 
To Dream Again

By Matthew D. Hay

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2013 Matthew D. Hay

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, pleasure purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thanks you for respecting the hard work of this author.

For all who imagined stories in their minds and were brave enough to pen those emotions, those crazy ideas—those fantastical tales.

Preface

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In this world, there are few who can dream.

When people rest their eyes and fall into slumber, sleep is all they experience. This is the reality we find ourselves in. It wasn't always like this, but there is very little any of us can about that now. Instead, a remnant of us remains who can dream—Dreamers we call ourselves.

We are special, more than human.

A lost, dwindling race of beings that have the evolving ability to go places and experience memories when we fall asleep.

We are Dreamers.

It is time, I believe, that we let the rest of the world know this.

-Munroe Adams, 1937

Prologue

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I could feel the cold water rushing around me, enveloping me in its icy maw. I closed my eyes, opened my mouth and took in a deep breath. Instead of life-giving air rushing down my throat, I was inundated by frigid water. I could feel it spreading everywhere, locking up my body as if I'd swallowed cement.

This was my purpose.

I would fulfill it gladly, for it was what I deserved.

Though I would no longer exist in a world I'd once called home, someone else now could. A brief smile came over me as I thought of who I'd freed.

Still, the bitter, wicked part of me felt deep fear of the fate I was now destined for. As the dark, relentless waters poured into my body, I thought of the sins that had nailed me to this particular cross.

I ran out of the burning room as flames and smoke took over the house. I pressed a damp, cool cloth to my mouth, took in a breath and then used it to wipe my sweat covered forehead. Underfoot, the floorboards were catching fire as I tried to run out of the ensuing inferno.

Ahead of me, the front door was hanging by one hinge and slightly ajar.

I kicked it down, raised my pistol and stepped outside.

Words could not explain how incredible the cool night air soothed my aching, burning lungs.

I tossed the damp cloth behind me and it caught fire.

"Thomas Newman!" I stumbled down three concrete steps before I started running down his front lawn. Behind me, a portion of his roof collapsed, sending flame and smoke upwards. Sparks and embers fell on the grass around me—one of them bit my shoulder before I slapped it away.

"Thomas Newman, you cannot run from me forever." By squinting my eyes, I could see the man jogging down the road, one kid in each arm. One of them was crying loudly, while my old friend tucked the child closer to his chest.

"He won't have to."

By the time her voice had registered, a plastic truck, about the length of my arm, rammed into the side of my head. She was standing behind me, holding the toy truck in her hand, bashing it against my skull.

Admittedly, it hurt like hell.

Unfortunately for her, she'd have to do a lot more than hurt me.

"Damn it!" I rubbed my head with my free hand, groaning in pain. I frowned when I saw her terrified expression. She stood outside of her house, holding the toy truck in her grip. Without batting an eye, she came at me again, swinging.

I stepped easily out of the way, raised my gun and slammed it against her face. I heard bones snap and crunch as I hit her again, wishing that I had bullets in my gun for a quicker kill.

"I'm sorry Melissa."

Thomas' wife, her face now covered in blood, dropped the toy truck.

The sirens I'd heard a minute ago were growing louder. Neighbors were rushing out of their houses, most of them gathering on the street, watching in horror. I found it funny that these same people, thinking of me as a cruel murderer, were the people I was inadvertently saving.

Saving by killing.

Before any of them could gather up enough courage to be a hero, I picked up the unconscious woman by her neck and dragged her to the burning house. Stuffing the gun in my belt, I picked up Melissa with both hands and threw her back into her burning home.

I hesitated, saw her body catch fire and ran down the stairs. Several people, who'd been watching, were now running towards the burning house, most likely shouting at me.

I didn't stick around to see what they wanted.

I needed to find Thomas Newman and his two kids, and then I would do to them, what I did to Melissa.

I didn't like it, but they would all burn.

Chapter One

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"I can dream, Steven."

Julia lay on the soft grass, her face illuminated by the nearby flames. Propped up on her elbows, she moved closer to where her friend sat. Her eyes drifted to where the stars sat in the sky, staring down at her with white, shimmering light.

Steven, who sat beside her on his knees, raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"You have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?" She stared at the warm flames, spewing sparks into the night sky. Others sat around the fire, talking in hushed voices or staring ahead sullenly. For most of them, this was the last time they'd ever be able to do this.

Steven inched closer to her, bumping her playfully with his shoulder. "No, tell me about your dream. I'm curious about this word you've made up."

"I didn't make it up—it's just something you've never been told about."

Steven shrugged. "Guess you can't say that anymore." A smile spread over his handsome, dark face. "So what is a dream?"

Julia had been waiting to tell Steven this ever since she laid eyes on him. Though in her heart, she knew nothing but trouble would come of it, something else was drawing her to spill her darkest of secrets. It was as if the narrator of her life had suddenly erased her routine, sharpened their pencil and wrote a new chapter of her life. She was helpless—like a character in a novel—her attraction to Steven was something that transcended infatuation.

It was only fair, if she was to give herself completely to him, that he knew everything.

Well, most of everything.

Since this was her final night at camp, time was running out.

"A dream Steven," she put her lips up to his ear, whispering to him, "is a new world. When you close your eyes and sleep, you simply sleep. There is nothing. When I sleep, I go into new worlds, or old memories."

Steven's eyes widened, and then narrowed almost simultaneously. "You should let me dream with you then. I'm having a hard time believing you." His tone was teasing, yet curious.

Could he ever believe her?

Julia didn't think so.

"Maybe. Some night, I'll have to show you my dreams."

Steven grinned. "I would like that very much." He poked her in the side, chuckling. Wiping a strand of dark brown hair out of his sharp blue eyes, he stared back out into the stars. "Perhaps, if you're not too busy dreaming, would you like to join me later tonight?" He pointed to the island on the other side of the lake their camp was situated on.

Julia held her breath, while her stomach filled with butterflies. The corner of her lips raised into a smile. "I promised I would." She leaned in to him again, resting her head against his comfortable, broad shoulders.

"Good." He put his arm around her, "I want this night to be memorable."

Julia had no doubt that it would be.

However, she feared it was for different reasons than Steven suspected.

There are certain times in life that causes one to wish the moment would never end. Flashes of happiness so earth-shaking and euphoric that no second is too negligible.

Steven Walker sat at his kitchen table, staring straight ahead. His mouth dipped into a frown. His eyes drooped, and then clamped shut before more tears could stream down his face. He coughed violently enough for his face to go a crimson red and the tears to flow more steadily.

A mug of coffee sat dejectedly in front of him, steam rising out of its open maw.

He reached for it with hesitant fingers, wrapping them gingerly around the mug's handle.

For Steven, his moment had already passed.

That night, he'd arrived at his home in Winnipeg.

He'd spent the better part of two days driving back home from Alberta with his father. In Alberta, he'd been at camp for a week and a half. Hope Springs Bible Camp was its name—and he'd been attending the camp annually for nearly a decade.

Each summer, before his father got sick, the two of them would drive across the country to spend all of August at the camp. Steven would go as a camper, his father was the speaker. In his younger years, his father's job was to speak about his Christian beliefs to the hundred or so kids that came up to the camp every week of summer. He would tell them of their need for a savior and that they needed to become Christians.

Back then, Steven had wholeheartedly agreed with his father. He'd grown up a Christian, was taught the Bible, and told to pray each morning and night. Whenever they went to camp, he would sit with the rest of the kids, listening to his father's words. While most of the kids goofed off, he would sit attentively, soaking in what his father had to say.

"Oh my God, when is this going to be over?" One of his best friends had exclaimed once during chapel when his father was speaking. Turning to Steven, he laughed, "Ugh, your father is so boring!"

Steven only stared back at him, unsure of whether to laugh along or be offended.

It was the first time he'd wondered about his Christian beliefs.

The summer that came after that one, was the first summer where Steven began to act out in chapel. He'd talk with his friends, have his mind wander or he'd sleep. His father, who still spoke with such fiery conviction and passion, would occasionally glance at his son, a shadow darkening on his face.

One night, three summers ago, Steven had been walking out of the chapel with his friends. The cool night air wrapped around him, bringing with it hordes of mosquitoes. Before he could run off to the cabins to flee the ravaging insects, his father called out to him. Standing at the doors to the chapel, a Bible in his arms, he waited for his son with a frown. "Steven," he swallowed nervously, his eyes drifting to the ground, "is... is everything alright?"

It had been the first words he'd spoken to his son in months.

His lips stubbornly lifted into a smile at the sound of his father's voice. He kicked at the gravel path with his sandal-adorned foot. "Yeah, I'm alright." Chuckling nervously, he searched his father's eyes, but found they couldn't meet his own. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"You seem, um, distracted in chapel. I—never mind." His clear blue eyes finally met Steven's. He awkwardly raised his hand, putting it on his son's shoulders before squeezing them limply. "It's nothing. You can run along, I'm sorry." Turing back, he ducked into the chapel.

"Oh." Steven didn't remember what he did next, but he could recall with certainty the pain and anger that had rippled through his heart. He could imagine himself clenching his fists and turning around swiftly, going after his friends. His father, who rarely spoke to him, couldn't even say more than two things to him. It was a reminder of how much his father hated him.

Though for a second, he'd wondered if his father did actually care.

Now, three years later, his father sat on the opposite side of their kitchen table. With his own mug of steaming, hot coffee, he stared out the window. Wrinkles lined his face like scribbled notes on a piece of paper. Red, swollen eyes held at their centre crisp, blue irises. A bulky sweater overcompensated for his frail, weakening form. A toque covered his bald head.

The two of them sat in awkward silence, surrounded by the luggage they'd just finished dragging out of their car. A spinning fan watched them from above, circulating the warm, muggy air. At the centre of the table, a fishbowl held an upside down fish, floating in green, rank water.

Both of their eyes landed on the fishbowl.

Steven smiled faintly, wiping his face of a few stray tears. "I guess we know what we forgot to do before we left. Poor Sushi." 'Sushi' was the name of the fish that had been one of numerous 'cancer gifts'. Not that it was a very thoughtful gift—who would give a pet that died easily to an already dying man?

They didn't need a reminder that life was short.

He took a sip of his coffee.

His father broke out into a coughing fit.

The fish continued to lie on its back, staring at Steven with dark, lifeless eyes.

This summer he'd only gone to Hope Springs Bible Camp for a week and a half. For the rest of summer, his father had been too sick to go out and speak at the camp. His doctor had ordered that he get as much rest as possible. "It's funny," his father had remarked to Steven one afternoon after an appointment, "they want to keep me alive, by taking away my life. I know they said it was a bad idea, but we're going to camp for at least a week this summer. I might not be able to speak there, but I can't waste what little life I have left lying in a hospital bed."

Steven wasn't sure if he agreed with his father. Yes, the treatments and procedures had done very little to stop his father's spreading cancer, but there was always hope. Steven hadn't given up hope that a miracle could happen. And if lying in a hospital bed could prolong his life, than why not give it a chance?

All one could do was prolong their life.

There was a brief vibration in his pocket. Steven dug into his pocket, retrieved his phone and saw that someone had texted him. With a smile, he saw that it was Julia.

He still remembered talking with her on their last night. Her beautiful face, warmed by the firelight, was forever imprinted in his memory. It was the kind of beauty that a man saw once or twice in his life—the gorgeousness that transcended mere physical attractiveness.

Only, at the moment, he found it more of a tragedy—for she was now thousands of kilometers away. Most likely, she was lying in her bed, phone in hand. Perhaps even drinking her own mug of coffee.

Without camp, their lives would never have intersected.

Julia's text message read, "I'm going to miss you". There were no abbreviations or numbers replacing words in her text. She'd told him at camp with a sly smile, 'I don't understand how people can be so poor in their spelling. To me, nothing is more attractive than a grammatically correct sentence.' Steven had laughed aloud at that.

"Miss you more," read his reply. Closing down his phone, he took a gulp of his cooling coffee. Despite the pain tugging at his heart, his mouth couldn't resist but turn into a large smile. Even her words on a screen could cause chemistry to swirl up like crazy inside his chest.

"Who was that?" His father spoke for the first time that evening, his eyebrows raised.

"A friend," he stared at his father, unsure if he should say anything more. "Just a friend." Slipping the phone into his pocket, he sighed loudly. His eyes began to close again, this time not to stop the tears, but because he'd spent the previous night texting Julia all night. Weariness spread over him like a blanket, holding him tightly in its warm, comforting grip.

Although he still had a lot of unpacking to do, he'd save it for the morning.

"I'm going to bed," he slid off his chair and gulped down the remainder of his java. "I'll help with unpacking tomorrow, alright?"

His father grunted a reply, and then sipped his coffee. Placing the mug back on the counter, he resumed staring out the window, where all that could be seen was a street lined with houses. A car's headlights briefly shone into the window as their neighbor eased his way into his driveway.

Steven put his mug in the sink before sauntering down the hall and up the stairs. Once he reached his room, he closed the door and plopped on his bed. Though only a few sheets were what was left to dress up his bed, he didn't have the energy to unpack his blankets and pillows. Instead, he slid under the sheets, took off his clothes and used his sweater and shirt as a pillow.

His phone fell out of his jeans pocket and onto the floor.

He remembered what Julia had told him about these things she called 'dreams'. Ridiculous. How could anyone do anything more than sleep when their eyes closed and consciousness fell away? He'd never heard of anything like that before.

Still, he had to admit it would be pretty cool.

As his eyes closed and he drifted off to sleep, he wondered what it would be like to dream.

"Steven!"

His eyes opened, and then snapped shut as relentless rays of light pierced his blue eyes.

He could hear whoever had called his name running towards him.

As the veil of sleep slipped away, Steven opened his eyes once more. Wincing from the sunlight, he rubbed the gunk from his eyelashes.

Where there should've been a ceiling, was instead a blue, cloud-dotted sky. A glimmering, yellow sun began to dip behind a bank of clouds. In the distance, he could see a flock of birds soaring towards the horizon.

"Steven!"

This time he knew whose voice it was calling him.

"Julia?" He paused for a long moment to stare with wide eyes at his strange surroundings. Lifting his head off the soft, green grass, he saw Julia's pace slow as she approached him. "No... This isn't happening." He mumbled, trying to get to his feet.

Her turquoise eyes filled with fear for a split-second before a smile took over. She brushed a strand of brown hair from her eyes, kneeling beside Steven. "You're here."

Steven laughed, and then shook his head in disbelief. "Here? Where is here? I was just in my warm bed a few seconds ago—I don't understand what's going on." He reached out to touch her pale skin, and lightly held her gorgeous face with his fingertips. Tracing her cheek, he laughed aloud again. "I can't believe I'm seeing you again."

Smiling, she slowly got to her feet and offered him a hand. "You're in my dreams, Steven. I don't know how it happened, but you're here."

"Your dreams?" Steven took her hand, relishing how warm and delicate it was in his firm grip. Letting go, he stared deep into her eyes, too amazed to say much more than that. He looked at the valley that flourished around them. "How?"

"I don't know Steven." She met his gaze, blushed and dropped her stare. Drawing closer to him, she smiled in her intoxicating way.

"Are you sure? That last night we were together, you told me about your dreams. Are you sure you have no idea how I got here? I mean before you, I hadn't even heard about these things called 'dreams'." Steven raised an eyebrow, folding his arms over his chest.

"It's a gift Steven—but that means it was given to me, so I don't have your answers. No one else in my family can dream, I'm the only one." Her eyes drifted to the right, then went back to meet his. Smiling warmly, she came even closer. "I don't know why I'm different, or how you got the gift as well. All I know is that I would've had to wait more than a year to see you again, and now, here you are."

Julia pressed her body against his, her turquoise eyes locked onto his. Her purple nightgown clung to her thin, short form. With a smile, she leaned her face close to his. "We can be together," she whispered, her hands wrapping over his neck. "We can see each other every time we fall asleep."

Saying nothing, Steven took her in his arms, his heart racing. Despite the hundreds of questions racing through his mind, all he wanted to do was hold her tight and never let go. To kiss her with all the passion he could muster. What if this was the last time?

Closing his eyes, their lips met and he kissed her gently.

She kissed him back, adding passion before he stepped back. A surprised, dopey smile hung on his lips, while she also stepped back. He remembered the last time they kissed, when they were in the canoe together, watched only by a distant, bright moon.

That's when he promised, no matter what happened, they would always love one another. He'd known that since they lived nearly a thousand kilometers apart, keeping that promise would be difficult. When she was in her home in Camrose, and he was in his house in Winnipeg, he'd feared that he would never hear from her again.

Distance was a hard issue to deal with—he'd never considered having a long distance relationship. She'd been worth it though—that week and a half had been the happiest of his life. Despite his own many insecurities and failings, Julia had accepted his love.

"So what is this place then?" Steven glanced around him, soaking in the beautiful, magnificent nature that surrounded them. Mountains soared to a crystal, blue sky on either side of the valley, coated in a drizzle of white, frigid ice. The cold, quiet mountains were a striking contrast to the warm, alive valley which lay at the peaks toes.

For endless kilometers the landscape flowed in opposite directions down the valley, covered in green, softly waving grass. Only, on one end of the valley, there was a slight dip into the purple, dark waters of an expansive lake.

However wondrous the vistas were, Steven admitted that they were all strange to him. He'd never been in a place similar to this one. If dreams, like Julia said, were based on past experiences and sights, why was this place so alien?

"This place? Well, I think I used to come here when I was younger. Not this place exactly of course. This is more a variation of the park I used to visit with my family in the Rockies." Julia looked around, smiling sadly. "I've been here before."

She took her hand in his, grinning. "Here, let me show you around."

Together they walked through the lush valley, marveling at the trees that branched up into the clouds, their leaves an array of colors. Other trees curved downwards, their branches going back into the ground, before sprouting up again, boasting of deep, emerald green leaves. Small, furry creatures ran throughout the trees, some of them hesitantly approaching Steven and Julia, before scampering off.

"So what else do you dream of?" He bent down, picking a bright, luminescent flower from the ground. Small thorns covered its base, one of which pricked his thumb. Instead of pain, he felt a cool, eerie sensation spreading throughout his hand. Dropping the flower, he gaped at his hand, which was shaking ever-so-slightly.

Julia let go of his unwounded hand, and took the other. Massaging it tenderly, she smiled in the way a mother does to a child who has made a silly mistake. "There is no pain in my dreams—not the physical kind anyways. You're not physically here, remember?"

The shaking stopped, but Steven left the flower to wilt on the grass.

"How come it feels so real?"

Julia went back to the flower, scooped it up and broke off the stem where the thorns were. Smelling the flower, she offered it to Steven. "It is real. When you wake up tomorrow, you will remember every moment of this dream. Dreams, to me, are just as real as anything else. It's a paradise, an escape."

Steven smelled the flower, taking in its lovely, fruity fragrance. It smelled like no other flower he'd smelled before. "You didn't answer my question before: what else do you dream of?"

Julia grabbed his hand again, curling her fingers around his. "I dream of different places, sometimes memories. Other times, the dreams don't make any sense." She paused, swallowing nervously. "Sometimes they frighten me."

"Frighten you?"

"I don't know what they are—but there are others in my dream. They aren't like you and me—we belong here." She held his hand tighter. "I'd rather not talk about them."

"Okay," Steven gestured at the purple, shimmering lake. "Race you there."

Letting go of her hand, he jogged towards the water. Laughing, Julia ran past him and he picked up the pace. The grass underfoot turned into sand as they held hands and ran into the cool waters. He dove under the surface, opened his eyes and saw it was just as incredible under the water as it was in the valley.

Julia followed him, diving down with him towards the purple, glowing sand. There was no pain in his lungs as they ran out of air, nor was there a growing pressure as he swam deeper. Turning to Julia, he saw that she was opening her mouth, and breathing in the water.

Her words came as clear to him as if she'd spoken them in the valley. "Breathe Steven!" She laughed as he shook his head, clamping his lips shut. "C'mon," she poked him in the side, grinning. "Trust me; you can breathe in these waters. I've done it lots before."

Although it was against everything he'd ever been taught, Steven closed his eyes and opened his mouth. Warm water gushed in, tasting sugary and delicious.

"Breathe, Steven." Julia floated in front of his face, holding his hands gingerly. "Please."

Nodding his head, Steven swallowed the water, but found that breathing was impossible. His mind, even in the dream, wasn't letting him surrender to faith. "I'm sorry," he murmured, swallowing the water, before gagging and panicking. The water was furiously gushing into his mouth, down his throat and breathing tube.

No pain.

Just pure, raw panic.

"Breathe, Steven." Julia held onto his hand, smiling reassuringly.

Steven did breathe; quickly in and out the water filled his lungs, but did not make him feel any different. It was as if he was breathing air, only, he could taste and feel the air more strongly. "Wow."

"I know." Julia started swimming deeper and deeper, leading Steven towards a shadowy, dark thing resting on the bottom of the lake. It was indiscernible from this distance, but the more they swam towards it, the more he could make of it.

"What is it?"

"It's a wreck, I think." Julia turned to him with a sheepish smile. "I was always too scared to see what it was. Now that you're here," she squeezed his hand, "I want to see it."

"Them?"

"I saw one here once, just walking on the bottom of the lake." Julia's eyes darkened as they reached the sea floor. She scooped a handful of glowing, purple sand. The grains ran through her fingers, swirling into a cloud. "It doesn't matter though, you're here."

Steven cast an uneasy glance at the sunken ship. "I hope you're right."

"C'mon. Let me show you."

Together they swam towards the sunken ship, exploring the rotting hull and entering inside through a gaping hole. Using the glowing sand, the interior of the ship was slightly illuminated. However, there wasn't much to see.

Swimming further into the ship, didn't reveal anything more to see. Steven pointed at a ragged hole leading to the ship's main deck. Taking her hand in his, he led her upwards, through the lower decks and up and out of the portal. For the first time, he saw a school of small, c-shaped fish swimming around them.

"Look at them," Steven cupped a few of them in his hand. Opening his hands a bit, he peered at the lazy, content fish as they made no move to escape their confines. Fearless. "Amazing."

Steven let the fish go, swam to the far side of the deck and held onto the wooden railing. There, etched into the wooden planks, was a strange name. As if someone had taken a knife and carved his name into it. "Markus Anderson," was the name carved into the ship. Steven blinked, trying to recall if he'd heard that name before.

Just as he was about to ask Julia about it, she swam up to him with wide eyes. "We have to leave now!"

"What happened?" Steven swam away from the ship, trying to keep up with her frantic pace. "Julia!"

She didn't answer him; instead, she rushed upwards, away from the ship and towards the surface of the lake.

Steven glanced behind him, his eyes widening when he saw what they were swimming away from. Standing beside the ship, a shadowy figure watched them go. Folding its arms over its chest, it walked into the ship.

"Who was that?"

"Them!" Julia shouted as she broke the surface of the water.

