my last braid when Dexter’s voice came through the door.
“Morgan, are you decent?”
“Mhmm,” I mumbled around a mouth full of hairpins, “come in.”
My newly acquired cousin opened the door, but didn’t cross the threshold. “Your mum called up to the main house, said she tried ringing you but couldn’t get through.” He ran a hand through his sandy blonde locks, shooting uncomfortable looks around the room.
I couldn’t blame him. It looked like a bomb had gone off. The entirety of Raines underwear collection dangled from a pedestal on her footboard, and clothes hung out of half closed drawers in both dressers. Makeup, hair products, and styling tools covered every square inch of counter space in the room, and a collection of multi color shoes sat in a pile by his feet. Blankets lay on the floor in a snowy heap of twisted linen, where I had dumped them before taking my header into the wall.
I hooked a toe under the strap on my backpack and pulled it over, while placing a pageboy cap over my strawberry blonde plaits. Digging around inside the pack I found my phone, wincing at the empty power bar. “My cell’s out of juice. I’ll charge it and give her a shout when we get back.” I threw my passport, lotion and a hoodie into my bag and zipped it back up, then plugged my phone into the charger.
Dex finally managed to drag his gaze away from the chaos of our room. His brows shot up as he noticed the welt on my forehead. “Sleepwalking again, yeah?”
“Yeah,” I sighed.
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