Steven burst out of the water, saw that they were a distance from the shore and began swimming towards it. Julia slowed her pace down, but her face was locked in a blank, wide-eyed expression. She didn't say anything more until they were both sitting on the sand, staring out at the lake.

Breathing hard, Julia curled up closer to Steven. He put an arm over her shoulder, keeping her close. He shivered, not from the cool water, but from how eerie the figure at the bottom of the lake was. As if the two of them were trespassers and the figure was reminding them of where they were.

Of course, he had no idea what had actually happened—he would ask Julia, but her lips were sealed shut and she kept her head snuggled up to his shoulder.

"It didn't seem to want to hurt us."

"I know."

"Why did we swim away then?"

"Because," Julia stared deep into his eyes, her face deadly serious. "There are some things worse than pain. I know who they are—I know what they want. You have to promise me, Steven, that you will stay far away from them."

Steven searched her face, frowning. "Why can't you just tell me who they are?"

"Ignorance is bliss, as the cliché goes. Trust me, Steven. Sometimes there are better things than the truth. If I told you about them, everything would change. For now, you just have to trust me when I say stay far away from them. They are dangerous."

There was a moment for Steven that made him want to say 'no'. Fear built up inside at her ominous words. When he looked at her face, however, he saw how much she yearned for him to trust her. His heart broke; he couldn't hurt someone who cared so much for him.

His head dipped, a thin smile spread on his face. "I trust you."

Julia didn't return the smile. "Thank you, Steven."

Steven got to his feet, helped her up and they walked side by side away from the lake. Overhead, the blue sky darkened as the sun descended past the horizon. Stars dotted the sky, much brighter and colorful than the ones in reality.

Breaking the silence, Steven spoke up. "Will I come back here again?" He could slowly feel the world around him slipping away. The horizon, past the expanse of purple, sparkling water, was beginning to blur. "I don't want to say goodbye to you again." Inside, pain erupted tangibly at the prospect of letting her go. Of course, back in reality, he could text or call her; but it wasn't the same. Nothing could compare to dreaming with her.

"I don't know Steven," Julia turned to face him, her eyes dropping mournfully. "I wasn't sure if I would see you here tonight."

"So you thought that maybe I would show up?"

"I did wonder," a pause, her eyes momentarily flickered to the right. "But I do hope I can see you again." Again, there was a moment's hesitation before she made that statement. "I love you."

"I love you more." Steven felt a shake inside, while his eyesight dimmed. Above, the stars began to fade into darkness.

"Steven!" Julia cried out as he fell to his knees, then was knocked over completely.

In a collage of sights, sounds and emotions, Steven tumbled into a dark pit, his arms flailing. Above him, he could see a portion of the dream, with Julia reaching out to him, her beautiful turquoise eyes releasing tears.

Closing his eyes, Steven found that he had landed on a soft, comfortable surface.

When he opened his eyes, he saw that he was back in his bedroom. Covered in sheets and lying in a warm, comfortable bed.

He was back.

Or awake.

Steven lifted the sheets off himself, unable to go back to sleep after such an insane, emotional night. As he thought back on the dream, he was realizing that his life had completely changed. Everything he'd been taught from a child was wrong. There was more to life than what he'd ever believed before.

Dreams.

He wondered if there was anyone else who had done what he'd just done. Laughing, he shook his head in amazement. "Incredible," he could still feel her lips against his, her arms wrapped around his neck. It had been far more exhilarating than any experience in reality.

Now it didn't matter that she lived so far away. Although at first he'd been kicking himself for giving his heart to girl that lived two provinces away, he now rejoiced. She was amazing, special. Not only was she gifted, but she'd been one of the first girls to truly fall in love with him. To kiss him with such passion.

He'd been 'in love' before, though it was nothing compared to how he felt now.

Getting out of bed, he put on a robe and to clear his mind, he went out to his veranda. From the second story of his house, he got an excellent view of his neighborhood, which was dotted with large, cookie-cutter style houses. A strong, comforting breeze rolled over him.

"Oh Julia." He leaned against the railing of his balcony, staring up at the stars. "I can't wait to see you again." If this was true love, he was sure that he could last in it forever. Sweat beaded his brow, all he wanted to do was go back to sleep and see her again. His heart ached, burned for her.

All he could think about was Julia.

"Oh, am I in trouble."

Chapter Two

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"Some people deserve the trust we give them—others seem to take it. Abuse it. Break it. I guess you should just leave, and not add insult to injury." Cerise Thiessen read the words aloud from a note she found crumpled up on her boyfriend's bed. Smiling sadly, she smoothed the piece of paper with her fingers, folded it, and placed it back in her pocket.

Perhaps she would use the note again.

Stepping over articles of used clothing, books, movies and a plate filled with crumbs, she made her way to a desk in the corner of the room. Covered in coffee mugs, papers and a closed laptop, she sat at her boyfriend's desk. She brushed aside some of the clutter, and found her phone lying under an opened book.

"Here we are." Taking the cell, she saw that it was dead and sighed. All those texts she likely missed would have to wait. Putting the phone in her pocket, she sat at her boyfriend's desk and relaxed in his chair.

Two nights before her boyfriend had gone to visit his cousins in Alberta, she'd spent the night in his room. He was the only one who lived in his apartment, while her parents thought she was spending the night with her best friend, Andrea.

She'd made the mistake of leaving her cell behind.

She thought back on their goodbye at the airport.

"I got you the coffee," she handed him the cup of coffee, flinching as his fingers touched hers when he took the java. Sipping from her own cup, she took a seat beside him in the terminal. Her hands rested on her lap, holding her coffee tightly.

"Thanks." He opened the lid, pressed the drink to his lips, but didn't sip from it. Frowning, he put the drink down with a sigh. "Cerise... I really don't want to leave you like this. I won't be able to enjoy my week if you're still mad at me."

Cerise sipped from her coffee, but made no reply.

"Cerise."

"I'm sorry I'll be ruining your trip as well. It's what I seem to do."

He sighed, "Not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean? You just want me to make you feel better by us making up? You really think that's how it works? That we can just pretend nothing happened? That I'll be the doting girlfriend and make everything good for you—"

"Stop." He got out of his seat, taking his luggage with him. "Just stop talking, okay? I don't want another damn fight."

"You don't get to decide that, when you do what you did." Cerise got up as well, handing him another bag. "You don't get to decide anything after last week."

He took the bag from her, his eyes icy and cold. "So what do you want me from then? I've apologized profusely. I've done so much to make everything alright, but you still act like you hate me."

"That's because I do." Cerise took her coffee, and followed him towards security.

"Wow."

She lowered her eyes, shutting them to stop a stray tear from coming loose. "Sorry. I'm just not sure how I feel about this anymore, okay? You can't do what you did, and then expect me to be in love with you. It's going to take a long time."

"I made a mistake."

"We all do." Cerise sighed heavily, wiped her eyes clear. "But it's what we do after those mistakes that define us. And right now—you're not making it better."

He threw out his coffee before turning to face her one last time. "I love you Cerise, and believe it or not, I'm actually trying really hard. I don't want this to be what ruins our relationship. I did slip up, but I can get back up again. You're just going to have to trust me."

"I don't though." Cerise stepped back from him, turning her face. "Have a good trip."

"Cerise," he reached out with his free hand, putting it on her shoulder. With warm, desperate fingers, he tried to turn her around. She sighed, relaxed and let him pull her back. Breathing another sigh, she looked up at her boyfriend.

"Please just let me go. You have a plane to catch."

"You have to know how sorry I am, Cerise. Please. I need you to trust me that nothing like that will ever happen again. We've both done really stupid things, and said hurtful stuff, but in the end, we're still together. We're meant to be, Cerise. I love you, and I don't deserve it, but you love me as well."

Cerise only stared up at him, biting her lower lip. "Goodbye Nathan." She put her arms around him, holding him close. Inside, she was fighting off the anger and revulsion as he put his own arms around her, drawing her in. She could feel his heart pounding.

"Goodbye Cerise." His eyes locked onto hers.

She took his hand, squeezed it, but let go before anything more could happen.

"Bye. Hope you have a great trip." Her voice was beginning to break; she swallowed her sob before it could be fully realized. Walking briskly away, she felt his eyes on her back, watching her go.

Now, two days later, she was back in his room.

She had her own key to the apartment.

Sitting at his desk, she thought back to his pleas that the incident wouldn't happen again. Closing her eyes, she recalled what had happened the week before.

"Cerise! Let me explain, please!" He'd sat up in his bed, his arms stretched out towards her. His eyes, filling with regret as much as with shame, locked onto hers. For a second, she held his gaze, and then dropped it, filled with revulsion for someone she had once felt tremendous love for.

"Why?" She stood at the foot of his bed, staring at the horrific discovery. Her question lingered in the air, though she already knew the answer. Why did anyone cheat? It wasn't so much that she wanted an answer; it was just all she could think to say. There was no good explanation anyways.

"I don't know, Cerise!" He was trying to get out of bed. "Please let's just talk!"

A tear spilled out from her eyes, trailing down her face. "I trusted you! You think that you can explain any of this?" More tears came, which she was helpless to oppose.

"Please Cerise, I love you!" His face, which was usually handsome and smiling, was twisted in horror. At his side, another girl, only half-dressed, kept quiet. She pulled on her shirt, which he'd previously been holding in his hand, just as Cerise had entered the room.

"You don't love me."

She turned and fled the room, slamming the door behind her. She never heard it close; instead, she could hear his footsteps sounding behind her. "Please, give me another chance!" Gone, she noticed, were his pleas to explain away the situation.

Turning around, she gave her head a shake. "Stop it, please just go away." Pausing, she couldn't stop the tears that wet her cheek and the sobs that shook her voice. To her horror, she saw that he was going to brush them away. "Don't! Stop it..." her voice broke as she flinched away.

His eyes, which were softening, suddenly narrowed. Frowning, he grimaced. "Fine." Turning away, his hulking frame went back down the hall, towards the room where the girl was.

He'd actually listened to her—and that brought her heart the most pain.

Clenching her fists, Cerise stopped thinking about that heartbreaking moment. Instead, she took in a nervous breath, opening her boyfriend's laptop. There was something inside that though she was scared to find out, needed to anyways. She couldn't trust to get the truth from him anymore.

Taking in a calming breath, she turned on his laptop and waited a few minutes for it turn on. She took out the note again, unfolding the paper and re-reading it with teary eyes. It was a poem that she'd written a year ago. It wasn't about him, instead, it was a poem she'd written and needed some feedback on.

Now, looking at the ending lines, she saw how fitting it was that he'd kept it and read it.

Typing in the password, Cerise's heart skipped a beat when she saw it was the correct one. Her eyes widened, and then shut after seeing what lay on his computer. Unhidden—disgusting. "Why," she slammed the laptop shut, letting the tears flow unashamedly. What she found on that laptop confirmed that her boyfriend was still lying to her.

Standing up, she resisted the urge to call her boyfriend right now and end it all.

How dare he ask for trust?

Going to his bed, she sat on it, covering her face with her hands. The tears wouldn't stop coming. Her heart felt as if it had been thrown into a blender and ripped to pieces. Nothing would ever make it alright. No amount of apologies could ever make right the damage that had been done.

For a long while she sat on his bed, waiting for the tears to stop flowing.

She knew what she would have to do when he came back from Alberta. Wiping away the final tears, she got out of his bed, and felt the edge of something scrape against her ankle. Wincing, she saw that a corner of a box was peeping out from under his bed.

She pulled it out and looked at the contents.

The tears returned.

"I remember you," Cerise lay in her hospital bed, smiling at the young man who stood at her bedside. "Nathan. I missed you." She reached out an arm, which still had an IV inserted into her vein. He took her hand, caressing it as he took a seat on a nearby chair.

"Can I have a seat?"

"Of course you can." Cerise tried to lift her head; however the pain was too strong for that. So she tilted her face to the side, staring intently at her boyfriend as he watched her. "You don't have to worry, Nathan, I'll be fine."

"I can't help but worry." He brushed a strand of hair from her forehead. Kissing her softly, he whispered in her ear. "I love you."

Cerise, who was remembering the first time Nathan said "I love you", stopped herself from anymore reminiscing. Although it was one of the happiest moments of her life, she was in the middle of the mall and the last thing she wanted was to break down.

Heaving a sigh, she tried to think about who she would be talking with in a few minutes.

With her purse slung over her shoulder, she walked down the hall of a crowded mall. People, all of them strangers, regarded her for the most part, the way that everyone did. Either too busy or preoccupied with their own doings and conversations, they ignored her, or some boys would stare at her a little too long, while she could see the envious looks from some of the girls.

It was the same everywhere she went.

A small vibration came from somewhere in her purse; moving to the side of the hall, beside a busy store, she retrieved her phone. Dread welled up inside at the thought of Nathan texting her, however relief flooded her when she saw it was from her mom.

Nathan, who'd been in Alberta for the past two days, hadn't texted her once since their terse goodbye at the airport. She'd done the same, especially after being in his room and discovering what she did that morning.

Ignoring her mom's text, frowning slightly, she set out towards the food court in the centre of the mall.

Striding past a cluster of young, chattering teenagers, Cerise came to a gathering of tables, chairs and food trays. A smattering of customers, devouring whatever fast food they'd chosen to satisfy their palette, occupied the small area devoted to eating.

A smile grew on her face at the sight of one of those customers.

He sat at an empty table, looking at her.

He was impossible to miss.

As usual, and though she hated it, pity overtook her. Smiling to compensate for the sadness that crept upon her, she waved her hand. He waved back, smiled in his own way and waited for her.

She weaved in and around the tables and chairs, approaching him with an amiable smile, which he tried to return. "Hey," she took off her purse, looping it around the back of her chair. "Sorry I took so long."

"Not a problem."

Cerise smiled, glancing at his face with a raised eyebrow. "It's starting to look better."

"If you say so." Chuckling, he ran his fingers over the lower half of his face. Red, gruesome scars covered his lower face from ear to ear, covering half of his mouth. His birth father, whoever he was, had been incredibly neglectful of Drake as a baby. By the time he got to the orphanage, the scars were already there. His adoptive parents did what they could, but nothing hid the hideous scars that ran up and down his face.

"I'm serious," Cerise reached out, touching his lower face. "You can hardly feel them."

"Thanks." He stared uncomfortably at the table, tapping his fingers on the edge. "So you're ready for school tomorrow?"

"No." She let out a laugh, knowing that he was just teasing her since he loved school. He was one of those students that got high marks without even trying. However, he did try hard at school and astounded most teachers with his academic success. "I'm guessing you're pretty pumped?"

"Yes, unlike you, I appreciate the opportunity we have to learn." His mouth broke out into a thin smile, which was as large as he could manage to open his lips.

"That's because you're a genius. I couldn't get your marks even if I wanted to." Cerise had never ceased to disappoint her teachers with marks that just barely got her from one grade to the next.

"You're pretty smart yourself, trust me. Anyways, it's the last year."

"Yeah. One more year of immature stupid boys and hormonal shallow girls. And the drama," she let out an exaggerated sigh, "can't flipping wait to graduate."

Drake shrugged, "I'd savor this year honestly. It's our last year before real life sets in and everything changes. High school's rough at times, but in some ways it's much better than real life. This is the year we can be the most carefree."

"University still sounds so much better." Cerise knew that she'd have a hard time getting into some courses with her marks, but that wouldn't be much of a problem for her line of studying. If she had her way, she'd become a hair stylist or makeup artist. No math, no English, and no science involved.

"University sounds great, but I wouldn't be in such a hurry to grow up." Drake shifted in his seat, his eyes drifting to a crowd of people standing nearby. Cerise caught them out of the corner of her eyes, seeing that one of them was gaping at Drake.

Frowning, she felt pity rise up inside. "How do you put up with that?"

"Put up with what?" Drake smiled knowingly, meeting her gaze with warm brown eyes. "People are all the same, Cerise. They will always stare or ignore. Just how it is, so there's nothing to put up with."

"I would get tired of it."

"The way I see it, you either do everything you can to hide your scars or do everything you can to defend them. Or you just live with them. I don't pretend they're not there, but at the same time, I don't care that they are." Drake traced his scar with his finger, smiling softly. "Besides, they've helped me more than you know."

"What does that mean?" Cerise couldn't imagine any good coming from such a deformity.

"Nothing." He tilted his head to the side, where a Booster Juice stand sat against the wall. "Do you want to get smoothies? My treat."

"How can I say no to that?" Smiling, she got out of her chair. "Thanks." Together they walked over to the smoothie stand, getting in line behind several others. Standing in line, she noticed how some of the other customers glanced behind them, now completely ignoring her and shifting their attention to Drake. Instead of the jealousy or approval, she could see shock, sometimes disgust, often pity.

Cerise caught one of their stares, returning it with a scowl.

Drake just stood at her side, a content expression on his face.

"So how has your summer been so far?" She asked as they stepped closer to the counter.

"Oh, it's been pretty good."

"Haven't seen you at work that much anymore." It had been a year now that she'd been working at the nearby Superstore. She'd been a cashier; Drake had been working in grocery. She still remembered seeing him for the first time, when he was the only one who volunteered to collect the carts from the parking lot on a stormy afternoon. The others laughed at his willingness to help out, but Cerise found it admirable.

She recalled him coming back into the store, dripping wet from the rain. Their eyes met and he put up a hand. "Hey, you're Cerise, right?" He put out a hand, smiling in his own way at her. Though she was startled by his scars, she did her best to only stare at his eyes. Taking his hand, she held it warmly.

"I am. You're Drake?"

"The one and only," he let go of her hand, "nice to meet you, Cerise."

She wiped her wet hands on her yoga pants, "You're crazy to be out there." Giggling, she stared out the window, watching debris fly in the wind and rain. "But thanks, I'm the new girl, and they probably would've made me do it."

"Oh you know it." Laughing, he made his way past her, giving his soaking hair a shake. "Nice talking to you, see you around Cerise." He walked towards the back of the store, smiling and greeting customers as he walked.

Unlike every other guy she'd met in the store, Drake had mostly left her alone. He'd been kind though, not shy or selfish, just oddly uninterested. As the weeks turned to months, and nearly every guy in the store had asked her out, Drake kept his distance. One day, when they were both left to close down the store with the manger, Phil, she approached him.

"Need help with that?" Cerise walked up to Drake as he was covering the deli bunker's with lids. She picked up a blue, scratched up lid, placing it overtop the freezer.

"You didn't wait for my answer," smiling, he handed her one. "I'd love help. Joel left early, so I'm stuck cleaning up the entire department."

"Joel would." She put on another freezer lid. "So what are your plans tonight, Drake?"

He picked up another lid, held it and cast Cerise a worried look. "Studying for my biology test on Monday."

"Oh." Cerise felt a stab of disappointment at the opportunity he'd just passed up. Why didn't he want to get with her? Trying again, she swallowed her pride and straight out asked him, "Do you want to go out for coffee tonight?"

Drake swiveled, the freezer lid still in hand. Smiling warmly, he placed the lid over the freezer and nodded his head. "Actually, I would. Tim Horton's is just nearby; I could use a break from studying."

That night, Cerise found one of her closest friends. They talked the entire night, which consisted of him listening attentively to her pouring out her heart. Ever since that night, he'd been the one person she could really talk with.

Now, as they stood in line for smoothies, she only wished she could be that friend to Drake. She wanted to be someone he could go to for help, but they both knew their relationship wasn't like that. She was the one with faults—the one in need of saving. She couldn't last without Drake, but he could certainly survive without her.

Drake answered her question, "I've been really busy lately. Without any further elaboration, he went up to the counter and ordered their smoothies. A few minutes later they were both walking back to their table, smoothies in hand.

Taking a seat at their original table, Cerise thanked him again for the smoothies. Brushing aside her hair, she took a sip and commented on how amazing it was. Smiling, Drake conceded that his was equally as delicious.

Drake took a loud sip from his beverage, chuckling as some heads turned.

Cerise smiled, "Can I try yours?" She handed him her drink and he gave her his.

"That's pretty good." Drake slid the drink over to the table to where she sat.

She took a sip from his, cringing as it was a little too sour for her tastes. "Not bad."

"So you say," chuckling, his eyes hardened as he brought up a question hesitantly. "If you don't want to talk about it, that's fine. But I have to ask about Nathan. What you told me, do you know what you're going to do?"

"No."

"Want some free advice, then?"

"No, I like to pay for my advice." Grinning, she rolled her eyes and laughed deprecatingly. "Of course I want to hear your advice."

Sighing, Drake held her gaze. "You have to break up with him."

"I wish it was that easy." Cerise played with a strand of her curly auburn hair. "But I've been with him for almost a year now—I love him. At the same time," she thought of what she discovered in his room and recoiled, "I can't love such a monster."

"I've never been in love Cerise, so I have no idea what it's like to let someone go." Taking her hand in his, he held on tightly. "Nathan, however, doesn't deserve you. It may not be easy, but you have to let him go. Someone like that's only going to bring you down."

"I know." Cerise took her hands from his grip, staring at the table across from them. A couple sat at the table, sipping from the same drink. Their hands were intertwined, while she was staring into his eyes with a fierce adoration she had lost over the months for Nathan. The happiness the couple exuded was a stark contrast to the misery her relationship had dived into.

Drake saw what she was looking at and put his hands on his knees. "It always looks so easy with everyone else, doesn't it?"

Cerise nodded her head, sipping her smoothie. "I just want to be happy, Drake. Happy, and in love. Don't you want that?"

"Happy? Yes. I don't think I'll ever be in love, Cerise."

"You just have to meet the right girl." She smiled at him.

"Trust me; there isn't anyone out there for me." Drake eased back in his chair, avoiding Cerise's stare. "Some people were just born to live alone. I've accepted that."

"Drake, there are people who can see more than skin deep."

"I know." Getting out of his chair, taking his smoothie, he shot her a knowing look. "I know. But you have to believe me, Cerise. I will never fall in love—I'm okay with that."

Biting her lower lip, she wondered what could've been done to Drake to make him so afraid of falling in love. She didn't believe him that he was okay with being alone.

"Is everything alright?"

"Yeah," Drake glanced at her once more before turning away. "But I have to go."

She got up, reluctant to leave her good friend after such a short get-together. "Oh, well we have to do this more often. I miss hanging out with you." With a smile, she put her purse around her shoulder.

"Drake, hold up a second." Cerise walked up to her friend, putting a hand on his shoulder.

When he turned around, she gave him a tight hug, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Take care of yourself, Cerise." He embraced her back, and then stepped gingerly out of the hug. "I'll see you around."

"You better." Cerise folded her arms over her chest, wishing that he would stay longer.

Then they went their separate ways, one of them wishing the hug had been longer.

The other wishing it'd never happened at all.

Cerise, as she was driving home later that night, saw someone she hadn't seen in years standing on his balcony. It was only a tiny glimpse she got, but as her car drove past her neighbor's house, she saw him.

Sighing, she wished her old friend had seen her too.

However, Steven Walker probably forgot what she looked like.

Five years was a long time to let go of someone.

Chapter Three

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Sitting behind the wheel of his father's car, Steven eased on the brakes. Beside him, his father sat silently in his chair, staring out the windshield with glazed over eyes. In the background, country music played softly from the speakers.

Their car pulled up to a large, stone building, which was situated in the middle of a quiet neighborhood in Transcona. The building had once been the church that Steven went to with his family every Sunday morning.

Abundant Grace Church.

He put the car in park, yet left it running.

Easing back in his seat, Steven saw that his father was making no move to get out of the car. Most Sunday mornings, when he dropped off his father at church, it usually consisted of grunted goodbyes. If even that.

"You okay, Dad?"

His father sat beside him, staring down at the floor with sullen, tired eyes. Leaning forward, he was kept from falling by the seatbelt pushing into his chest. Several harsh, deafening coughs sounded from him before he righted himself. "Sorry." He unbuckled himself, unable to meet his son's stare.

"Dad." Steven was about to reach out and lightly grab his shoulder, but couldn't bring himself to touching him. Sighing, he withdrew his hand when his father hesitated and looked at his son.

"Why don't you go to church anymore, Steven?"

Frowning, he glanced at the imperious, stone building devoted to a dying, forgotten religion. It had been years since he'd taken a step through those wooden doors and into the sanctuary. Years since he'd held a Bible in his hand, so he could read its supposedly treasured words. "I haven't been in forever. You know that."

"But why?"

Steven chuckled, surprised that they were having this conversation. Trying to keep his bitterness at bay, he answered as straightforwardly as possible. "I don't believe in God."

"You once did."

"I used to believe a lot of things." Steven lowered his eyes, fidgeting slightly. "I used to believe that nothing bad would happen, but I was wrong. I used to believe that everything turned out for good, but again, I was wrong." Lowering his voice, unable to hold back his brewing resentment he said, "I used to believe you loved me—"

It was too much, he couldn't finish his words.

Taking in a deep breath, he turned away from his father. "I'll pick you up at one."

His father, staring at him with wide, shimmering eyes, let out a sigh. "I'll be here." He opened the car door, slowly easing himself out onto the grass. "Steven."

Swallowing his tears, Steven gripped the wheel tightly. "Yeah?"

"I know you don't believe in God, but would you still go to church with me? Maybe we could go out for lunch after the service?"

"No." Steven couldn't look at his father when he said that. Instead, he put the car into drive and stared straight ahead. "I'll pick you up at one then?"

Nodding his head, his father stepped fully out of the car, his hand on the car door. "Yeah. I'll see you then, Steven."

When the door closed, Steven signaled, and drove back out onto the road. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw his father trudging to church, a Bible tucked under his arm, and head hung low.

Even before he became sick, his father was a ghost of his former self. In his early childhood years, he could recall playing happily with his father. He remembered one night when they went to McDonalds and then to the airport, where they both watched the planes take off and land.

The summer of 2001 changed everything.

In the place of his happy, jovial father was a man who could barely crack a smile. He could always depend on his father to provide for them, but that was all he was to Steven. Only when company came over did his father talk openly. If it was just the two of them, their conversation was only situational, never personal.

Steven turned off the country music, putting on a hit radio station instead.

As he drove down the road, he saw someone standing on the sidewalk, watching him drive. With arms crossed, he made it obvious that he was tracking Steven's car with his eyes.

Steven didn't recognize the dark-blue eyed stare when he met the man's gaze.

A smile broke out on the man's face when their eyes met.

Raising his arm, he gave a short wave and nod of his head.

Steven drove past, wondering if perhaps he'd been looking at someone else. Still, there was something eerily familiar in the man's warm stare. He couldn't shake the feelings of déjà-vu. A chill ran down his spine as he kept driving down the street, looking at the man through his side-view mirrors.

He was now walking down the sidewalk in the direction Steven was going.

"Creep." He laughed to himself, glad to chuckle at something after the tense conversation with his father.

His phone vibrated beside him and the screen lit up. Julia had texted him: "good morning babe".

He hurried home, pulled into his driveway and replied to her text. Getting out of his car, he went inside, feeling the joy return as he thought about dreaming.

Phone in hand, he went to the front door of his two-story suburban cliché. Unlocking the door with a key he'd stuffed into his wallet, he opened the door, stepped inside and closed it behind him. Inside, the house's cool air was a relief from the sweltering temperatures outside.

Wiping the sweat from his brow, he went over to his father's desktop.

Sitting in the corner of the living room, was his father's desk. Before the disease tearing away at his body stopped him from working full-time, his father could usually be found sitting at that desk. Papers, photographs and CD's blanketed the surface of the deep mahogany desk. While a monitor screen glowed continuously through the day and into the night.

Nowadays the desktop was quite derelict, its monitor, mouse and keyboard coated in a fine layer of dust.

Steven took a chair from the kitchen table nearby, placing it in front of the desk. Cushioning the back of the chair with a blanket lying on the floor, he took a seat. He would use his laptop, but the main power cord had been lost and the battery had passed away.

Wiping away some of the dust from the screen and keyboard, he waited for the machine to power up.

Staring at his phone, he felt it vibrate in his hand.

Julia's text message read, "I can't wait to dream with you tonight." He replied with the same sentiment before putting his phone on the desk.

After a few minutes of waiting, he had the Internet up and running and a search engine willing to answer any of his questions. He typed into the search bar, "what are dreams?" Pressing "enter" on the keyboard he waited patiently for answers.

To his surprise, there were actually a few articles on the web that touched on the subject of dreaming. The one that caught his eye had the title: "What Lies Behind Closed Eyes". Selecting it, he was brought to a plain website with an article written by a man named Thomas Newman. Eagerly, he read the article and was shocked when he came to certain paragraphs:

"There has been much discussion amongst those who have the hereditary condition of 'dreaming'. Although it's never been scientifically verified, I have seen and met personally with individuals who go to 'places' when they fall asleep. While little research has been done into the field of 'dreaming', I and several others have taken great interest in the subject. And what discussion is there amongst us? That we must go and publicly announce who we are: Dreamers. While certain individuals, such as Alexander Ryans, would rather keep our ability a secret—I am here now, explaining what truly lies behind closed eyes. I'm not sure this will garner much attention, but for now, this is all I can say. Perhaps someday, the general public will know that a community exists amongst them who can dream. Perhaps someday, we can celebrate this difference. Perhaps someday everyone will dream."

"My god." Sitting back in his chair, Steven re-read the article, amazed at its words. He went back to the results for 'what are dreams' but the rest was forum speculation and rumors with little substance. Frustrated he couldn't find more, he entered "Thomas Newman" into the search engine.

None of the "Thomas Newman's" was the man he was searching for.

Trying "Thomas Newman Dreamer", his first result was an old news article. Back in 2001, a man by the name of Thomas Newman was found dead in his apartment. Steven's eyes widened as he read the end of the article:

"All reports conclude that Thomas Newman was tortured in his apartment before being executed. At the moment, there are no suspects. One of the crime scene investigators was 'disturbed' at the lack of evidence remaining in the crime scene. Thomas Newman, known for a few articles on the mysterious, controversial subject of 'dreaming', had been working quite hard to bring his research into light. Whether or not the killer was attempting to silence him remains mere speculation."

Steven was vaguely aware that his cell was vibrating, but he was too focused on finding out all he could on the subject of dreams and Thomas Newman. For hours he searched up articles, blog entries, and anything else that would yield to him information.

Unfortunately there was little else to read.

Still, that there was something amazed him. How had he never heard of dreaming before?

And how could he dream now?

"Julia."

Steven turned his head, staring at Julia's sleeping form as she sat beside him. "Julia," he said again, before he let out a raspy cough. Wiping away eye sand, his heart began beating faster as he realized where he was.

"Steven? You're back." She lifted her head, opening her gorgeous turquoise eyes. She caressed the side of his face, her fingers trembling when they passed over his mouth. "I've missed you."

"Woke up before you this time." With a teasing grin, he slowly got up, taking her hand in his. Together, they got to their feet, while the ground underneath them dipped and shook from their movements. "This is a dream, right?"

"Yes, we're dreaming again." She ran her fingers along the edge of the basket they were both in. It was made of strong, wooden fibers, woven together to form a comfortable, confining bin.

Steven soaked in his surroundings, unable to comprehend where they were.

The two of them were both in a hot air balloon, suspended in the inky darkness of space.

Julia let go of his hand, leaning against one of the basket's sides, staring out into space. "I have missed you Steven." She said again, a whimsical smile on her face.

Steven just stared at her, his grasp on the dream world growing. Finally, after a few moments, he smiled. Walking over to her, he swept some of her hair to the side of her face. Gingerly, he took her hand in his. "I've missed you more."

She lowered her head, her smile oddly thin and forced.

Steven glanced out to the side, staring at the majestic vista, while silenced fell upon them. "This," he spoke with a smile, "is when we're supposed to argue over who misses the other more."

"Maybe I felt like letting you win." Julia returned the smile, leaning against him.

He nodded his head, once more staring out into space. Overhead, flames were the only light provided in the heavy darkness. Stars and nebulas glistened far away, their light breathtakingly vivid and tangible. It was as if he could reach out with his fingers, grasping them in his hand.

He smiled at the fire, which should've quickly died out, but continued to burn.

Overhead, he could see the massive balloon, its color indecipherable, since it appeared to sink into the darkness of space.

Holding Julia, Steven grew tired of staring out into the unchanging vista. Just as he was about to turn away, a glaring light lit up the entire region. Where he supposed had been dark, empty space, Steven now saw the radiant, striking rays of light coming off a bright, red star. And from that light, he could see the glowing edges of a black, rocky planet that'd been obscuring the star and its illumination.

Now that they were moving away from the planet, the glow from the star enveloped them in red, warm beams.

"Amazing." The two lovers stared out at the luminescent orb, its surface rippling with waves of strong, red light. Near one of the poles, a burst of light shot out. In the distance, where the star had burst, he saw what looked like another hot air balloon. Before it drifted out of the light, he saw a solitary figure standing in its confines.

"It is." Julia turned her eyes to Steven.

"I still have no idea how all of this is possible." He gestured at the hot air balloon, glowing a bright red color. "I mean, none of this makes sense. Even this dream, a hot air balloon in space. It's impossible. But even more so, is that we're both here, together, dreaming."

"Is it such a bad thing, though?"

He paused, smiled and then looked back out to the brilliant star, shielding his eyes with his right hand. "No, of course it isn't. When I woke up after dreaming with you, it felt like everything had changed. That what was once important to me, no longer was." He gulped nervously, as she moved closer to him. "All I could think about was dreaming again. To see you."

"Me too. I think it's something to be thankful for. A gift."

"But all these questions: who gave it to us? How did all this come to be—" When he turned to face her again, he was met by her soft, red lips. She kissed him gently, wrapping her arms around him, pulling him close. Her body, warm and frail, melted into his as he kissed her back.

The last time she'd kissed him so passionately was on his final morning at camp.

He remembered getting out of bed in the early hours that Friday morning. His mind unable to find relaxation in sleeping. Leaving his cabin and friends to their slumber, he walked outside.

Bare-footed, clad only in pajamas, he strode along the path that ran through the center of the camp. With only the faint sunlight streaming over the horizon, and onto the path, darkness still afforded him some privacy from others who were awake. One of them, also pajama-clad and barefooted, headed down to the beachfront.

Julia.

Though her hair was a mess, and she surely didn't want to be seen by Steven, he quickly followed her down the trail towards the beach. Ignoring the rocks painfully cutting and bruising the bottom of his feet, he made hasty work of getting to the beach. His heart hammered away in his chest when he saw her take a seat on the grainy, wet sand.

Rising slowly above the blue-watered lake, the sun revealed her tear-stained face, disheveled hair and pajamas. He could also hear her soft, quiet cries.

Carefully he came up beside her, said good morning and asked what was wrong. Taking a seat in the sand, he cringed as the damp sand soaked into his pajamas, chilling him to the bone. Fortunately the sun provided some warmth from its minimal light.

"Nothing's wrong," she replied, her smile off-setting the large, obvious bags under her eyes and the tears staining her cheeks. "How did you sleep?"

"Not too bad," since she was lying, he supposed he would follow suit. "Last night though... wow, I just don't really know what to think about that."

"Me neither." Staring up at him, she took his hand in hers, intertwining their fingers. "But I loved it."

"Me too." He squeezed her finger back, rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb.

Looking down, she sighed. "I just don't know what to do—you live so far away. I'm afraid that I'll never see you again."

Steven had been thinking the same thing. Ever since he'd kissed her under the starry, beautiful night sky, he'd known that his bliss would be short-lived. Eventually he would go back to Winnipeg, a good thousand kilometers away.

That night had been one of those moments in life he wished would never end. A flash of happiness so earth-shaking and euphoric that no second had been negligible.

"Then," Julia said as a tear slipped down her face, "we shouldn't waste a single second of our time."

And they didn't.

Now, as Steven kissed Julia on the hot air balloon, he knew that his moment of happiness didn't have to end.

When she drew her lips from his, Steven let out a sigh, unsure of whether to kiss her again. Fortunately she made the decision for him. "Come with me." Since they were both weightless in the hot air balloon, Julia effortlessly leapt over the sides of the basket. Her body floating, she turned to Steven and beckoned him towards her.

"I can't..." He stared down at the inky, dark blackness of space. The endless fall that would await him if he leapt out of the hot air balloon. A chill ran down his spine.

"It's space!" She laughed, floating lazily near the balloon. "You can't fall in space." Just as she had pleaded with him to breathe in the water, she pleaded with him to jump. "Trust me. You'll be okay."

After some hesitation, Steven complied by tentatively sitting on the edge of the basket. His feet didn't dangle over the edge, but floated upwards. So did the rest of his body when he let go of his hold on the balloon.

After a dizzying sense of vertigo, he slowly moved his arms and legs, and like swimming, began to move away from the balloon and towards Julia.

"This is incredible!" Steven laughed uproariously, drifting towards Julia. Reaching out her arms, she pulled him close, and as they hovered in the vacuum, he kissed her this time. Pulling her close, they rested in one another's arms.

Steven took her hand, holding it tightly. "Let's go!" He drew them back to the balloon, and then instructed her to hang onto the edge of the basket. "Just as I do." With his fingers wrapped over the rim, he put his feet on the side of the basket.

Kicking off the balloon, he sprung outwards.

However, he hadn't quite gotten the hang of moving around in the vacuum and with his increasing speed, began to lose control of his flight.

"No!" He shouted, trying to slow down, but failing to do so. He got one more glimpse behind him, watching Julia and the balloon shrink into the distance.

The huge, rocky planet was drawing him in. Helplessly he drew closer and closer to the harsh, dark surface of the satellite. Arms flailing, he felt himself begin to fall. He closed his eyes, waiting the moment of impact.

It never came.

Instead, when he opened his eyes, he found himself no longer in space, but wrapped up in his blankets on the floor. Bathed in sweat, he untangled himself from the sheets. With a grunt, he wiped his brow clear of sweat.

His heart still hammering away, his lungs desperate for air, he found refuge on his balcony. With the air warm, but much fresher than that in his room, he took in a deep breath.

Stumbling to the edge of the balcony, he gave his head a shake, trying to clear it from the intoxicating, enveloping dream.

Staring up at the bright, luminous moon, he knew without any uncertainty that life had changed completely for him. Everything in his life was now set on a different course. Whatever inspirations, plans, and relationships he'd been focused on, now paled in comparison to what meeting Julia had done to him.

He had a lot to think about.

Taking a seat on a lawn chair set up on the balcony, he decided that now was as good a time as ever.

The television blared loudly in her living room. Cerise sat on her couch, her eyes finding it hard to focus on the characters onscreen. And her mind kept drifting to her situation with Nathan.

Glancing at the clock stationed on her living room wall, Cerise got off the couch and decided to go for a late night walk. Her mind was too distracted to focus on her show anyways.

She felt an urge for coffee, and decided to go to the Tim Horton's just down the road, where she could get a café mocha and see if her best friend, Andrea would meet her there. Although it was quite late at night, her friend wasn't usually busy, and they hadn't seen each other for a while.

Entering her number into her phone, she placed it to her ear and let it ring. A few seconds later, she heard her friend's groggy voice. "Cerise?"

"Hey, you weren't sleeping were you?"

"Not anymore. Its fine though, how's it going? I've missed you! You weren't at Vince's party last weekend."

"Miss you too! I've just been really busy. Do you want to go out for coffee? I've got nothing to do and can't sleep." Cerise sat back on her couch, hoping her friend would say yes.

"Awe Cerise, I can't. It's like one in the morning. I also look like crap. Tomorrow?" Andrea let out a tired laugh. "I want to see you girl, but I just woke up."

"We'll both look crappy together. I don't have anyone else, please?"

"Go with Nathan? I'm way too tired."

"Fine, I'll let you sleep. But Nathan's in Alberta, I guess I'll go alone."

"Really? Well why do you want to go Timmies so bad anyways? Wait, this sounds like cravings. You're not prego are you?"

Cerise laughed, "No. Not yet anyways."

"That's good." She laughed as well. "We'll see you tomorrow then; I'm tired and need my sleep. Goodnight!"

"Night." Hanging up, Cerise put her phone in her pocket, and walked to the bathroom. Looking in the mirror, she sighed at her limp hair and tired looking eyes. Although she didn't look like a million bucks, she decided to go anyways.

Her parents were both sleeping, so Cerise quietly put on her shoes, zipped up her sweater and went out the door.

Outside the air was pleasantly warm and she unzipped her sweater, embracing the breeze that surrounded her. Strolling out into the night, her street lit only by lampposts and the moon above, she was glad to go alone.

There was something so peaceful about being up at night, while the world slept.

Well most of the world.

For as she passed by one house in particular, she heard someone call out her name.

Her heart stopped.

Chapter Four

__________________

Cerise hadn't heard that voice call out to her in over five years.

As she walked down the road, which was lit by streetlights and the moon overhead, she'd been lost in thought. Although Nathan had left the province, he seemed unable to leave her heart or mind. No matter what line of thought she was on, it always seemed to lead to her boyfriend.

Well, until Steven had called out to her.

As soon as his familiar, kind voice met her ears, she was brought back five years to the summer of '07. Any thoughts of Nathan were erased, as she was taken back in time.

It had been a hotter summer than usual. One afternoon, while the sun scorched her from the blue sky above, she saw one of the kids from her street biking on his driveway. He only lived two houses down the road, with only one of his parents—his dad if she remembered correctly.

Watching him bike and up and down the driveway, she wondered why he didn't bike any further. He would roll down the driveway and abruptly turn around before his blue bike rolled onto the street. Then he would bike slowly up the driveway, loop around, and do it all over again.

Finally, she could resist her curiosity no longer.

Taking her own bike, which lay on her front lawn, she set out towards him. She would have to bike quickly away, for her helmet was still inside, and her parents forbid biking without proper equipment.

"Hey!" She called out to the kid as he rolled towards her.

Pedaling backwards, his bike came to a jarring stop. His blue eyes widened, while shyly drifting to the driveway. Without saying anything, he attempted to bike back up the driveway, but she called out to him.

"Come back! Where are you going?"

This time when he stopped his bike, he got off it and propped his bike up with the kickstand. His dark, straight hair stuck out of his helmet and flipped upwards. Beads of sweat formed on his brown, tanned face. Most of his face had Native American features, except for his very blue, European eyes.

Sauntering towards her, he undid the helmet strap and carried it under his arm.

"Hi," he smiled shyly before coming to a stop a few steps in front of her.

She blushed as their eyes met, "I'm Cerise."

"Steven." He awkwardly stuck out a hand, seemed to think better of it and put it back in his pocket. His face turning a bright crimson, he stared back at his bike.

Giggling, she held out her hand. "Shake it."

After some hesitation, he did.

When their hands met, she didn't want to let go—but he did.

"Why are you only biking on the driveway?"

"My dad won't let me go anywhere else."

"Oh." Cerise raised her eyebrow, a mischievous grin on her face. "My dad always makes me wear a helmet. But sometimes," she pointed at her auburn hair, "I don't."

Steven fidgeted nervously.

"C'mon. Just once around the block." She tilted her head to the side, eyebrows still raised. "It's more fun than your driveway."

"I'm not allowed."

"Just once." She took him by the hand, leading him back to his bike. "It won't hurt you."

"My dad might though." Steven looked down at his bike, then into her eyes. With a defeated sigh, he nodded his head. "Just this once." Putting on his helmet, he kicked up the kickstand and got onto his bike.

Cerise got on her bike and they both started pedaling down the quiet, suburban road. Dandelion seeds drifted past them as they picked up speed. Side by side they biked all the way to the stop sign. A car roared past them on the intersecting road.

"I think we should go back."

"Race you to the park!" Cerise ignored his uncertainty, giving him a slight push as she took off pedaling down the street. She heard his tires rolling quickly after her own. Smiling, she saw that he was picking up speed. "I'm gonna beat you!" She pedaled harder, but was surprised when it was Steven who was making the most headway.

Pulling ahead of her, she couldn't pedal nearly as fast.

"Sure about that?" Steven turned his head, a victorious expression on his face. Only, he wasn't watching the parked van on the street. The side of his handle smacked into the vehicle, and sent his bike careening to the side.

Steven rolled off his bike, which lay on its side, one of its wheels spinning furiously.

Laughing, Cerise looped back around, coming to a stop at his side. "I'm sure about it."

He looked into her eyes, his blue eyes sparkling. A smile sat on his face, right next to a deep, red gash. "That hurt."

"I bet," giggling, she helped him to his feet, wiping her thumb over his cut. "C'mon. Let's get you home."

Nodding his head, he limped beside her as they walked their bikes back to his place.

Every day after that, at least for the summer, they would spend together. Biking, walking to the parks nearby, getting Slurpees, spending time at one another's house and becoming the best of friends.

But like all good things, it didn't last.

Now here she was, five years later, walking up on his front lawn. Staring up at him as he got to his feet on his balcony, leaning against the railing.

In place of that once awkwardly cute boy, was a young man that bore little resemblance to her old friend. Now his long, black hair was short and styled up. Even in the darkness, she could see his face was almost one of a stranger's. Handsome, but not familiar. Only his sharp, breathtaking blue eyes bore any resemblance to his younger self.

"Hey, Cerise." He called out to her, his voice sounding loudly in the still night. Turning around, he slid the glass door to his room shut. Going back to the railing, he wore a sheepish smile on his face. "Sorry for startling you."

"Steven!" She came closer to his balcony, holding her hand to her heart. "You should be, nearly gave me a heart attack!" Laughing, she brushed some of her hair from her eyes, wishing now that she'd prettied herself up. Thankfully the dark did a good job of obscuring her. "What are you doing up there?"

"Couldn't sleep. Sorry for scaring you; what are you doing out so late?"

She folded her arms over her chest, a smile on her lips. "Believe it or not, I was just going to grab some coffee."

"At one in the morning? You must really like coffee." Laughing, he climbed on top of his railing and sat on the cool stone, a good ten feet above the grass below.

"I do."

"You were going out alone?"

"Sadly, yes."

"Can I change that? If you give me a minute, I'll join you." Steven got off the railing and stood on his balcony.

Cerise was surprised at his forwardness, raising an eyebrow; she did her best to suppress the large grin growing on her face. Nodding her head, she knew that five years was long enough to forgive and forget past hurts. "Okay."

She made out a smile on his face, and he put up a finger to indicate he wouldn't be too long and went back into his room. She could hear him shuffling around for several minutes.

She took a seat on the lawn, swatting at the mosquitoes that swarmed around her.

"Just a minute?" She teased when he came out five minutes later.

"Hey, not everyone can look good at one in the morning." He climbed over the railing, dropped onto the grass, and winced as his ankles took the brunt of the fall. "Damn!" He stumbled to his feet, offered Cerise a hand, but saw that she was already standing.

"Smooth, are you okay?"

"I'm fine." He grunted, turning back to look at his house.

Cerise saw the embarrassed expression on his face. She poked him in the side. "You always jump out of the balcony like that?" She brushed a piece of grass off his shoulder.

"It didn't look that far from up there." He glanced at her hand on his shoulder and she put it back in her pocket.

"First time sneaking out?" She saw that he kept glancing over his shoulder.

"Maybe."

"You always were the goody-goody." Cerise remembered how getting him to do anything other than what his father said was nearly impossible. One time, when they were both watching a movie, he left halfway through, so he wouldn't be even a minute past curfew. No matter how much she promised it would be okay, he refused to do the 'wrong' thing.

"It's called growing up Christian." Steven's tone was filled with resentment near the end of his sentence. Lightening his tone, he asked, "Are we going to the Timmies down the road?"

"No, the one at the end of the city."

Steven blinked, and then a small smile formed on his face. "I don't recall you being so sarcastic last time we talked."

"Five years is a long time."

"Yes," he glanced over his shoulder one last time, studying his dark house with a relieved sigh. "I guess it is." He nodded his head, biting his lower lip. "So why are you going to Tim Horton's so late at night?"

"Couldn't sleep either." They walked side by side on the dark, house-lined road, their pace slow and relaxed. Cerise kept a good distance between them, so her arms could swing back and forth without bumping into his. It was funny, five years and she was still thinking about what would happen if their fingers brushed against each other's ever-so-slightly.

Would he pull back?

Or perhaps, would he latch on?

She wasn't sure which one she would want.

"I feel you, when I can't sleep; I like to walk down dark, lonely roads at the dead of night." He chuckled, while she kept silent, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. "Only to grab a drink that will only make me less tired."

"Good. I'm glad I'm not the only one."

"For sure."

Unsure of what to say next, Cerise stared up into the night sky, which was awash with bright, twinkling stars. A jet, hundreds of meters off the ground, thundered overhead to the Winnipeg International Airport.

"Are you still going to the private school?"

"Yep. It's not so bad though, kind of grows on you. Let me guess, you went to Kildonan after Bernie, right?"

"Sure did." Curious as to what his reaction would be, she added. "It won't be the same though, now that my boyfriend graduated this summer."

Oddly enough, there was only a slight smile on his lips. "Well only one year until you're graduated yourself." There were no questions about her boyfriend, only an amused smile and quick glance aimed at her.

"Yeah, it's pretty crazy isn't it? One more year left." She cocked her head. "What are you going to do when school's out?"

"I don't really know—maybe become a doctor, or nurse... a paramedic. Haven't figured it all out just yet. What about you?"

Cerise shrugged, she'd been wondering the same thing for a long time. When school finally ended, what in the world was she going to do with the rest of her life? She wanted to be a psychiatrist, but another part of her wanted to do something else. Unlike most people it seemed, she held no real aspirations or dreams; just plausible occupations that made the most sense to take.

Life was too random to plan anyhow, why not just let it come about and see what happened?

"I don't know—I'm trying to figure that all out still. I guess I'll just do what makes me happy." Cerise smiled at him, her pace picking up as they neared the near-empty, brightly lit café.

"So would you say you're happy right now?"

"I would, yes." Cerise slipped her hands into her pockets. "I couldn't be happier." Her eyes drifted to the side, while thoughts of Nathan burdened her like a ton of bricks strapped to her shoulders. Was she happy? No, not at all. "What about you?"

"No and yes," he shrugged, "it's just been a crazy end to the summer—so many things happened I wasn't expecting."

Julia smiled knowingly. "What's her name?"

Steven laughed in surprise, and then told her most of what was on his mind. Camp, Julia, and trying to have a long distance relationship. Still, she knew there was more to the story that he was keeping to himself.

When they walked through the doors of Tim Horton's, he poured out more of what was weighing down on his heart. His soul, he laid mostly bare. When he got to telling about his father's disease, Steven could hardly remain composure.

He pulled in a deep breath, blinking back tears.

She put an arm on his shoulder, holding him tenderly, as he told her the heart wrenching truth of his father's terminal disease.

Behind the counter, a tired, older woman awaited their order. She rubbed her eyes, took in their order of two apple fritters and two café mochas, and then told them the cost of the purchase.

Taking out his wallet, he paid with the loonies and toonies clustered inside. "Don't worry, I got this." He smiled at Cerise who was opening her mouth to object. When he got the change back, he put it into the 'camp donations' box.

While they waited for their order, Cerise hesitantly asked about his father. "Is there a chance that your dad will get any better?" She asked with a soft tone, her plain brown eyes widening with sympathy.

"There's always a chance. I don't know." He looked away from her, unable to maintain eye contact. "I just don't want to lose him."

"I'm so sorry Steven." She took a step closer, gingerly wrapping him in her arms, hugging him tightly.

He returned the hug, a surprised look on his face.

It'd been five years since she'd hugged him. The last time, she remembered, was on a warm, September afternoon. They were both entering their first year of junior high, making new friends and unaware that their lives were slowly splitting apart.

During the summer, five years ago, they'd spend almost every day together, walking around the neighborhood, going to one another's house and talking for hours on end. It was the time when their childhoods were traded in for the more complicated, hormone-induced stage of life called teenage hood.

Puberty.

However, they still retained most of their innocence for the duration of the summer, playing more like children than young adults. Well, until a spark was ignited between them.

Though she couldn't remember exactly when it happened, they both remembered a time when they were talking and their eyes met. Just like the first time she'd stared into his blue eyes, there was again a strong current of attraction.

Steven had looked away, his face reddening.

Cerise, surprised by the feelings in her chest, held his gaze with a smile planted on her face. When he looked back up at her, the feelings had dissipated for the most part. Both laughed nervously, getting off the couch and playing outside.

During the next few days, those feelings would come up every so often, surprising them both. When he pulled on her hand, it wasn't the same anymore—she hoped that he wouldn't let go. She just wanted to spend every minute with him, feeling a newfound sadness when he had to go home after a day of hanging out.

When he left, she'd run to her window, open the blinds and watch him walk down her driveway.

She wished she could walk beside him.

Then, one day, as summer was taking its last breath, he finally told her how he felt.

Now, holding Steven in her arms, those stubborn feelings came back for just the tiniest of moments. Stepping out of the hug, he thanked her with a smile on his face, a single tear running down his face.

"Thanks Cerise."

"Anytime." There was a slight dip in her a smile, a knowing look in her eyes. He looked away, his face turning red, before he grabbed his apple fritter and beverage off the counter and walked towards a table.

For nearly an hour, Cerise and Steven talked continuously. They reminisced over the numerous memories they had made together, laughing at stupid things he'd done and silly thing she'd said. Their conversation slowly took on a more serious note as she told him about her tumultuous relationship with Nathan.

As she explained Nathan and the troubles in their relationship, she could see in Steven's eyes that he thought very little of him. It was the same look that Drake had given her.

Gently, and without being too forward, he suggested that she drop the relationship.

Cerise only smiled sadly. "I don't know. At first I wanted to do that, but the more I think about him, I kind of miss him. I know he's a monster, but it isn't easy. A part of me wonders if we can get better."

"And if it doesn't get better? I thought you wanted to be happy?"

"Nathan has made me happy." She drank the rest of her cool, sugary mocha, wondering why she was defending him.

"Does he?" Steven looked unsure of what he was going to say, but he said it anyways. "After we went our separate ways, I still heard about you. How you would quickly find yourself a boyfriend, then another, after the relationship crashed and burned. And when that relationship died out, you would find another guy. Maybe, you're just in love with falling in love."

Cerise couldn't stop her stare from turning into a glare. "I see what you're saying. Don't worry about me, Steven. I'll be just fine." Forcing a smile, she ate the last of her fritter and checked her phone. "Well this was fun, but I should get going home." Standing up hastily, she put her cell back in her jean pocket; Steven joined her and they walked out of the quiet, still café.

This time, weary from the late night and slightly intense discussion, she didn't say a word to him. When they came up to his house, she turned to him, a sad, defeated look on her face. Though she couldn't admit it, his words got to her more than he knew. "Good night Steven."

"Take care, Cerise." He hesitantly opened his arms for a hug and she accepted it.

She forgot how amazing his hugs were.

"I'll see you around." Stepping out of the hug, he turned and walked towards his house.

Cerise watched him grab the ledge of a window to boost himself closer to the balcony, where he pulled himself onto by the railing. When he was safely on the balcony, he gave her a short wave and entered his bedroom.

As she turned around, she felt her phone vibrate in her pocket.

Nathan?

She hadn't heard from her boyfriend since he'd gone. Nervously, she checked her phone, hoping and dreading that it was her boyfriend who'd taken the time to text her. It was probably just Steven though, wishing her a good night.

However, she was wrong—it was Nathan.

Though it was a simple text, her heart was still torn apart at his words. One side melted, the other froze. "Sorry Cerise," the text read, "been busy, having a good trip. Hope you're doing well, love you babe <3."

Tears welled up in her eyes as she wondered if she should respond.

Instead of replying, she shut her eyes, and put her phone back in her pocket.

When she got home, she put her phone in her charger, slipped quietly through the house and into the kitchen for a glass of milk. Her kitchen, cleaned and immaculate as always, was unoccupied. Sitting at the kitchen table, resting her face on her arms, she cried softly.

Her glass of milk, standing before her, was left alone as she wept into her arms.

Her heart, stirred by the warm message sent by Nathan, brought to her mind her best memory of Nathan.

It was the time she'd gone on her first date with Nathan. Before then they'd hung out together constantly, flirting, laughing and joking with the ease of two best friends. They were simply compatible—liking the same music, food, activities and could relate very well on so many levels. Perfect for each other.

One day, as they were walking to Dairy Queen during their lunch break, everything changed between them. A cool autumn breeze filled the air with the smell of dead leaves, rain and flowers. Cars drove by on the slushy, grimy roads as the two walked on the sidewalk.

Nathan had been telling her a story, she'd been laughing along, staring up at him with wide, brown eyes. He'd met her gaze, smiling gently as he finished his tale. Both of them laughed, she commented on something nearby, swinging her arms nonchalantly. He saw what she was pointing out, swinging his arms as well.

Their fingers brushed up against one another, a current of electricity shooting up her arm. Or so it felt like. Her heart stopped, their fingers brushed up against each other again, this time, stopping one another.

Neither of them paid their hands any attention, though that was all Cerise was thinking about as they walked. Her index finger curled over his, slowly intertwining with his. He squeezed her hand gently, staring down at her with a wide grin.

"Are you busy, next Friday?" Nathan had asked, his face glowing. Goodness, she couldn't get enough of how amazing he looked when he smiled.

"Not really," she gave his hand a gentle squeeze, "can you change that?"

"I think so. That is, if you're up to going out for supper, maybe come back to my place and watch a movie?" He didn't make it sound like a question and Cerise didn't take it as one.

"I think that could work."

"Perfect."

Yes you are, Cerise had thought with a smile, her heart racing in her chest. She'd been falling in love with him for months as their friendship blossomed. Now, she was sure that he felt the same way; she couldn't describe how amazing that felt.

Their Friday night together had been just as fantastic as she'd hoped it would be. Dinner was tasty; he'd paid for it all at the local Olive Garden and had taken her hand in his. His piercing, green eyes staring at her for most of the night.

Though not staring at her, but staring inside her, seeing how she truly felt, what she was really saying. She didn't think it was necessary to act a certain way around him, since they'd always been close friends. There was no awkwardness, or miscommunication. Instead it was a fabulous night—one that she would treasure.

Except, as she was finding out now, those nights would never last. Eventually the happiness left, leaving one to find oneself facing dark, cold reality.

Chapter Five

_______________

Steven was the first to step forward, laying a flower at the foot of a marble headstone.

A daffodil.

As the flower rested on the long, green grass that surrounded his mother's tombstone, he thought back to that long ago, Sunday morning.

He'd woken up as sunlight was peering into his window, illuminating his room. Getting out of bed, still wearing his pajamas and hair a mess, he ran out of his room. Since most five year olds detest sleep as much as parents desire it, Steven was the only one awake.

Running down the hall, his gait awkward and uncontrolled, he made his way to the front door. Stretching his arms up, he latched onto the doorknob, turning it both ways until he found out which way opened the door.

When it creaked open, he stepped outside, barefoot and ran down the stairs.

Laughing uproariously, a big smile on his face, he headed towards their garden. Beneath their living room window was a small patch of mud, dotted with flowers. Some afternoons his mother would let him hold the hose and sprinkle the garden with water.

Steven stepped right into the mud, sinking into the cool, damp earth. Squatting down, he plucked three daffodils, knowing that they were his mother's favorite.

Running back inside, leaving the door wide open, he'd surprised both his parents with the flowers. Exclaiming in a loud, high-pitched voice, he let his mom know that he had a birthday present for her.

He stuck out his hand; chubby fingers wrapped around three daffodils with mud still coating their stems.

Tracking mud into the house, bringing it all the way into his parent's bedroom, his father let out a groan. Yet, with a large smile and a kiss, his mom took the flowers and gathered her son in her arms. "I love them, Steven!"

Every birthday since, it'd been his tradition to give her daffodils—this time from a florist, not her garden.

Steven knelt down at her grave with a somber smile, "Happy birthday Mom. Love you." He laid down two more flowers, stood back up and silently watched his father approach her grave.

This time, no tears fell from his eyes. It seemed this year that his tears had finally run out. With dry eyes, he knew that he'd come to the point where the heart-wrenching sorrow of losing a loved one, was replaced by a dull ache.

His father, however, shed many tears as he trembled before her grave.

"I love you." He knelt close to the ground, his hands gripping the tomb weakly. He stayed that way for several minutes, his lips moving, but so sound coming from them. When he finally stood up, he brushed off his pants and gave Steven a smile. "Thanks for coming along, Steven."

Steven just stared at his mother's grave, eyes darkening. "This wasn't for you." He whispered loudly enough for him to hear. Glancing away, he couldn't meet his father's stare. Sticking his hands in his pocket, he let out a huff. "Sorry, I don't know why I said that."

Strangely enough, the tears were coming now.

His father simply stood there, his face unreadable and expressionless.

"I know you didn't come here for me, Steven." Shifting uncomfortably, the side of his lip raised into a smile. "I'm not blind to my faults. I'm—" Instead of finishing his sentence, he broke out into a fit of coughing. His eyes watering and frail form trembling from the powerful hacking.

Steven sighed, "C'mon, we should get you somewhere warmer." Unlike the past week, today's temperatures had been chilling. Fall was coming early to Winnipeg, bringing with it frigid temperatures, ice and snow.

Walking at his father's side, he unlocked the car door and got into the driver's seat. Cranking up the thermostat, he started the car and waited for his father to be seated.

Outside, he could see the sun rising over the trees and into a crisp blue sky. Yet it did nothing to cure his somber, gloomy mood. For one reason or another, this morning he'd woken up with an ache in his heart stronger than before.

Not even thinking about Julia, or his great night with Cerise, could relieve him of the misery. Frowning, he put the car into drive and steered the vehicle out of the cemetery.

"Do you still want to go to the café?" He asked his father, who was slumped over in his seat, hacking and coughing away. Tear stains were visible on his wrinkled, pale face.

"Yes, just give me a moment."

While Steven drove, his father covered his mouth with his sleeve, coughing into it loudly. Fresh tears fell from his eyes, while he wheezed for air. His eyes shut, and grimace widened as the pain was certainly mounting inside.

"They're getting worse." Steven commented as the coughing faded.

"I'll be okay." He attempted to straighten himself out, a weary smile on his lips.

"I hope so." Steven glanced down at him, not sure how he could feel such rage, pity and hurt all at the same time. Taking a breath, he turned on the radio. Music—loud and overtly cheerful—filled the cab of the car. Leaning back in his seat, he tried to enjoy the familiar tunes.

Instead of thinking of his father, he tried to remember his dream with Julia.

Her beautiful face, teasing laugh, sweet voice and love for adventure. The way she'd kissed him so passionately, wrapping her arms around him.

Then he thought of Cerise.

This memory actually made him smile.

He hadn't seen her in such a long time; it'd been such a surprise to have seen her last night. It was great to catch up with her, even though the updates they both had weren't so great. He wanted to see her again though; he forgot how fun she was to be with.

He turned off the road and into the Mountain House Café's parking lot.

In his pocket, he felt his phone vibrate.

Slowing down, he found a parking spot near the entrance of the café and took it. Once the car was in park, he took the keys from the ignition and unbuckled. His father got out as well.

He could taste the warm, delicious coffee they served inside.

Caffeine would be much appreciated on a day like today.

Stepping out of the car, he actually shivered as the cold air made it through his sweater. Although it was only September, it would not be long until winter's chill descended upon the city. "Mom would love a day like this," he remarked to his father, leading him down the sidewalk and to the café's front doors.

Turning his head, he smiled. "Yes, she would."

Going to Mountain House Café had been a family tradition for the Walker's even before Steven was born. Back when his parents were newlyweds, his father said that this was his mom's favorite place to eat. It had also been the place where they'd met—when she was a waitress and he a young, struggling musician.

He'd been writing a song that evening and was struggling to find the right words for it. Frustrated and in need of inspiration, he went out of his apartment and just strolled down the sidewalk, thinking over and over again for those perfect words to fit the melody he had created.

Since it was a cold night and the newly opened Mountain House Café was close by, he went over there, took a seat and waited to be served. When she came to his table with her dark brown eyes and matching curly brown hair, he had found his inspiration.

Seven months later, they were married.

When Steven was born, they made a point of going to the Mountain House Café for each of their birthdays. As a family. She knew many of those who worked there, including the owners and would always make sure they got the best service.

Steven remembered loving the café when he was kid.

Now, whenever he ate with his father in the café, it was a somber, nostalgic time. He still loved going there, but he could never truly enjoy the food and conversation. There were too many memories there—that he found himself recounting those times in his head.

The Mountain House Café had become a time machine of sorts. Whenever he stepped through those double-doors, met by the strong aroma of coffee and baked goods, he was brought back to his childhood.

When his family was complete.

Today, when he stepped inside the café, the experience was no different. Only, unlike most time he'd gone, the café was quieter—emptier than it usually was. A lone waitress walked in-between the tables, wiping them with a cloth and putting the chairs in their proper place.

Sitting in a booth, the only other occupants of the café were both employed in a smiling, good-natured conversation. None of them looked at the father and son, not even the waitress, a new girl if Steven was correct, gave them notice.

His father broke out into a loud series of coughs, before the waitress looked up at them. With a forced smile, her weary eyes telling how she truly felt, she welcomed them in. "Welcome to Mountain House Café, is this all in your party today?"

"Yep, just us two." Steven answered for his father, who was still coughing away.

"Okay, follow me." She smiled, taking out two menus and led them to a booth against the far wall, which was parallel to the main road outside. Once the two were seated, she immediately took their orders, leaving Steven to wonder why she was playing the role of both hostess and waitress.

Steven ordered their gourmet blueberry fritters and a large, double chocolate mocha. His father held off the coughing long enough to place his order, which was a chocolate muffin and decaffeinated coffee.

Checking his phone, when the waitress was gone and his father coughing away, he saw that both Cerise and Julia had texted him. He checked Julia's first, smiling as he read her cute little message. "You're never going to be an astronaut! Ha-ha I had an amazing time babe, miss you so much :( have an amazing day <3 I've got to work :/"

Just as he was about to see Cerise's message, Julia sent him another.

"Oh, and I love you," it read, "just thought I'd let you know that <3" Those words gripped him powerfully, filling his stomach with excitement, queasiness and euphoria. How long had it been since someone had truly loved him?

Even if it was just words on a screen, the sentence lifted his spirits infinitely.

Cerise's message was much less impacting. "Had a great time last night! We're gonna have to hang out again sometime!"

Going back to Julia's message, he texted, "Love you more! Have a great day, can't wait for tonight <3". He slid the phone into his pocket after sending the message.

"Who was that?" His father stared at him with a haggard, weak smile.

"Who was I texting?"

"Yeah."

"Just a friend." He frowned, wondering why he was asking him about it. Fidgeting in his seat, he stared out the window, watching the vehicles roar past.

Instead of the silence that usually accompanied their being together, his father spoke up. "So you went out last night?"

"You saw that, huh?" His cheeks reddened, as he anticipated a lecture to begin. "I'm sorry about that," he paused awkwardly, unsure of what else to say, "Won't happen again." He stared at the napkin dispenser, unable to meet his father's stare.

His father kept silent for a time, a frown on his face. Yet there was no usual anger, disappointment or hostility in his gaze. His eyes, instead, were portals into a very tortured, conflicted soul. All Steven could see when he finally met his gaze was pain.

"You won't even say something to that?" Steven felt his bitterness churning in his gut. Holding back his rage, he wanted so badly to know what he could possibly do to get his father to say anything. Most times, when he was in trouble, he would get harsh looks, or a few words spoken in anger, but nothing else.

For the most part, he was a good kid and discipline wasn't usually needed, but when he did act out, he was never grounded. Never yelled at, or lectured.

His father, staring at Steven with pain-filled eyes, let out a sigh. "I'm—I'm not sure what to say." A tear slipped down his face, making it all the way to the tabletop below. "There comes a time in our lives when decisions become our own. Soon, every decision will be yours to make Steven."

"What do you mean?" Steven resisted the urge to bite one of his fingernails as he detected the seriousness in his father's tone. He couldn't mean what he thought.

"Yesterday, I talked with Dr. Kolowsky. The latest results were in." His voice lowered, while he coughed for nearly a minute. Staring up at his son, tears were welling up in his eyes. "A month, Steven. That's the best prognosis they could give. The cancer's spreading quickly through my lungs—nothing's stopping it."

"No." Steven shook his head. "A month? No... no, it—" he covered his mouth with his hand, closing his eyes to stop the tears. He could hear the waitress come to their table, handing them their drinks and pastries.

"I'm sorry, Steven."

"Sorry?" Steven said after a minute of silence. "You're sorry? First Mom dies and now you." The tears were unstoppable now. "Dr. Kolowsky said you still had years ahead of you! Years! A month? How... how? How?" Steven breathed heavily, his words overtaken by a sob.

His father took a sip from his coffee, staring at his son with misty eyes.

For long, painful minutes Steven fought back the tears, covering his face with his arm. When his eyes dried, and his breaths came easier, he took the mocha in his hands, sipping it quietly.

"So... so that's why you've been so talkative recently." Steven tried to laugh, but it only sounded like a grating, angry sob. "Death's what it took for you to care."

"Steven." His father set down his mug, his eyes widening. "You're my son; I care about you a lot. I may not be the best father, but I care about you. No more than I did before I got the news."

"Okay." Steven took a bite of his blueberry fritter.

"I'm sorry though Steven, trust me, I know how many mistakes I've made. How many times I could've been more there for you." His father sipped his beverage, staring out the window. "Just after your mother died—"

"It's fine. You don't have to say anything." Steven took out his cell phone, hoping his father would just leave it alone. Right now, he didn't want to think about his father or the month he had left—it hurt way too much.

Neither of them said anything for the remainder of the breakfast.

When Steven and his father were walking out of the café, he saw a familiar person leaning against the building, a cup of coffee in his hand. Though Steven hadn't seen him inside, there he was, drinking a hot beverage from the same café. With a smile, he met Steven's eyes—it was the man who had watched him as he drove back from the church.

The man smiled, took a sip of his beverage and sauntered away from him.

Before Steven knew where he'd gone, the man had disappeared.

Later in the evening, when Steven was sitting in his living room, stretched out on the couch, he felt his phone vibrate. Retrieving it, he saw Julia's first text since she'd told him she would be at a party for the night.

Only, as he read and reread the message, he couldn't make sense of it.

At first he thought it was a joke, or the start of one.

But midnight came and went, leaving Steven sitting on the couch, staring at a phone that made not a peep. No text messages or calls from Julia.

All he was left with was a simple, frightening message

It read, "I love you, please forgive me..."

"Hey, don't let Phil catch you!" Cerise called out to her friend Leanne, who was still at one of Superstore's checkouts. Leanne wished her last customer a good night, and then laughed, before wishing Cerise a good night as well.

"Okay Cerise," she giggled, turning around to see Phil, the head cashier, walking down the aisle towards the dozen of checkouts. He returned her smile, winking at her good-naturedly. "Take care! Phil will have no idea!"

"Will have no idea about what?" Phil asked as he approached Leanne, while Cerise went down another aisle, away from the front of the store. Unbuttoning the front of her work blouse, she stepped past several customers, all of them glancing at her curiously.

She could hear Phil laughing uproariously as Leanne most likely shared what the two had been talking about. Smiling to herself, she strolled down the clean, empty aisles and turned off to the 'Employee's Only' area of the store.

The 'back' of the store, where the groceries and merchandise were stored, was eerily quiet as she entered. Two grocery associates, unloading a pallet of frozen goods from the freezer, paused momentarily to glance at her, before going back to their work.

She smiled at one of them, but he was already talking with his friend, their voices lowered. None of them paid attention to Marina either, who was busy at the other end of the warehouse like storage room, which was easily the size of a gymnasium, cutting open boxes with cheap merchandise inside.

A small path ran alongside the wall of the storage room, where boxes, stands and pallets occupied the remainder of the room. Walking down it, she took off her work blouse, donning now yoga pants and a grey, sleeveless undershirt. "Hey, Marina!" She called out to the older woman, knee-deep in boxes she was opening.

"Hi there, Cerise. You're leaving already, what time is it?" She wiped the sweat from her brow, putting down her knife.

"It's nearly seven o'clock, but I'm off early today—my dad's celebrating his fiftieth birthday tonight and Phil felt like being nice for once."

"He let you off early? Wow, what did you do for that?"

"Just being my wonderful self; he likes me." She smiled sweetly. Both of them knew why Phil liked her so much. "You should try being nice to him, he might give you more breaks."

"Nice? To Phil? That isn't possible dear." She picked up her knife, the wrinkles on her tanned face growing as she smiled.

"Well get used to long shifts, no breaks and working customer service till you drop."

"I already am." The two of them laughed. Cerise wished her a good day, Marina responded likewise and she went back to cutting open boxes, while Cerise went to her locker.

Standing in front of the lockers, two of her co-workers were talking and giggling loudly. Chris, a new girl who was still learning to work the register, was talking and laughing with Kylie, who'd been a cashier for several years. "So which department does he work in? He isn't a cashier is he?"

Kylie rolled her eyes, "You really think they'd let him face all those customers?" They both broke out into laughter, neither of them noticing Cerise, who bent down to her locker, spinning in the right combination for her lock.

"Oh right, I guess that shouldn't be the last thing they see before they leave."

"Eww, no."

Chris laughed again, putting on her coat and noticing Cerise for the first time. She was about to say something, but Kylie shook her head. Instead, she led the girl away from the lockers, towards the staff room, whispering into her ear, while glancing back at Cerise.

Cerise only swore under her breath, thankful that Drake hadn't been around to hear the way the girls spoke about him. Who cared if he wasn't amazing to look at? She could think of plenty of horrible things to say about Kylie, but was nice enough to keep quiet about.

Wouldn't she just love it, if Cerise went to the other cashiers and gossiped about her?

Not that stuff wasn't gossiped about; there'd always been plenty of that. It was just that no one ever gave Drake a break about his physical appearance. It had been the running joke ever since he started years ago.

Grabbing her purse out of the locker, she put her folded work shirt in its place and locked the door. Brushing a thick strand of her auburn hair from her face, she stood up, stretched and saw Drake walking towards her from the staff room. His own work shirt was draped over his shoulder, while he wore a loose-fitting, white undershirt.

"Hey, Drake!"

"Cerise." The two of them reached for their sweaters, which hung on the wall opposite the lockers. Hers was closer to him, so he took it off the hook and gave it to her. "You still need a ride home?"

"Yeah, that'd be awesome. My dad's celebrating his fiftieth today." She accepted her sweater, thanked him and put it on. Zippering it up mid-way, she waited for him to put his stuff into his locker.

"Fifty? Wow, tell him I said 'happy birthday'!"

"Better not," she smiled, folding her arms over her chest. "The less people know about his age, the happier he is. You're not the only who's surprised he's that old."

"Pshh, fifty isn't old. Tell him he still has half his life to live."

"And he'd say he just finished the better half." She walked alongside Drake, away from the lockers and back into the colossal storage room. "He's really moody around these birthdays of his."

"Not going to be a good party, then?"

"He's a bit happier when he's drunk."

"Who isn't?" Drake laughed, waving to Marina when they passed by her. "Take care, Marina."

"Bye, Drake. Tell your dad I wish him a happy birthday, Cerise!"

"For sure!" She headed towards the terminal that was positioned on the wall in the storage room, before going back onto the floor. "Have to clock out." Which she did hastily, then resumed walking and talking with Drake all the way from the inside of Superstore to his car, which sat close by the entrance in the parking lot.

When they were both in the car, Drake started the ignition, and quickly drove off. Loud music poured out of his speakers while grounded by a deep, reverberating sub-woofer, filled the cab. Lowering the volume, she also got buckled and faced Drake.

"You didn't hear Kylie did you?" Concern was written all over her face, which Drake took a moment to study before answering.

"Yes." He turned the wheel, accelerating the car onto a main artery in the city.

"I'm sorry."

Drake scratched the back of his neck, a nonchalant expression on his face. "I'm not. Neither should you. People just like to feel better about themselves, so they put down those who they deem beneath them. Happens all the time."

"But doesn't it bother you?"

"Cerise, you're beautiful." He responded with a genuine, kind smile. "You've always been; it's a gift I think. So of course, looks really matter to you, since they've become a big reason why people accept you. Whenever then, looks are criticized, be it yours or someone close, you feel for them, since how you look has always been important. But look at me, Cerise."

He took his eyes off the road for a second, so that Cerise got an eyeful of his face.

She bit her lower lip, staring into his eyes, not bothering to look at a face she knew as well as her own. "You're not ugly, Drake."

"Of course I am, Cerise. Physically, I'm deformed. It's something I've come to accept." He smiled at her, his tone gone of the bitterness or frustration she expected to hear. "But that's why it doesn't bother me—I'm okay with the deformities. When someone insults my looks, why should it bother me, if I give it no value? Do you feel insulted when someone mocks the garbage you keep in your garbage bins?"

"Your face and your looks are not akin to garbage, Drake. To me, actually, you look handsome."

He only grinned, turning into the suburbs where Cerise lived. "I'm glad that you think that, Cerise, but really, I don't care what people say about my face. It's amusing actually. It only hurts when they use that as a reason to treat me rudely."

"And they do."

"Yeah, I know." His smile faltered. His grip on the wheel tightened a bit more.

"I'm sorry, Drake. I just can't stand the way they talk about you." Cerise folded her arms over her chest, biting her lower lip.

"Thanks for worrying about me," he laughed good-naturedly, loosening his grip on the wheel. "Really though, I can handle it." She smiled sadly, which he returned with a small grin.

"I know you said you don't want it—but I'm convinced that someday, you will meet someone who will fall for you. Someone who thinks you're adorable and amazing."

The car turned down several quiet, lit up streets and crescents, which led to her house. Slowly, he pulled into the driveway, and then came to a stop behind a large gold, brown van.

With a soft smile, he shrugged. "Maybe you're right." He unlocked the car doors, and put the vehicle into park. "But like I said, I'm okay with being single."

"No one's okay with being alone, Drake." Cerise's eyes met his and she held his gaze firmly.

"Sometimes, it's not about what you want." He stared at her with his deep, kind eyes. "Now have a good night Cerise, I'll see you at work tomorrow."

Cerise nodded her head, smiling sadly. "Thanks for the ride."

"You're welcome." Smiling, he backed out of the driveway when she left the car and shut the door. He waved once more before turning onto her street and speeding away.

Cerise watched him go, her heart heavy and burdened. Sometimes, it's not about what you want, his words hit her more powerfully than he could ever know. Thinking about Nathan, she knew what she had to do.

What she would say when he came back.

She took her phone from her pocket, turning it on only to see an empty inbox. With a sigh, she put the phone back in her pocket and tried to get excited about the party that waited inside.

Chapter Six

______________

Julia drove her little, silver car down the dirt roads that crisscrossed the Albertan prairie countryside. Overhead, the sky was blanketed by thick, seamless clouds, which left only Julia's dim headlights to provide light on the road.

Beside her, texting away like her life depended on it, Kristen let out a laugh. "James just left the party; didn't even bring any of his friends with him, he just drove off."

"Oh dear," Julia rolled her eyes as she giggled, "what is wrong with him? Hasn't a girl ever turned him down before?"

"According to Mercedes," who Kristen was busy texting, "he's had a crush on you forever and was waiting for the perfect moment to ask you out. Guess it was all for nothing you heartbreaker."

"Had a crush on me forever? Mercedes is just saying that." Julia laughed, trying to imagine the built, green eyed, completely adorable boy in her class asking her out. He'd been either very drunk at the party or desperate—still, even if he was truly 'in love' with her, she'd never love him back.

"Nope, it's true."

Smiling, her face reddened with embarrassment. "I feel terrible! Even if he did deserve it. So he actually left the party?"

"Yep, and you'll never guess who he went after." Kristen grinned.

"No!" She turned to her friend, eyes wide. "He's going after me?"

"Guess so, should be darn near impossible, considering we're not even home yet."

"And we're not going to be! Can I please crash at your place for the night?"

"Sure." Kristen resumed texting Mercedes, getting all the details on what was happening at the party. "It's funny that he would make a move for you though. Everyone knows you don't date anyone."

Julia frowned, "I just haven't met the right person yet."

"What about the guy at camp? You texted me about him on like the first day. Said he was pretty cute. Did you two...?"

She blushed. "Yeah we did." Julia felt her phone vibrate. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out her phone and saw who the text was from. Inside, her heart, which was already sore from missing Steven, now beat madly. She read his text to her, a joyous smile on her face.

"No! No you didn't!" Kristen dropped her phone on her lap, gaping at Julia. "You didn't tell me!? This is crazy! You haven't dated in years! God, I have to tell Mercedes!"

Julia only smiled, thinking about her and Steven's last night at camp. "That is why I didn't tell you in the first place—now the whole school will know."

"So? It's about time your love life got some gossiping about. He's not even in our school, so who cares?" She put a hand on her friend's shoulder, "So how was it? You know...?" She pleaded with her for more information. In doing so, the phone that Julia had placed on her lap, slipped down her leg and landed on the floor.

"Calm down!" Julia laughed as she checked the dirt road ahead, making sure it was clear. She then bent down to retrieve her phone. Groping around in the dark, she only found pebbles and dirt on the carpeted dirty floor.

"Besides," Julia said as she got up, checking once more to see if the road was clear. "It doesn't matter, he lives so far away."

Kristen shook her head, a knowing grin on her face. "I know that look. And when we get to my place, you are telling me everything!" Laughing, she slid her phone in her pocket. "Here, I'll get the phone for you."

As Julia drove on, Kristen searched the ground for the phone, coming up a minute later with the phone in her grip. "Here you go." Julia took the phone from her, also sliding it into her pocket.

"So what's his name? You said he was from Winnipeg, right?"

Julia came up to an intersection and started to slow down. Turning to her friend, she smiled softly. "His name's Steven—"

A horn cut her off, Kristen screamed.

Julia was just lifting her head, when the entire cab lit up with a bright, blinding light.

An explosion sounded inside as well, followed swiftly by more screaming as time began to slow.

The front end of a vehicle was smashing through Kristen's side of the car, the light from its headlights illuminating the entire cab. Tiny fragments of glass filled the air, cutting into her skin.

Kristen's face froze in a mask of hideous pain, as her wider body was crushed in by the front of the truck. She spewed blood out of her open mouth.

Before time sped up again and Julia was knocked unconscious, she felt her friend's blood splatter on her bare knee.

All Julia could think of was Steven as she was lifted from her seat, her head slammed against the steering wheel.

However, as luck should have it, she did not share the same fate as her friend. Instead, her door had been left slightly ajar the entire car ride, since the sensor that indicated if all doors were closed had been broken for months.

So, propelled sideways by the forward motion of the colliding truck, she was shoved against the door, opening it and sailed out of the wreckage.

In her hand, she clutched her cell.

Against the rough, dirt road, she skidded to a stop away from the wreck. Blood seeped from gashes all over her body, while she fell into unconsciousness.

The phone, clutched in Julia's gnarled hand, vibrated.

That simple, familiar sensation ran up her blood-covered hand, up her lacerated arm and throughout her torn, bleeding, pale body.

It was enough to awake her, if just for a moment.

"Hey you," It was the first words that she'd spoken to the quiet, cute boy sitting under the oak tree. At camp, while her friends unloaded their bags and jogged over to their cabin, Julia had wandered down a dirt path, lost in thought.

In the hot, atrocious summer heat, she noticed that one of her fellow campers had taken refuge under a leaf-filled tree. Sweat beaded his brow, also dampening his white, tight-fitting shirt. In his hands, he held his cell, staring at the small, rectangular screen with a smile on his face.

She stopped walking, folding her arms over her chest. A smile of her own came to life on her face, as she stared at him. Though she was never sure why, the allure to go and introduce herself to him was too strong to resist.

Something, perhaps even a silly thing like fate, had put her legs into motion, so that she walked up to the boy.

Then, it had opened her mouth and caused her to speak two, simple words, "Hey you."

Now, lying on the dirt road, covered in blood and barely awake, she knew that boy was keeping her alive. Just thinking about him strengthened her heart, throwing away some of the pain.

"Steven." She mumbled under her breath, "I love you."

Turning her head, she stared at the wreckage, tears building in the corner of her eyes. Inside, her friend was mashed into the wreckage, likely dead or near to it.

There was nothing she could do to help her.

"Kristen..." she mumbled other words in an incoherent, dry voice.

Far away, she could hear the distant cry of sirens.

Would they save Kristen?

Would they save her?

Her phone vibrated again, startling her. Lifting her head, gasping for air as the pain intensified with her movement, she glanced at the phone. Again, it vibrated.

Slowly, she moved her hand up towards her chest, holding the cell so that she could see its luminescent screen. It was still on. Though it was cracked, the screen still told her that Steven had sent her several, unread messages.

Each of them was adorable, loving and brought tears to her eyes.

Painfully, she brought her fingers to the key-pad, trying to muster the strength to reply. Blood from her fingers gathered on the tiny, glowing keys. Still, she typed in two words, and pressed send.

"Love you." Her message read, but it wouldn't do. No, she needed to say one more thing before her strength finally left her.

Gasping for breath, her fingers feeling as if they were afire, she sent her final message to Steven, the man she loved.

And would always love.

The one who held her heart—the man in her dreams.

"Forgive me..." the phone fell from her hand, landing on her chest, and then rolling off onto the dirt road.

Chapter Seven

_________________

"I'm not going." Steven sat on the living room couch, staring at the television set as it blared loudly. He kept his blue eyes fierce and locked on his television program. One of his clenched fists held tightly onto the remote.

"Steven, we're going now." His father stood in the entry way to the living room, a toque covering his patchy, blond hair. He was leaning on the doorway, his eyebrows lowering and nose flaring. "Steven! We're going now!"

"You go!" Steven folded his arms over his chest, resisting the urge to storm off to his room. "I don't believe in that crap anymore! I'm not going! I told you last night, I'm done."

"Crap? Do you hear yourself?" His father took a step forward into the living room. "I don't care if you don't want to go; we're a family, Steven. We are going! When you're older, you can decide for yourself, but right now, you have to listen to me."

"Why?" Steven lowered the volume of the television, shifting his attention to his father. "Why, huh? So we can get more healing? So your cancer will go away? Nothing happened, Dad! Nothing. You're still sick, and they're still praying."

"Prayer isn't wish fulfillment, Steven. I know that it's hard to understand, but sometimes bad things happen to good people. That's how life is."

"I know that's how life is! I get it! I knew the moment Mom died that life sucks, okay? I understand." He let out a sigh, letting go of the remote. Staring up at his father, he still couldn't believe that he was leaving him. Even though the doctors said there was a good chance they could stop the cancer, he'd overheard the conversations he wasn't supposed to hear.

The ones where his father wasn't getting better.

The whispered words of a 'couple years' and 'terminal'.

His father's face softened, he took another step towards Steven. "That's why you need God, Steven. He can help and has helped us through hard times before. Even though things don't make sense, he always has a plan."

"A plan?" Steven scoffed with a shake of his head. "He's a monster if this is his plan. Kids aren't supposed to grow up without their parents!" He could feel a sob growing in his throat, while the tears welled up in his eyes.

Getting off the couch, he pointed at his dad. "You're not supposed to die!" Tears fell from his eyes, landing on the carpeted floor below.

"I'm not dead yet, Steven." He smiled at his son, his eyes also brimming with tears. "I'm still here, Steven. And the doctors said that I have years, maybe even decades ahead of me. I'll be here for you. And if I go, you always have God."

"I don't want 'God'." Steven shook his head, taking a step back. "I want you! The old you! The one that would talk to me, the one that would listen to me, the one that cared about me! Ever since Mom died, you act like you hate me!" Trembling, he couldn't stop the waterfalls roaring down his face.

"I don't hate you, Steven! I care about you! You're my son; I've only wanted the best for you. Yes, things have been different since Mom passed away, but some people just deal with pain differently."

"Differently? Differently!" Steven's eyes widened, his heart pounding with rage. That was all he could manage to say. His head lowered, while his breathed hard. When he calmed down, he stared up at his father, wishing for one thing: That his father would hold him.

Instead, he stood angrily in the doorway, his eyes filled with pain and uncertainty.

"I just want my dad back."

"I'm right here, Steven." However, he remained in the doorway, not taking a step forward. For all his talk of caring about him, Steven couldn't understand why he would do more to prove it. One could say they loved someone all they wanted, but if they did nothing to show it, those words were empty.

Steven took a tissue from the box sitting beside the couch. Blowing his nose, he took another step back. Glancing at the clock, he folded his arms over his chest. "You're going to be late for church."

"We're going to be late."

"I'm not going. I'm never going there again." Taking a seat on the couch, he sighed. Clearing his throat, he reached for the remote. "I'm tired of pretending to believe in a God I know doesn't exists. And if he does exist, then I want nothing to do with him. You might be okay with a god that hates you, but I'm not."

"He doesn't hate you."

"Stop trying to convince me, Dad. You can physically drag me to church if you want to, you can punish me until I have no choice but to go, you can do whatever you want to get me into that church—but it won't change the fact that I'm no believer."

Steven turned up the volume on the television, while his father stood there.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw his father turn around quietly. He took his coat from the closet near the doorway, put it on, and fished the keys out of his pocket. Opening the door, Steven felt his heart stop. His father was actually going to leave him here.

He wasn't sure if he should smile... or scream.

"Goodbye, Steven." His father went through the door and closed it behind him.

Shutting his eyes, his heart aching painfully, Steven swore under his breath. Turning off the television set, he curled up on the couch. For the entire morning, all he did was lie there, thinking over their conversation.

However, that had been the last fight he'd ever had with his father.

It was two years ago, two days after finding out that his father's cancer had taken a turn for the worse. Before that fight between them, Steven and his father had at least had the semblance of a relationship. After the fight, they were basically two strangers living in the same house.

Though Steven wasn't sure what motivated his father to stay so quiet, he was sure it wasn't hate. He'd thought a lot about why his father acted the way he did, the only conclusion he could come to, was that for some reason or another, his father blamed Steven for the death of his mother.

Steven, who was lying in his bed, stared at the alarm clock sitting on the side of his bed.

The digital read out, said "7:30" in the AM.

Unable to sleep for most of the night, he thought back on past memories, both happy and painful. He wanted to think about anything other than Julia no longer texting him, or the fact that he'd gone two nights without dreaming of her.

"Oh Julia," he unplugged his phone from his charger, seeing once again that his inbox was empty.

Sitting up in his bed, he stared at the mirror opposite him on his dresser, his reflection was that of a haggard, exhausted looking teen. Certainly not the way he wanted to appear on his first day of school.

In twenty minutes, after an especially hot shower, he was dressed, clean and looking good enough to earn a passing grade. Not that it mattered anyway; the only girl he wanted approval from was a good thousand kilometers away.

Heading downstairs, still zipping up his sweater, Steven found the kitchen fortunately empty. Grabbing a bowl from the cabinet and a clean spoon from the dishwasher, he went over to the table and poured himself a bowl of cereal.

Pulling up a chair, he stuck his spoon into his bowl, unable to put the food in his mouth.

Instead, he took out his phone and set it on the table. Staring at the screen, he wanted it so badly to vibrate and Julia's words to fill the screen.

"What does she want me to forgive her for?" He stared at the bowl of soggy, colorful cereal. His hand on his spoon, he lifted it to his mouth and realized it was empty.

All he tasted was metal.

All he felt was confusion and hurt.

Footsteps sounded from the hall, before his father entered the kitchen, donning a bathrobe. "I'm not used to seeing you up this early." Under his eyes, which were duller than usual, dark bags underlined them. Wrinkles, more pronounced than before, were deepening on his haggard face.

Yet, a smile had a found a home on his countenance.

"First day of school." Steven ate a spoonful of cereal, cringing at how soggy it'd become.

"But it's going to be your last first day." He plugged in the coffeemaker, filled it with water, and put in a new filter with coffee grinds to go with it. Taking a mug from out of the cupboards, he set it on the table in front of Steven. "I'm sorry about yesterday, Steven." Sighing, he took out a second mug. "Can I make you some coffee?"

"No thanks," he frowned, swallowing another spoonful of sugary mush. "I was thinking of going to Timmies before school."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah." Steven put down his spoon; wiping his mouth clean of leftover milk.

"Oh." He opened the cupboard, reaching for Steven's mug.

Before he could, Steven glanced at the coffeemaker and had a brief, disturbing vision of it sitting on the corner of the counter, covered in dust. The coffee was in the garbage, right along with his father's bathrobe that he wore every morning.

"You know what; I'll try some of it today." He smiled weakly, grabbing the mug before his father got to it.

His father paused, withdrew his hand while a frown crept onto his face. "You know I'm still here, Steven."

"But for how long?" A part of him wanted his father to say that the doctors were indeed wrong, that he still had years remaining. Decades. All he wanted was his father to receive the miracle that he claimed to believe would happen.

"How long do any of us have? Who says the healthy live longer than the terminally ill? Death comes to us all. I will pass away, be it in a month, or years to come. Just as long we're alive, focus on that."

Steven shrugged. "How can I focus on life, when death is so present?"

His father merely returned the shrug, pouring himself a cup of coffee. "You just do. Death should be a reminder to treasure our lives, not fear its demise." His eyes slowly began to water, turning away, he walked to the fridge. "Now you're going to be late."

He took the mug from his son's hand, placing it back in the cupboard.

Staring at his empty hands, a sliver of a tear ran down his face. "Okay, goodbye Dad." He walked around the table, wishing that the man would open his arms for a hug. Instead, they both stood there, staring at one another, before Steven turned away.

Without another word, he picked up his bag off the floor, took his keys off the counter and went out the door. Outside the air was still, cool—promising another chilly day in the late summer. A few leaves fell from the tree in the yard, twirling and falling to the ground.

One of them landed underfoot, which he crushed with his shoe.

Getting into his car, he drove down the driveway, and then towards his school. Most days, his father wouldn't let him take the car, but today, his father had no appointments and told Steven last night he was going to spend the day working on some of his music.

The last time he'd written a song was a month before his mom died.

Traffic was light on that Wednesday morning, which was a relief to Steven, who was actually running quite late. He didn't even bother to grab a coffee; there'd be no time this morning. Later on at lunch, he'd go out to Timmies and grab his java.

A mixture of dread and anticipation filled his stomach as he came towards Christian Lighthouse Collegiate. While he dearly missed his friends, and the great times they'd had in grave eleven, he was not anticipating the tests, homework, lectures and unnecessary drama.

"Here it goes," Steven signaled he was turning right, spun the wheel and drove into the crowded parking lot. One of his friends, Jasper, walked in the middle of the road. Laughing, Steven laid on the horn, startling a couple girls beside his car as they gave him bewildered looks.

Jasper only turned around, a dopey smile on his face. He shouted something, but Steven couldn't hear, so he rolled down his window and drove closer to his friend. "What was that?"

"Steven! You still drive your dad's wheels?"

"Of course, it's a great car." Both of them laughed, while Jasper waved and waited for Steven to park his car.

When Steven stepped out of his car, the two friends embraced in a manly fashion. Walking side by side, they strolled through the parking lot towards the school.

"So, what's new?" Jasper asked, his green eyes now framed with thick, dark glasses.

"Nothing really, it's been a relaxing summer. What about you?" Steven did a double take, a smile growing on his face. "Nice glasses by the way." He elbowed his friend, a teasing smirk on his face. He remembered when his friend refused to wear glasses, saying that he could see fine by simply squinting.

"You like them? Have them if you want, it's only been a few weeks since I got them and I'm sick of them already. I swear, how do people get used to these?" He adjusted them on his face, doing so in the geekiest manner in which he could.

"Nah, they're sexy. You'll be getting all the hunnies now." Steven laughed, while his friend gave him a slight shove.

"I don't need glasses to do that." He winked, catching the door to the front of the school before it closed. Holding it open for both of them, he smiled. "Speaking of which, how was camp? You finally meet someone?"

Steven wanted to say 'yes'.

"No." Steven shook his head, moving slowly beside his friend through the crowded hall. Glancing around at the numerous students, he smiled at those he recognized, while greeting those who came up to them. Jasper did likewise.

"Is your father doing better?" Jasper asked as they entered a less-crowded, brightly lit hallway.

Steven shook his head, taking his cell from his pocket and looking for a text from Julia.

Not surprisingly, he was still met by an empty inbox.

Inside, he felt a sickening, worried feeling growing.

"The cancer's spread, nothing worked." With a grim frown, Steven switched the conversation. He didn't want to cry on his first day of school. "What's your first class?"

"English."

"Sweet! Same with me." Steven was about to say something more, but someone down the hall caught his attention.

Turning around, her arm filled with books, her eyes widened when she saw her two friends. "Steven!" She gently pushed her way down the hall, running towards her best friend. "Oh my god, I flipping missed you!" Putting down her books, she gave him a tight, warm hug.

"Oh hi, Leanne. Nice to see you. How am I? Oh, I'm good." Jasper leaned against the wall, staring at her with a smirk. "You had a good summer? Oh great to hear, so did I." He rolled his eyes, when she continued to ignore him, talking rabidly with Steven.

"Oh don't worry about me; I think we're over though." He mumbled indirectly.

"What did you say?" This time she heard him, slapping him on the shoulder. "Nice to see you too Jasper. Jeez, can't I just have a moment with Steven?"

"Oh that you heard?" Chuckling, he stood up straight and embraced Leanne warmly. She put her hand on his shoulders, leaning in for a kiss. They both whispered words to one another, while Steven watched them with an amused, yet longing smile.

He wished his girlfriend was waiting for him at school.

"Well I think that'll be my cue to leave."

"Just give us a second—" Jasper gave Leanne one more kiss, before following his friend down the hall. Leanne walked by Steven's other side, the three of them catching up on the last month of summer they'd spent mostly apart.

Well Jasper and Leanne had spent nearly every day together.

Being what he and Julia could never be—even though they dreamed.

"Here's your Pumpkin Spice Latte." A young man working at the Starbucks drive-thru window handed her the steaming, hot drink. Smiling at the pretty girl, he leaned on his counter, sticking his frizzy-hair covered head out of the window.

With a half-smile, his head cocked, he began what Cerise had heard an awful lot. "I never do this, like ever." He chuckled, wiping a greasy, curly strand of hair out of his eyes. "But are you busy this weekend?"

"No." She sipped from her drink, "Are you?" Cerise grinned, amused by the passionate twinkle in the man's gaze. She took another sip from her drink, relishing the warm, sweet taste.

"I could be. Name's Liam." Again, he chuckled, just like he'd said something irresistible and charming. "Here, give me your number and you can think about it." He took a napkin from a dispenser nearby, glancing behind him to make sure his manager hadn't noticed.

"Thanks," she took the napkin, using it wipe some of the latte from her upper lip. "But I don't have a pen, Liam. And you should really consider this a lesson learned: when a woman asks for a coffee—that's all she wants." Winking at him, she closed her window and drove away.

Laughing, she took another sip from her latte, but only ended up spewing it on the dash of her car. Wiping her mouth, she muttered something about karma, and concentrated on driving to school.

Nathan had texted her.

Turned out, though he hadn't told anyone back in Winnipeg, there'd been a horrible accident where he was visiting. His cousin and a few of his friends were involved in a fatal crash on Monday night. The funeral would be next week, but Nathan was in too much shock to stay with his extended family, so he came home early yesterday, Wednesday afternoon.

Early in the morning, before she'd gone to school, Cerise had finally received a text from him. Several, actually; detailing what had happened in Alberta. Although she didn't notice it at first, when she read them over, she could see that something had deeply changed in Nathan.

Perhaps it was the shock, but there was no empathy in his words.

He'd only told her the facts, said he'd like to get together for lunch and then ended with a weak, trite goodbye. There was no "I love you" or "miss you so much" from him—not even a symbolized heart.

All he wanted was to get together for lunch.

Cerise knew that if she was actually going to go through with her plans, it would have to be done at lunch. She couldn't give Nathan the time for him to change her mind about him. If she let him, her boyfriend could win her heart back.

Even though he'd just been in a serious accident, she couldn't delay the break up one more day. Yes, it would hurt, but at least it would be the right thing to do. Something she should've done a while ago.

A part of her wished, however, that he would cancel their lunch. She thought of seeing him and her stomach tied itself into knots, while her heart hammered away in her chest.

For the entire morning, no matter what she did, her mind was plagued relentlessly by thoughts of Nathan.

Oh well.

When the bell rang for the end of her third class, Cerise quickly stood up. Slinging her purse over her shoulder, binders in hand, she ran to her locker. Ignoring one of her friends, probably Marie, she put away her binders, left the hall and walked quickly down the stairs. Weaving in and out of the crowds of teenagers, she hurried through the lobby towards the front doors of the school.

Inside the lobby, a tree was positioned in the centre, guarded by padded benches. On the bench, her friend Andrea sat with her boyfriend Tyler.

"Cerise!" Andrea stood up while Tyler was in the middle of a story, embracing her friend with an enthusiastic shriek. "It's been so long! Sorry I couldn't make it to Tim Horton's! Oh my gosh, I love your hair, how did you get your curls to look like that?" She gushed out, while Cerise opened her mouth to speak.

"Awe thanks." She returned the hug, giving Tyler a short wave as he stared at them with an amused smirk. "It's okay about Tim Horton's, I went with—never mind, I have to go out and meet Nathan."

"Nathan's here?" Andrea was oblivious to what had happened between them, so she smiled broadly at her friend. "Awe that's adorable! What are your plans?" She lowered her voice, a knowing look in her eyes. "It's been a week you know?"

"It's just lunch," she turned away, wishing that she didn't have to. She'd rather be with her friends, instead of at the crossroads, unsure of which way to turn.

"Got it. "Lunch"." Grinning, she sat back beside her boyfriend, taking his hand in hers.

Cerise had only taken one step out the door when she saw Nathan standing outside. He stood in front of the school, out on the pavement, his muscular arms folded across his chest. Sunglasses, with a white outline, sat on his tanned, handsome face.

Instead of a smile, he had a frown plastered to his lips. Removing the glasses, he gave her a short wave. "Hey, Cerise."

Hesitantly stepping towards him, Cerise returned the short wave. "Hey, Nathan."

Walking down the sidewalk towards her boyfriend, she felt no urge to run to him. Where usually she would yell his name and run into his arms, there was only dread in her heart.

Opening her arms, she gave him a short hug, waiting for him to return the gesture.

He did not.

Limply, he pattered her on the back.

His body, usually familiar and warm, was so rigid and distant that she took a step back, making sure this actually was Nathan. One look into his green eyes, told her that this was the same man that had promised to love her forever.

The same man that had broken her heart numerous times, only to beg her if she'd let him put it back together. The silly girl in her had always relented, letting the tornado fix the town it had just demolished. Perhaps she deserved all this heartbreak for letting the destroyer become the fixer, only to destroy all over again.

"I'm so sorry about your cousin, Nathan." She reached for his hand, but he drew it behind his back.

Putting his shades back on, he nodded his head. "Me too."

Walking back down the sidewalk, Cerise followed him. In awkward silence they strolled down the pavement, towards the parking lot sitting outside of the school. Not even the cool breeze was as cold as his tone as he told her they were going to Olive Garden for lunch.

When they approached his car, she remembered what he had told her two months ago.

As she opened her car door, she recalled this as the place where Nathan told her he would marry her. Being the gentleman, he had opened her door, waiting as she stepped out of the car. She'd thanked him for the amazing date, when he'd wrapped her in his arms, kissing her lightly on the lips, then passionately as she kissed him back.

Falling to his knees, her body leaning against the side of the car, he looked straight in her eyes.

He didn't even blink.

"I love you Cerise, and I always will. Maybe this is crazy, maybe this is too soon. But I don't care." He opened up a little box, which he'd kept in his jacket pocket. Inside, a golden ring, bejeweled by a marvelous, sparkling diamond awaited her appraisal. "This is a promise, Cerise. Not a question, not an invitation, or a suggestion. A promise. I want you to remember every word. I will marry you, Cerise, I love you. Some day, when both of us are older, and more in love, I will give you this ring."

He'd closed the box, putting it back in his jacket. "But I couldn't wait that long to tell you that I love you—and want to spend the rest of my days with you."

Cerise did not remember her response, or what happened after that. All she could recall was his promise, which as he asked, she remembered every word of.

Now, she could only hope that he'd forgotten about it.

"I'm glad your back, Nathan." She said, putting on her buckle.

Keys in hand, he started the car and slowly backed out. When they were on the road, he finally spoke up, his voice husky. "I missed you too."

Cerise remembered days when she would reply "I miss you more".

The rest of the ride was filled with silence, broken apart only when another car pulled ahead of them and Nathan commented that it was time to race. Cerise made no additional comment, choosing, instead, to stare out the window, contemplating how she was going to break his heart.

And she wondered which was crueler: to break the heart through words, or through actions? Who was really breaking up with whom? Sure they were together by title, but Nathan had smashed her heart to pieces long before she planned on telling him they were over.

Nathan continued to drive, his mouth kept in a straight, serious frown.

He'd never been one for theatrics or drama, which made her wonder why he was acting the way he was now. It wasn't his somberness that bothered her; it was how hastily he would look at her, before looking away. How he didn't want to touch or look at her.

Did he know what she was going to say?

Inside the restaurant, after they'd been served, he began to open up. Breadstick in hand, about to take a bite, he asked how her day was.

"It was okay," she answered, taking a sip of her iced tea. "Yours?"

"Kind of sucked actually," he laughed sardonically, taking another bite of his breadstick. He propped his arm up on the table, and rested his chin on his folded hands. "I'm guessing 'okay' is code for 'my day sucked as well'."

"You know me too well." Cerise jabbed at her salad with her fork, taking a small mouthful. She savored the delicious bite, swallowed, and knew what her next words had to be. If she didn't say it now, she never would.

"I do." Looking down at his plate, he wrapped up some spaghetti around his fork.

"Then I think you know what I'm going to say next." Putting down her fork, Cerise resisted the urge to drink more of her beverage and waited for Nathan to look her in the eyes.

"I actually don't." He continued eating, his cool green eyes resting on her.

Cerise took in a deep breath, closing her eyes in an attempt to relax. "Then I'm sorry if this comes as a surprise. Nathan, I'm just going to say it: we're over."

Nathan's eyes dropped to his plate as he took another bite. Speaking with a mouth full of food he said, "What was that?"

"I'm breaking up with you, Nathan. I'm sorry." Cerise pushed her chair back, glancing at her boyfriend as he continued eating. With a sigh, she folded her arms over her chest. "I'll pay for the bill up at the front, but I have to go. I can't do this."

"We're not over. You're just mad. Come on, let's finish this meal and catch up." Nathan tore off another bite of his breadstick. "We can talk about it."

"No, Nathan. We can't talk about it. I know that you'll change my mind. I don't want a huge fight, or argument. For now, all I want to be is alone. Give us both some time to think." Cerise took another step away from the table, watching as her boyfriend finally put down his fork.

"You're not breaking up with me." He chuckled to himself, sitting back in his chair. "I promised you, remember? I promised that I would always love you. That I would always be there for you. You can't break a promise, Cerise."

"I never made that promise, Nathan. I did love you once, but those days are long past."

"You said 'yes' though! When I told you that I would marry you, you said 'yes'. It's a promise for the both of us, Cerise. I can't keep it, if you leave me."

She shook her head. "Then it was a promise neither of us should've made."

"But I did make it, damn it!" Standing up, he took a step forward, reaching out with his hands. "You can't just leave me like this!"

"Please, you have to let me go Nathan."

"No!"

A few people in the restaurant stared at them, their curiosity most likely piqued by his raised, bellowing voice.

Cerise saw an intensity in his eyes that she'd never seen before. Before she could get away, he had her arm in his hand. Holding her tightly, he pleaded with her, his lips trembling. "I promised, Cerise! I promised to love you forever!" His voice shook, while his fingers tightened on her arm.

In his eyes, the intensity was replaced by a darkness she'd never seen before.

In that moment she knew, that all his love was just 'want'. Lust.

"Nathan, let me go!" She yanked her arm away from his grip.

"No!" He reached for her arm again.

Then she slapped him across the face, her breathing hard and erratic.

Everyone in the restaurant disappeared from view; all she could see was Nathan reeling from her hit. He held his face with his hand, his cheek burning red. His other hand was clenched into a fist, which he held by his side.

Gulping nervously, she stood her ground, dreading his next move or words.

"Fine." He brushed past her, sending her reeling into the table, and falling to the floor. Storming down the hall, he flipped over the tray a waitress was holding and headed towards the exit doors. Before he left the eatery, his eyes landed on hers, now filled with anger, perhaps even hate.

"I'm sorry, Nathan." Her voice fell, and then broke as the tears finally came. As she lay on the ground, several others came to her aid.

"Let me help you up." A man's voice came from behind her, but Cerise ignored it. She got back on her feet, brushing a few crumbs from her shorts. Those who had gathered around her slinked back to their chairs, staring at her out of the corner of their eyes.

A waitress with a pretty smile asked if she was alright.

"I'm sorry about that," with weak, trembling legs; she took a seat at her table. "I'll pay for his bill; you don't have to go after him."

"We'll take care of that sweetie," she smiled at her, her eyes filled with sympathy. "Can I get you anything else?"

"No, I'm not hungry. Thanks." Cerise went back to her table.

On the table, she saw something glistening. The promise ring he would give her when she finished school. It sat on the table, its diamond shimmering lonely and forgotten.

Picking it up, she slowly slid it on her finger.

But it was just a ring, empty of any meaning.

And its promises.

Chapter Eight

________________

Steven's eyes opened.

For the third time, he awoke somewhere else other than his bedroom.

No blankets surrounded him, nor was he in a dark room with a fan lazily spinning overhead. He couldn't hear his father coughing from downstairs, his cries of agony echoing in the silent house. Underneath his head, there was no soft pillow to comfort him.

Once again he was dreaming, just as he had in the brightly lit valley, and in the hot air balloon floating in space. Only this time, Julia was not standing over him, her eyes filled with love and expectation.

Instead, lying on a cracked, worn out road, rain falling from dark, ominous clouds, Steven found himself drenched and confused. His pajama pants were wet like they'd been dropped in a lake, pulled out and put on.

Before he rubbed the eye-sand from his eyes, he noticed his hands were an odd grey color, with grit and dirt sticking to his skin. Drops of water dripped from his hands and onto his face as he blinked away the grime.

What kind of dream was this?

Easing himself up, glancing for cars he saw that the road was entirely clear.

Nothing else but the rain moved in the dreary, grey dream.

There were no sounds either.

Not even the pitter-patter of rain on the cement could be heard.

The wind, which was evidently there by the jittering leaves, couldn't be heard in the treetops.

"Julia!" He opened his mouth to speak, but couldn't hear himself talk. "Julia!" He cried as loud as he could, cupping his hands around his mouth. Still, he could hear nothing.

There was no low hum, ambient noises, or whistle that came with silence.

There was nothing to be heard, nothing, at all.

Staring in either direction down the road, all he could see were single-story, colorless houses. They lined the road like headstones, more than places that anyone would ever want to live in. Hundreds, thousands of them stretched as far as his eyes could see.

"Where am I?"

It was a dream, yet so entirely different from the past two experiences. It was certainly realistic in some aspects, yet unlike the prior dreams, his senses were dulled. In those dreams, it was as if every sense was amplified. Even his emotions had been felt more strongly in the dreams.

This place was void of any spectacular feelings or emotions, just as it was drained of any color, or any sound.

Just as it was empty of Julia.

"Where are you!?" He screamed as loud as he could, straining his jaw, but not making a sound.

Frustrated, he stalked off the street, onto the grass, which was an unsettling grey color. Underfoot, the water from the sky above was also grey, not brown or earthy. Everywhere he looked, color was nowhere to be seen.

While the rain kept pouring.

The wind blowing.

Trying to dry himself, Steven shook his head like a dog. He pinched some of his shirt off his skin, then let go as it stuck to him like spandex.

"Steven..." In a world without noise, that small whisper sounded like a gunshot. Steven stopped, listened for the voice again, but couldn't hear anything. Scanning the houses nearby, he saw that one had its front door wide open. Unable to resist his curiosity, he approached the house, keeping an ear open for that voice to sound again.

Walking up the sidewalk, which went directly to the front door, splitting the lawn in half, he realized that something else was wrong.

There were no shadows.

What had caused such confusion and disorientation in him earlier, must've been the lack of shadows. Now that he stared around, he could clearly see that though there was certainly light coming through the dark, rain-filled clouds, no shadows were cast.

It was as if a clumsy artist had crafted the dream, forgetting to include the most important aspects.

An unfinished dream.

He crossed the threshold, stepping into the house, an uneasiness growing inside. It wasn't familiar, not at all. Inside, the place was falling to pieces. There was nothing in the house, furniture, walls, carpets, ceiling, supports, braces, floor, that wasn't in complete disrepair.

It was such an ugly, dilapidated thing, seemingly ripped out of any cliché, generic haunted house movie.

"Steven..." Again, he could hear the whisper calling out his name.

"Who are you?" Steven was unable to make a sound with his voice. Scanning the dark, eerie stillness of the house, he saw that there was nothing able to make any noises. Perhaps they were originating from his own head.

Maybe he was going insane.

Steven was about to turn around and leave the house, when he saw a shadowy blur out of the corner of his eye. Abruptly swiveling to face the inhabitant, his heart racing, he studied the living room.

"Hello?"

Again, his silent voice was useless.

He took a shaky step forward, eyes wide for any signs of whoever lived in the house. There was, leaning against a wall, a broken hockey stick, boasting of no particular team. Feeling both foolish and protected by wielding the piece of sporting equipment, he took another step forward.

Before him, the old living room, complete with couches, a broken television set and low-stooping tables, awaited his exploration. Lying on one of the couches, face up, was an oddly titled book.

"And I Dreamed." It was titled, looking at the author, his eyes widened. He squinted, making sure that his eyes weren't deceiving him. "A novel," it read on the front cover of the book, "by Thomas Newman."

Staring at the written words inside, he was disappointed to see they were in an indecipherable scrawl. Even if it was English, Steven couldn't tell when one word began and the other ended. "He must've been a doctor," he muttered to himself, his voice continuing to be silent.

Setting the book back on the couch, Steven went into the adjacent room.

It was the dining room.

At the centre of the room, a large, oak table stood proudly. It was nearly untouched—in perfect condition, while the remainder of the house was falling to pieces. "Phew," he was startled though, when he saw what stood right at the center of the furnishing.

A tombstone.

The simple, concrete marker stuck out of the table, leaning on its side. Written on its chipped, colorless surface was a familiar name. "Markus Anderson." Underneath his name, were the dates: "1995-2008".

Shuddering, Steven exited the dining room and was about to leave the house entirely.

However, a voice stopped him right in his tracks. "So you're my replacement?"

Steven turned around, coming face-to-face with a living corpse.

Shouting, he leapt backwards, tripping on his own feet and falling on the couch. He raised his hands in defense, cowering as the monstrosity limped towards him. Again, it spoke to him through its rotting, decaying face. "Run."

"What?"

"Run!" The monstrosity shrieked, its wretched face contorting as it raised its hands towards the roof. It began to tremble, and then shake, as its entire body slowly became dark, grey ashes. In seconds, all that remained of the hideous creature was a pile of ash.

Steven took the creature's advice.

Scrambling to his feet, Steven clambered over the couch.

Getting to his feet, he noticed that where there had been a front door, was now only a hallway. To his left and his right were only walls adorned with pictures of people he didn't know or recognize in the slightest. Putting a hand on the wall, he could feel the peeling, rough wallpaper on his fingertips.

"None of this is real," he muttered to himself, finding that sound had now returned to the dream. "None of it!" He shouted, hoping that the monstrosity could hear him—and know that he wasn't afraid.

He punched the wall, satisfied when all his hand did was shake and tremble.

Yet there was no pain.

"Julia! Julia if you can hear me, you have to let me know!" Slowly, he ventured down the hall, stopping every few steps to look at the framed pictures hanging on nails on the wall.

In every single picture, the person or people would have that same, lost expression on their face. On the corner of every picture, behind the glass, were numbers written in white ink. Studying the numbers, he noticed that all of them were in chronological order. The further he went down the hall, the higher the numbers grew. "90874, 90875, 90876..." and so on the numbers went.

Before him, the hall continued to stretch on and on, ending in a small pinprick of light.

He began to run.

"Julia!" He shouted in-between labored breaths. "Julia!" The more he ran, the more he could see the end of the hall. There was a door, slightly ajar, with a lamppost standing beside it.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw a familiar face on one of the photographs.

He stopped, stared and gasped as he recognized the young man in the picture.

"What?" He tried to take the picture off the wall, but found it wouldn't budge. "So weird." He muttered, as he stared at a picture of himself he couldn't remember having been taken. In it, all that was revealed were bare shoulders and his face. It had to be a recent picture, for no dust coated the frame or glass like the others.

On the corner, the number "190322" was written in white ink.

Letting go of the photograph, he saw that the door at the end of the hall was near. It was open a crack, bright light shining through onto the dark, hallway floor.

"Julia!" He called out.

Before going inside the room, he turned around. Gone, he noticed, were all the photographs that had been on the wall. The walls, floor and ceiling were bare. At the far end, he saw water pouring down the hall, rushing towards him.

Instead of waiting to see what would happen when the wall of water met him, he opened the door and slammed it behind him.

Inside, he saw that he had entered a well illuminated room with poster covered walls, carpeted floor and all of it in perfect condition. To one corner, a bed, outfitted with blankets and a duvet, held Julia.

Stark naked, her pale body glistening with sweat, she lay completely still. Only her rising and falling chest gave any hint of life.

Biting his lower lip, a tad embarrassed to see her in such a way, he approached the bed. "Julia?" This time, he could hear his voice loud and clear. "Are you alright?" He fought the urge to stare at her exposed, beautiful body and instead covered it with a sheet folded at the foot of her bed.

"Julia?" He gently put his hand on her forehead.

Her eyes snapped open.

And so did his.

Except, when he opened his eyes, he was back in his bed, staring up at a dark ceiling, with a fan circling overhead. His body was covered in sheets and dry clothes, not the rain-soaked ones he'd just been donning.

"Julia, what's happened to you?" He muttered aloud, his heart clamoring in his chest.

He reached for his phone, which sat on a dresser beside his bed. Turning it on, he saw the screen was blank, meaning no new messages. Angrily, he placed it back on the dresser, lay still in his bed and willed himself to go back inside that dream.

He needed to see Julia.

Except, try as he might, sleep evaded him the entire night.

Chapter Nine

_______________

Her fingers danced slowly down the silky fabric, tracing the attractively colored pattern. On one of those fingers, a golden ring was wrapped firmly around it. A single, diamond adorned one section of the golden band, glimmering lightly. She dropped the scarf on the ground, her throat momentarily constricting as the ring now brought to her heart new significance.

Cerise, her heart aching, picked up the scarf, while her eyes remained locked on the ring.

The jewel kept shimmering, mocking her with its clear, crisp light.

"This is ridiculous." Closing her eyes, she slid the ring off her finger, squeezed it in her palm and stuck it in her jean short's pocket.

Though the ring's significance had gone when Nathan did, she couldn't bring herself to throwing away the ring. Gollum probably would've had an easier time letting go.

Around her, in the crowded store known as Ardene's, customers swarmed the clothes rack, talking to their friends and critiquing or praising the clothes they found. One of them brushed up against her, almost knocking her off balance into the rack of scarves she'd been inspecting.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" The man that had bumped against her was actually not really a man at all, but a teenager around her age. His straight, short black hair was tucked under a familiar toque, while light stubble swarmed his tanned, firm jaw.

Their eyes met, hers a dark, plain brown, while his eyes were brilliantly blue.

Familiar, comforting, eyes that she had once stared at in admiration—perhaps even love.

"Steven?" Cerise let out a surprised laugh, stepping towards her old friend. "What are you doing in Ardene's?"

Several people pushed gently past them, so Steven and Cerise both stepped out of the way, into a more secluded, narrow aisle devoted to jewelry and purses.

"My friend Leanne dragged me in here." He laughed, turning his head, so he could see more of the store and find his friend. "My other friend Jasper's here too, but he refused to go inside with us. I think he went to another store, Boathouse maybe." Again, his deep, rich laugh met her ears, causing her to involuntarily chuckle along.

"Jasper and Leanne? They don't go to your church, do they?" Cerise remembered when they were children; Steven had often invited her to attend church with him. Most Sundays she'd oblige, happily ready to spend time with her childhood friend, even if it was in an old, boring church.

When they started to date for a short while, she'd begun to go to church more frequently. Jasper and Leanne, the only other kids who went to the church, quickly befriended her and she slowly began to warm to the services.

She began to read the Bible that Steven had gifted her for her twelfth birthday.

She would even pray; though oftentimes her prayers would only bounce off the ceiling or float aimlessly into the air.

After her break up with Steven, she stopped praying all together, her Bible found a nook under her bed and all desire to attend church dried up.

"Oh right, you know them." He smiled, "Weird, I completely forgot about that. Do you want to be reintroduced to them? Leanne's just right over there."

When Cerise looked, she met eyes with her old friend, who was at the far end of the store. She didn't wave or acknowledge her. Instead, she kept on browsing a metal display, which was covered in shirts. Holding one in her hand, she looked at it, then saw Steven and waved him over.

"Oh I dunno. I was thinking of meeting one of my friend's later on." Cerise replied, thinking of her plan to get together with Drake later on in the day. She had wanted to go early and spend some of her hard-earned cash on new clothes.

"Are you sure you don't just want to say, 'hi'?" He slowly began walking towards Leanne, keeping his eyes trained on Cerise, his lips sporting a half-grin. "C'mon, we won't keep you long."

Or so had been his intention and hers when she finally agreed to say 'hi' to her old friend. She'd followed Steven towards Leanne, who was shocked to see her and wrapped her in a tight, warm hug. Surprised, Cerise returned the hug.

It wasn't long before the three of them were lost in a conversation about old times. Cerise slowly forgot, though temporarily, about Nathan and the heartbreak that he'd so ruthlessly caused. Instead, she talked and laughed openly with two people that she'd once called her closest and best friends.

The ring her pocket could no longer be felt.

For a good half hour, they walked around the mall, meeting up with Jasper and starting the introductions all over again. The four of them went to numerous stores, catching up, looking at merchandise, and quickly losing track of time.

When Steven suggested they all see a movie, Cerise automatically agreed with the idea. All thoughts about her misery, heartbreak and Nathan were washed away.

Yet, so was Drake.

She never thought once about her good friend, instead when the movie began to play, she turned off her phone and was unaware of her friend trying to reach her through texts.

Sitting in the rickety, hard theater chair, Cerise stared up at the screen and tried to let the movie envelope her. Slumping into her chair, she rested her head against her seat, letting the sounds, music and dialogue take her away.

No matter how hard she tried though, the movie could simply not draw her in.

Again, the ring in her pocket became a brick. She pulled it out of her pocket, fingering the smooth, yet smudgy golden surface. She remembered the first time he'd let her wear it.

When she'd asked him for it, he told her that he wanted to save it for his proposal. However, she recalled, there was one amazing night when he changed his mind for a short while.

Nathan had taken her up to his cabin for one hot, sunny summer weekend, a month ago. After a day of swimming and fishing—per his request since Cerise thought nothing was worse than catching slimy fish, and he thought it was mankind's greatest pastime—he'd taken her inside, where his parents had cooked up steak and potatoes.

His parents had gone outside to sit by the fire, while the two lovers had sat on opposite sides of a great, circular wooden table. They slowly ate their meal, which took over their conversation with deliciousness and good wine.

She'd only spoken when he gave her a ring, the one that she now held in her hand. Without an explanation, he slipped it on her fingers, a large and adorable smile on his face. "I love you," was all that he said, before kissing her finger. Excusing himself from the table, he went to the CD player and put on their favorite song.

"Perfect" by Hedley.

He waited for her in the living space, swaying rhythmically to the music. Holding out his hand, he waited for her to join in. Giggling, she came to him, dancing to the music as he held her lovingly.

In the large wooden cabin, for just a few minutes of the song's duration, Cerise melted into his arms. The ring sat tightly on her finger, reminding her of its presence and what it symbolized.

She wondered if breaking it now would complete the metaphor.

"Nathan?" Steven's soft, gentle voice startled her. Looking up at him, she put the ring back in her pocket, a forced smile on her face. "Did he give that to you?"

"Yeah." She gave a shrug as if their long relationship was a silly, two day fling.

He hesitated, and then put his arm on her armrest, leaning in closer. "Is it over?"

Mint, his breath carried a strong, rather nice mint scent. "I keep feeling like I did something wrong." Her brown eyes darted to his, while her lips shrunk into a bitter frown. "I keep asking myself what would've happened if we didn't break up. A part of me is glad it's over, another part doesn't understand how it could be."

"You did the right thing."

"Did I?" Cerise pulled away, wishing he wouldn't treat her like a victim. "Because when you love someone, you don't leave them because you're having a bad day or having problems. You're not supposed to break up with someone you love, Steven. Simple."

"How did you know you loved him? Trust me Cerise, you're an amazing girl, you deserved far better."

"Comforting words coming from someone who treated me nearly the same way." She folded her arms over her chest, trying not to sigh too loudly. Or cry. Instead, she closed her eyes, feeling guilt over her bitter remark. "I'm sorry," she said after a long moment of silence, "I didn't mean that. We were young and stupid; I don't hold it against you."

Steven, who shrank back into his seat, said nothing in return.

Cerise shut her eyes, angry that the tears were trying to escape their confines. "God, ugh, I'm sorry." She got up, taking her purse off the floor. Hurriedly, she pushed past people's knees as she made her way down the row of occupied seats.

"Cerise," he pushed open the heavy, plastic doors to the doorway of the theatre and fast-walked over to her. "Hey, are you alright?"

She turned around, her face slightly hidden by her sleeve-covered arm. Her face was bright red, while tears dampened her sleeve. Her brown eyes, red and swollen peeped out at him. "No... I'm not."

She began to turn away from him; however, he called out to her again.

Another couple, ordering popcorn and drinks, glanced at them curiously. One of the theatre attendants walked past them, a disinterested expression on her thin, pretty face.

"Listen, I may have hurt you before, but you have to know I'm so sorry about that."

Cerise remembered the last day that she had seen Steven.

School had already started, while the hot days of summer were being replaced by the coolness of autumn. One afternoon, when they both came home from school, he invited her over to his yard. Instead of holding her hand, he kept a good distance between them as he walked her to a hammock.

Strung up by two trees in his backyard, it swung lazily in the breeze.

Steven took a seat, waited for her to join him, and then said the last words he would ever say to her. It would be the last time she'd hear his voice until a few days back, when he called out her name from the balcony.

"Cerise, I've been thinking about this a lot. I just want to be friends. I don't want a relationship between us. I don't like you like that anymore." As the hammock swung gently, his words hit her like a bullet.

For a long, painful second, neither of them spoke a word.

Cerise ended the silence with a long, drawn out sigh. Although she did not remember what she'd said in return, she did remember walking away. Her heart so twisted in knots that she found it hard to breathe.

Although afterwards, she'd meant to see him again, she just never followed through on her plans. Neither did he. Their paths, that had met and been so close at one point, had stretched in opposite directions.

Now, five years later, she found herself wishing so badly that Steven hadn't let her go on that crisp, autumn day. If only he'd stayed with her, perhaps she wouldn't have met Nathan, and the other guys that had stolen everything from her. Maybe, she would still be in love with him.

"I really am sorry about hurting you like that." Steven repeated, his eyes searching hers.

"Its fine, Steven." She was about to turn away, when he took her hand, holding it tightly.

"I know it really doesn't feel like it, Cerise, but breaking up with Nathan was good for you. He was a jerk, a monster."

"Everyone can be a monster, Steven. But you love them regardless, not for what you dislike about them, but for what you love about them." Her voice chocked out by tears, she closed her mouth and said nothing more.

"Not everyone's a monster... no one's perfect, but I can promise you that there are genuinely good, loving people in this world. Nathan wasn't the right guy, but some day, you'll meet someone who will love you, Cerise. Love you with all he has."

"I have to go." She uncovered her face, turned away and walked through the centre of the theatre's lobby. Without looking back, she exited the theatre lobby, back into the mall and came face to face with Drake.

"Cerise?" Her friend, who'd been sitting on a bench outside of the theater, phone in hand, stood up. With a worried expression, he put away his phone and folded his arms over his chest.

"Drake!" She remembered telling him that she would meet him at the mall. Her heart, already battered by brutal emotions, was added to it a heavy layer of guilt. "I'm so sorry," her breaking voice did not adequately describe how horrible she felt.

Drake only frowned, studying her face with his kind eyes. "I heard about Nathan." He came up to her, wrapping her in his arms. Smelling of a lovely, intoxicating body spray.

She returned the hug, wishing that he wouldn't let go of her.

However, as always, a hug ends and theirs was no different.

"I met up with old friends at the mall, Drake, I completely forgot about getting together. I feel terrible." She hung her head, unsure if she should say anymore. He'd always been there for her, especially during the hard times. How could she be so inconsiderate in forgetting about him?

The only reason he was probably being so nice about it was because she was crying.

"It's fine. Just as long as you're okay." He was about to reach out for her face, but seemed to think better of it, shoving his hand into his pocket instead. With a broken smile he said, "Take care, Cerise." Then walked down the long, crowded hall towards a set of eight doors leading to the outside world.

Cerise went back to the theatre, knowing that she couldn't just abandon Steven like that. However, he was watching her from atop the stairs. "You okay, Cerise?"

"Actually, I think I'm going home."

"Let me walk you there." Steven came down the steps, a weary smile on his lips.

"You don't have to do that."

"I want to. Seen the movie before anyways, it's only ten minutes away, right?" He walked with her to the same doors Drake had gone through. "Besides, Jasper and Leanne are a couple, sometimes I get tired of being the third wheel."

Cerise laughed, "Still, you're going to miss your movie."

"I'm okay with that."

Cerise, her eyes still wet from tears, turned her head away so he couldn't see the smile growing on her face. "Thanks."

Down the lonely, dark street Steven walked. His only companion, glistening thousands of miles away, stared at him with a clear, pale face. With his sweater done up most of the way, the cold air was mostly kept at bay.

He kept up a fair pace as he made his way from Cerise's house to the theatre.

Every once in a while, a car would zoom past Steven, illuminating him with their bright headlamps. The street he was coming up to, where the theatre was located on, was buzzing with late-night traffic. Unlike other areas of the city such as Osborne Village, there were very few pedestrians occupying the sidewalks.

Taking out his phone, he smoothed the screen over with his thumb, wishing that it would vibrate and light up. It had been nearly a week since Julia had texted or called him. After two days of not hearing from her, he knew something was horribly wrong.

Especially after the nightmare he had three nights ago, when he found her lying in the strange, eerie dream.

He didn't have her home phone number and she was one of the few people that didn't own a Facebook account and was under the age of thirty. He'd spent the better part of an afternoon searching the web, desperately trying to figure out why she'd suddenly gone quiet on him.

And why, for the most part, had the dreams stopped.

Steven was jerked out of his thoughts when he saw someone out of the corner of his eyes. Standing on the front lawns of a house to his side, was a man watching him with arms folded over his chest. Even in the dark, Steven could make out his dark eyes tracking his movements.

Hoping to break the uneasy tension mounting, he raised a hand in greeting.

The man started walking towards him at a brisk pace.

He got in behind Steven on the sidewalk, only a few steps away.

Steven quickened his pace.

So did the man.

He was about to start running, when he felt a hand grab his shoulder and whirl him around. Surprised by the sudden move, Steven was helplessly turned around so that he was now facing his assailant.

"Hey!" Steven pulled away, taking his fists out of his pocket. "What do you want?"

"You Steven?" The man seemed to know the answer to that question already.

After a short hesitation, Steven nodded his head. "Do I know you?"

"Unfortunately." He swung at Steven with his right hand, punching him square in the jaw. Before he could defend himself, the assailant took Steven's shoulders, came close and kneed him twice in the gut.

Groaning in pain, doubled over, Steven looked up to see the man standing in front of him, watching him with a grin.

Taking a few steps back, Steven wiped a trickle of blood from a cut on his lip.

Inside, he felt as if a truck had run him down.

"If I ever see you with Cerise again!" The man fearlessly charged Steven, grabbing him by the throat and lifting him up. Although Steven wasn't a lightweight, his assailant was nearly a foot and a half taller, with over a hundred pounds to his advantage.

"Cerise?" Steven immediately knew who was attacking him. "Nathan?"

His hold on Steven's throat tightened and though he struggled fiercely, he couldn't get out of his chocking hold. "Let... go... of... me..." He chocked out, gasping for air.

"I never want to see you with Cerise again—"

Out of nowhere, someone plowed into his assailant, knocking both of them to the ground. Steven stumbled backwards, gulping in air as he put a hand to his throat. Getting to his feet, he saw that the other assailant was either on his side, or planning on finishing him off last.

His assailant had been shoved off the sidewalk and onto the street, where he lay with a frightened, confused expression on his face.

Breathing hard, his fists raised, Steven's 'rescuer' stood waiting for the assailant to come to his feet. Or run away.

"Let me tell you something." His rescuer said, "If I ever see you come near this boy, I'll do much worse than knock you on your ass. Now get up! Run off before I choose to just deal with you now."

His assailant slowly got to his feet, his eyes fiery and fists raised.

Without saying anything, he charged at the rescuer.

Steven watched in awe and fear, as his rescuer held his ground.

His assailant went for the man's waist, but only ended up getting struck on the side of his skull. With one powerful blow, his assailant was sent reeling to the side, screaming profanities. Turning around, his breathing labored and heavy, he made another move for the man.

"I told you to get out of here!" His rescuer sounded angry as he faced the assailant. "But you've always been a fan of learning things the hard way, haven't you Nathan?" He charged forward, extended his hand and caught the assailant by his throat.

Holding him there, he bashed his skull against the assailant's, dropping him on the sidewalk. Crumpling over, the young man collapsed on the cool cement.

Steven simply stared at the cool, brutal way that he'd dealt with his assailant.

"That was Nathan?" Was all he could ask, when his rescuer turned to face him.

"Yes. Cerise's ex-boyfriend. He's been keeping an eye on both you and Drake. I was hoping that he wouldn't be so foolish as to attack you, but as you can see," he gestured at the fallen young man, "he is. Granted, he had no idea I was coming."

"Drake?" Steven asked.

"Cerise's good friend." He answered matter-of-factly. Walking over to Steven, he studied him with dark blue eyes. Long, blonde and grey hair hung neatly past his neck. There was something oddly familiar in his serious, scowling expression.

Steven, holding his stomach in pain, couldn't resist a smile. "And who are you?"

Wiping a strand of hair from his eyes, he shrugged. "Does it matter? Saved your life. All you should be saying is 'thank you'."

A pause, Steven swallowed nervously. "How do I know you're not going to hit me next?"

"That's a stupid thing to say." He wiped away a few dots of blood from his grey, buttoned up jacket. Frowning, he glanced at the fallen young man. "He'll be waking up soon." Cracking his knuckles, he started walking down the sidewalk.

"Um, thanks for helping me out!" Steven called out as the man kept a steady pace in the direction of the theatre.

"Are you coming? If I were you, I'd rather not be here when he wakes up."

He hesitated, still quite unsure what to think of the odd stranger. "I'm not going anywhere until you tell me who you are."

"Fine. Good luck then kid, you're sure as hell going to need it."

Steven sighed, walking after the enigmatic stranger. "Well I'm going this way anyways," he caught up with the stranger, keeping him at an arm's length distance. "At least tell me why you saved me like that."

"Good will."

"Wait!" As they walked under a streetlamp, Steven got a better look of his face. A chill ran down his spine as he recognized the vigilante. "You! You're the one who's been watching me, right?"

"Sure am."

"Why?"

"I think you're cute." He smirked, spat to the side and resumed walking. "You think, if I wanted you to know something, I'd just tell you? Trust me, kid. There's a lot I could tell you, probably enough to answer every one of your questions. But it isn't time yet. The only reason we're talking right now is because you were getting your ass kicked."

"You're not making any sense."

"I don't mean to." A sigh escaped his lips as they walked onto Regent, where the theatre was only a few minutes away. They strolled together on the busy road, Steven trying to get information out of him, and the stranger reprimanding his numerous questions.

Finally, as they got to the theatre, the stranger stopped him.

"You want me to answer some of your questions?" The stranger asked an odd, amused smile on his face. "Well tonight is not the night. However, if you really want to know more, just meet me here at ten o'clock tomorrow night."

"Why not just tell me now?" Steven was growing frustrated with the man's complete obstinacy. Though he did save his life, he still had no idea why, or who the man was.

"It isn't time—I'm not ready yet." His breath hit Steven's face for the first time, smelling strongly of alcohol.

"You're drunk."

"Almost." He smirked, spat on the sidewalk and pointed at the theatre. "You're going to miss your show. Just meet me here tomorrow, when I'm sobered up, and you're not holding your gut in pain."

"At least give me your name."

This gave the man pause. With his eyes raised, and smile growing, he nodded his head. "You can call me, uh, the Keeper of Dreams."

Steven gaped at him, "You know about dreams?"

With a nod of his head, he turned around. "Goodnight, Steven."

Chapter Ten

______________

Another dreamless night.

Steven woke up once again to see that he was still in his bed, his covers and sheets covering him. A pillow under his head, a bed under his body, and a warm, silent house to shield him from the elements.

At the side of his bed, a short table held his alarm clock and cell phone.

One told him that it was 10:15 in the AM, while his cell reminded him that no one was texting him, not even his beautiful, far away girlfriend.

Getting out of bed, his stomach filled with worry and uncertainty, he saw that sunlight was streaming plentifully through his windows. He glanced at his alarm clock, swore, and leapt out of bed. He was supposed to wake up his father at eight and then drive him to church.

"He's going to kill me," Steven muttered, pulling on clothes that were strewn on the floor. Glancing in the mirror, he saw that he wasn't looking as bad as he'd feared. Spraying on deodorant, he marched out of his room, went down the stairs and approached his father's room.

Knocking on the door, he waited a few moments for a response.

"Dad? Hey, are you awake?" He knocked again.

All he could hear was his knocking echoing in the quiet house.

"I'm coming in." Steven turned the doorknob, opened the door and stepped into the room. With wide eyes, he saw that his father's bed was empty, except for strewn sheets and blankets. Frowning, he went to the side of his father's bed, and saw him lying face down on the floor.

"Dad!" He got on his knees, shaking his father. "Dad, come on, get up!"

His father continued to lie on the floor.

"No... no..." Steven put his two fingers against his father's neck, desperate to find a pulse. He gasped for breath, taking away his fingers. A cry of shock and pain erupted from his soul as a pulse, he couldn't find.

Taking his cell out of his pocket, he dialed 911, and prayed for the first time in a long time. He prayed for a miracle.

The man lying in the recovery room, surrounded by beeping monitors and whirring machines, wasn't Steven's father. Not at all. All there was, was a hollow, unconscious body with the same appearance of his father. Only this one had red, swollen bags under his eyes, too many wrinkles, a bald head, raspy breathing, and sickly skin.

It was as if he had really died on his bedroom floor.

The man lying in the hospital bed was only the remains of his father.

Steven sat on an oversized couch in the corner of the room, sitting beside his Uncle Julian. His father's brother, staring morosely at the man lying in the hospital bed, fidgeted in his seat.

"Your grandparents just called," his Aunt Marissa said as she came into the hospital room. "They'll be flying in from British Columbia late tonight, should arrive sometime in the early morning. If you want, you can come with me to pick them up. If not, I'll drop them off at your house, where they'll be staying. Is that okay with you Steven?"

Steven nodded his head.

"Okay," she walked up to her nephew, putting her hand on his shoulder. "Do you want me to get you anything? I'm going out to grab some supper."

"Whatever's fine with me." Steven wasn't terribly hungry, but he wasn't so overcome by sorrow that he couldn't eat. He'd been watching his father die for nearly four years—he'd done enough grieving.

"I'll have whatever he's having." Uncle Julian added. "Just nothing dairy, I'd rather not have to deal with that right now."

Smiling, she nodded her head. "I'll be back in ten. Steven, are you sure I can't get you something more specific."

"Anything fast food." Steven decided he would see just how 'comforting' 'comfort food' really was. "Thanks."

"For sure, dear." Aunt Marissa went out of the room, leaving her husband and nephew to sit in silence.

Steven stared out the window to his side, getting a grand view of Winnipeg's downtown area. As the sun set behind the tall buildings, rays of light streamed around the skyscrapers. Though it was a bustling city, there seemed to be more trees than people or cars, giving the city a look that it was derelict and overrun by nature.

Just had cancer had overrun his father.

It was spreading viciously.

Chemo had only hurt his father, while the cancer remained unresponsive.

Steven couldn't help his eyes from glancing over to his father's gaunt, pale form. A tube protruding from his chest, while other tubes and wire-like things were attached to his father. Earlier, the nurse had said something about fluids building up in his lungs and that he would most likely stay in Health Sciences Centre until the end.

He hadn't really listened to the nurse, he'd heard it all before—the predictions, the treatments, the solutions, the experiments—none of it was new to him, and nothing was stopping his father from dying.

Jasper and Leanne had stopped by earlier in the day, promising they would see him later that night.

However, he knew that he wouldn't be staying here that long.

After his aunt came back with supper, he'd finish it quickly and then be on his way. He'd make up some excuse about being alone, take his father's car, and drive to the theatre on Regent, where he would meet this supposed 'Keeper of Dreams'. Whatever the hell that was.

"Man," his uncle said breaking the deep silence, "it's hard seeing him like this." He didn't say it as much to Steven, as to himself. Resting his head on his arms, he shook his head. "When we were younger, he was always running around—causing mischief. He'd always blame me, but everyone knew he was the one getting us in trouble." He chuckled, "Did he ever tell you the stories about us?"

Steven couldn't remember his father telling him many stories at all. "No."

"Hmm, well maybe that's for the best." Sitting back in his chair, he smiled at his nephew. "But I think you should hear them now. Back when your father was about your age, he was really crazy. Not crazy, just," he shook his head laughing in a knowing way, "he did things that you'd never expect him to do now."

"Like what?"

"Well he was in this band, kind of small, unknown band that played at some of the lounges in Winnipeg. I was their base guitarist, though that wasn't the reason people came to hear us play. No. They came to hear some of the best vocals that had ever graced their ears, I swear, if your father tried, he would've made it big."

Steven cocked his head, intrigued by the side of his father he'd never heard about. "Really? That good, huh?"

"Better. I mean, we weren't the best at guitar and drums, but his voice carried us all along. And the girls, man, was I jealous of him back then. When he was up on the stage, crooning, the girls would all line up at the front, whooping and hollering. That was when we were gaining some minor success."

"Yeah, he told me that much." Steven remembered finding an EP that his father had recorded years ago. When he asked about it, his father simply shrugged and laughed, saying he'd been in a band once. That was all he said on the matter.

"After the shows though, your father... he, um, lived like a 'rock star', I guess you could say. For a few months, we did everything and anything that we wanted. Almost got signed on, if I remember right, to a record label. Almost." His uncle's smile dropped, replaced by a regretful frown. "It just didn't work out though. We all blew it, I went to jail, and your father went to the hospital. Things really fell apart then. It's a long story, maybe I'll tell you sometime, but to sum it up, we all got in huge trouble."

Steven listened raptly, disappointed that his uncle wasn't going into more details. He wanted to know his father's life, the one he never spoke about, and the one he kept hidden. "I guess that's when he 'found Jesus.'"

"Yep." His uncle shook his head, searching for the words to say. "We never agreed on that, even now, sometimes I wish that going religious hadn't been what it took to clean him up. After charges were dropped and the band talked about reuniting, your father wasn't interested in singing anymore. At least, not in our band. Back then, it was tough. None of us understood what had happened to the loud, gregarious, partier."

"Were you mad?"

"Mad? At him? Nah, I was disappointed, but at the same time, happy for him. His life was coming together; he met your mom, got married, had you. Back then, I was too selfish and concerned about my own life to care much about his." Smoothing back his hair, he sighed. "God seemed to do him good though, never could get into it, myself. However, I can't say that it didn't change him for the better. And by looking at you, I'd say it's helped you as well."

Steven smiled, "I'm not a Christian."

"You were raised one though." He was about to say more, but a knock at the door interrupted their conversation.

Standing at the door, a bouquet of flowers in her hand, was Cerise. Her brown eyes, filled with empathy, widened when she saw Steven's father. She looked over at Steven and smiled. "Hey."

"Hey." Steven got up, a smile on his own face. When he was closer to her, he saw her gasp. "It's bad isn't it?"

"What happened?" She stared at his cut lip and bandaged forehead.

"Not really sure. Someone attacked me when I was walking back to the theatre last night. Don't worry though, it's just minor cuts and bruises." Steven wasn't about to tell her, that her psycho ex-boyfriend had mugged him. At least, he wouldn't tell her now.

"Attacked you? Why would someone do that?"

"Wanted my money, I guess a passing car scared them off." Steven shrugged, biting his lower lip. "I'm glad you came, Cerise. Really. It means a lot to me."

"Of course, came as soon as I heard." She walked over to the hospital bed, putting her bouquet with several others. "How is he doing?"

Steven usually hated that question, but coming from her, he didn't care. "Not very well." A pause, "Thanks for the flowers, Cerise." He stared at the bouquet of daffodils, filled with a different, older pain.

"I wasn't sure what to get," she smiled shyly.

"They're perfect."

Cerise stared at him, "What about you, how are you holding up?"

"I'm okay."

Cerise bit her lower lip, glancing to the floor. A few awkward seconds passed before she looked back at Steven, walked up to him, and gave him a tight, warm hug. She didn't say anything more as they held one another, standing in the hospital room.

When she left the embrace, she said, "Take care, Steven." And went to the doorway.

Steven watched her go, wishing that she would stay longer.

However, something changed about her as she passed through the doorway. Her light, auburn hair straightened out and turned a dark brown color. She shortened, but remained skinny like before. She was now wearing a familiar, blue nightgown.

When she turned around once last time, it wasn't Cerise staring at him.

Julia had taken her place, giving him a short wave.

Steven couldn't suppress the broad smile lighting up on his face.

It was her.

His heart hammered away in his chest, while sweat beaded on his brow. It took everything in him not to run up to her and hold her tight. "Julia," he mumbled, feeling light headed and dizzy.

Then Julia was out the door, leaving Steven only an empty doorframe to gawk at.

"Hey, Steven? You alright?" His uncle got out of his chair.

"It was her... my god... it was Julia!"

"You came." Sitting on a worn, wooden bench at the bus stop outside the theatre, the "Keeper of Dreams" smiled up at Steven. "I was hoping for one more night of peace and quiet."

Steven, who'd parked his car in the theatre parking lot, walked up the sidewalk to where the Keeper had told him he'd be. Wearing a warm sweater to keep out the cool air, he wished that it wasn't nighttime, so he could better see the man. He wanted to know who he was dealing with.

"You're the Keeper of Dreams?"

The man's smile grew, "You can call me that, sure." He patted the bench at his side, gesturing that Steven take a seat.

"I'd rather stand."

"And I'd rather you sit. Now sit."

Sighing, Steven felt that he had no choice but to listen to him. Gently, he sat on the bench, staring at the cars driving past them. "So can you tell me what is going on?"

"That's a loaded question. Can you be more specific?'

"Why did you save me?"

"Because I've been watching you for a long time, Steven. Long before you ever noticed that I was there." He started to stand, putting his hands in his pocket. "You got any change on you?"

Steven was still thinking about his other words, not sure whether or not to believe him. "Watching me? What on earth are you talking about?"

"Kid, I asked about change. Do you have any?"

"Change? Yeah sure, I have money." Steven wondered for a brief second if this was all a terribly elaborate scheme to rob him. That this was simply a mugger, going to far lengths to take from him his spare change. "You're not going to buy drugs with this are you?"

"You're funny." The Keeper got to his feet, and started walking down the sidewalk. "Money's not for me, kid. It's for you. I'm freezing my ass off. I've never understood how one day this city is scorching, the next, you're scraping ice off your windshield."

"Where are we going?"

"There's a coffee shop down the road." He led Steven a few minutes down the sidewalk, where there was indeed a café. Dimly lit, mostly empty, Steven could imagine that this character often frequented the place.

Inside, however, the atmosphere was surprisingly cozy and inviting. Although the tables and chairs were scratched up from likely years of use and abuse, the soft lights and warmly painted walls made it feel like a lodge. Or a cabin.

The Keeper paid for the drinks with Steven's three quarters and used the rest of his money to pay the rest. His fingers trembled as the money left his hands, taken by the greedy cash register.

He bought two large coffees, one with milk and sugar, the other a double-double.

Steven took the drink, unsure if he should thank him or not, and took a seat at a booth near the door, facing a window. Setting his drink down, he waited for it to cool off before taking another sip.

The Keeper, he saw now, was not a young man at all. Minor wrinkles covered his face, while his dark blue eyes seemed to carry with them certain heaviness. His blonde and grey hair hung down his face neatly, while grey hair covered his jaw and chin.

In his expression, Steven struggled to comprehend what the man was thinking.

Yet, it was also painfully familiar.

"You're not going to thank me for the coffee?" He asked dryly.

"Not until you answer my questions fully," Steven sat back in his chair, "you scare me, Keeper of Dreams, and I'm not even sure what I'm doing here."

This seemed to take the man aback, though all that changed in his expression was a narrowing of the eyes. "Scare you? That's good. I hope I scare you." He took the lid off his cup of steaming coffee, setting it on the table, he lifted up his cup. Then poured it down his open mouth.

"What are you doing?" Steven's mouth fell open as he gulped down the hot beverage.

When he'd finished the entire cup, he wiped his mouth, smiling bitterly. "I'm used to the pain, Steven. I'm used to a lot of things. What I'm not used to though, is conversation." He glanced out the window, "It's been a long time since I've sat down to talk with someone."

"How did you do that? I can barely sip from mine."

He only smirked, "As I said. You have every right to be afraid of me."

Steven took his beverage, sipping from it, until his mouth felt afire. Wincing, he gulped down the rest of the coffee in his mouth. "You said you were watching me? Why?"

"Because you're important Steven."

"Important?"

"You can dream?"

"Yes."

The Keeper frowned, "Then you are very important. Steven, I'm going to tell you something that very few people know about. As the Keeper of Dreams, it is my job to inform you that you are a part of a group of people. A race I should say, of beings that are different, but similar, to humans. You are a Dreamer."

"Race of beings? What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about something that, I'm afraid, is beyond us both." Sighing, his eyes clouded over. "How this world came to be, Steven. What is true and what is not true, all of it is wrong. Everything you've been taught to believe up to this point has been misinformation." The Keeper seemed to relish the news he was giving out.

Steven only shook his head. "I still have no idea what you are talking about." He thought back to his father, a stab of pain hitting his heart. The man had taught him to believe that God had created everyone and everything. Was this what the Keeper was saying was a lie? "Do you mean religion?"

"It's much more than that. You see, Steven—you aren't human at all. Neither am I. Religion, all of that is inconsequential. I wish I could explain everything to you, but there are some things better seen than told."

Steven thought back to Julia, when she'd first told him about her dreams.

The Keeper was wrong.

"I'm not a Dreamer. I wasn't born with the ability to dream."

A fire was lit in the Keeper's eyes, the man, for a second, seemed downright furious. "What? You weren't born with the ability to dream?"

"No."

"Then—" his eyes began to widen, his mouth gaping. "What's her name?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"The girl! Who gave you the ability to dream? If you weren't born with it that means that someone gave it to you. Tell me who it is!" The Keeper, whose voice was rising, got to his feet. "Never mind. If what you say is true," he slammed his fist on the table, causing both Steven to jump in his seat. "Then we're both in a lot of trouble."

The server, who was making another pot of coffee, glared at them.

"I don't understand."

"No, of course you don't." The Keeper, fists shaking, stared intensely at Steven. "When was this? When did the dreams start?"

"This week." Steven stammered, getting slowly to his feet. "Can you just tell me what is going on?"

"Good. There is still time." The Keeper brushed past Steven, heading towards the doors of the café. Steven followed him, but when he'd gone outside, he couldn't see the Keeper anywhere. He was simply gone.

And Steven was left feeling more confused than ever.

Chapter Eleven

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"I used to believe that there was a reason for this place. This place, hmm... what a strange word to use for something, I'm sure, doesn't even exist. I used to believe in a lot of things I suppose. My mind was always one looking for something above myself that I could hold onto." A dull, weary voice played listlessly from a stereo.

The stereo, marked up and chipped of its black exterior, was half-buried in a mound of snow. Out of its speakers came the voice of someone, Steven didn't recognize. There was something that drew him to the voice, perhaps it was the hopelessness or the deep pain that resonated behind each syllable spoken.

"I suppose we had convinced ourselves that we were special. Different. Better. It was our defining characteristic that separated us from all the rest—it also divided ourselves. There were those who would say that what we had, our ability was a gift. Others were convinced it was a vice. A curse. Which side do I fall upon? I guess that would depend on what this 'place' really is.

After years of research and study, I am neither convinced that we are angels nor demons. I am convinced, however, that there is much more at work here, much beyond our control. I am convinced—that we are all threads, woven into the same tapestry. But that would lead to the question: who is weaving this tapestry?

And how, in the hell, are we going to stop them?"

There was a small click, and then the stereo began humming loudly, before replaying the recording. "I used to believe—" Steven turned away his attention, listening instead to the howling wind as it rushed down the mountain slope.

He'd woken up nearly twenty minutes ago, lying face down on the mountainside. Though he was covered from head-to-toe in snow, he didn't feel the elements freezing his skin. He was vaguely aware that he was cold.

He was dreaming again.

Steven had then, after gaining his bearings, walked down the mountain slope. Using rocks and tree branches that jutted out of the snow, he made his way carefully down the precarious slope. On his hands and knees, he followed a path curving down the mountain, made by another, who'd been making their way to the bottom.

Snow fell heavily from dark, grey clouds, so his visibility was reduced to a few centimeters from his face. If he'd been afraid of falling, he would've been careful traversing the mountainous terrain, but then this was a dream. If he were to fall, he would either wake up, or land without any pain or injury.

"Julia!" He called out upon seeing a torn piece of blue clothing on a tree branch. It was blue, silky, just like the nightgown she'd worn during their first dream together. "Julia! For God's sake, where are you!?" He hollered as loud as he could, desperate to hear her voice or even see her silhouette going down the mountain.

Anything but the howling wind.

He snatched the blue fabric from the branch, squeezing it in his grip. "Where are you?"

Hoping against reason that she would be okay, he continued to go down the mountain, following her trail, hoping that it was hers. It had to be, something inside of him told him that if he persisted, he would find her. This was the first time he'd dreamed in nearly a week, was he crazy to think that he would find her here?

"Come on Julia, you have to be here."

The only time he stopped in his journey down the mountain, was when he stumbled upon the stereo. Taking a seat on the snow, he listened to the stereo as it played the man's low, exhausted voice. Though it was vague, one line had sent a chill down his spine.

And how, in the hell, are we going to stop them?

Getting back to his feet, clad in jeans and a sweater—which he'd been wearing in the hospital room before drifting off to sleep—he noticed that the snow wasn't falling as heavily. Behind him, the roaring wind began to die down. Ahead of him, he could see a tinge of light, and the beginnings of a green, alive landscape.

Where there had been a trail, all he could see were patches of snow and ice, amidst dry, dead grass. Smooth rocks emerged from the ground, replacing the jagged rocks of the mountain. Fully clothed, striving trees stood proudly out of the earth. The ground under his feet wasn't at such an angle, as it began to level out.

Picking up the pace, running on his feet, he weaved in and out of the trees with precision. Leaping over boulders as if they were mere pebbles, Steven was surprised at how quickly and nimbly he could move.

Just like Clark Kent discovering for the first time how far he could jump, Steven was learning that physics didn't fully apply in the dreams. He kicked off the ground, flying far into the air, barely missing the prickly branches of everglades. The air rushed past him as he came to the ground, hit, and kept on running.

Despite the pain in his heart, a smile grew on his face.

Kicking off with more strength, he was catapulted into the air, soaring mightily above the tops of the trees. He stretched out his hands, keeping himself upright, instead of going into a roll as he ascended higher into the air.

From his vantage point, he could see that the forest covered a bowl-shaped valley surrounding a massive geyser. The geyser gushed past the clouds and covered the depression with sizeable drops of water. Emitting from the geyser—along with the spouting water—was a roaring, deafening noise.

Steven blinked, his mouth hanging slack-jawed.

As he hung in the air, he saw that there were numerous trains running from the ground, to the clouds. One train, rushing vertically on nothing but thin air, came down like a nail into a plank of wood. From the cloud-dotted sky, the train pummeled into the earth, burrowing deep into the ground and out of sight.

Glancing at the geyser, he couldn't fathom how enormous it was.

None of it felt real. Instead, it was like he was in the canvas of an imaginative, fantastical painting, done by a masterful artist. Behind it all, five suns were all setting simultaneously behind the mountain range that Steven had just climbed down.

However, Steven began to come back down to the forest. In seconds he was sailing past the trees, moving harmlessly past tree branches. He hit the earth with a cacophonous thud. Getting to his feet, he was now quite close to the geyser. Drops of rain splashed on his face as he stared up at the tower of water.

All around him, trains were either rushing out of the ground, heading towards the sky, or coming down from the sky, and pummeling into the earth.

Amidst the noise, however, he could still hear her sweet, cherished voice. "Hey you." Carried by the light breeze her voice met his ears, tickling them as they swarmed inside, towards his heart, pumping it with energy. "You're here."

Turning around, Steven was overcome by the emotions that tried to squeeze his eyes as one squeezes a wet towel. He took a few steps forward, afraid that she would disappear again. "Julia?"

She emerged from behind the rough bark of an oak tree. Stepping carefully towards him, her eyes met his. "Steven. I'm so sorry—" It was all she had time to say before he ran over to her, enveloping her in his arms. Holding her tight, unaware that he might be hurting her, he blinked away the tears.

She embraced him back, also beginning to tear up as she melted into his arms.

Her delicate body, trembling ever-so-slightly, felt amazing in his arms. Her brown hair was soft and smelled of flowers as she buried her face in his chest. Though she was delicate, she wasn't wispy or thin like Cerise; instead, she hugged him back with as much strength as she could muster.

Afraid that the dream would end soon, he let her go. He needed to know a lot before he was taken out of the dream again. "What happened to you? You've ignored all my texts since Tuesday." Folding his arms over his chest, he prayed for a suitable, satisfactory answer. "You did get them, right?"

He saw her shoulders slump, which were completely bare. All that she wore was a blue, elegant dress. Shaking her head softly, she folded her arms over her chest. "I haven't received any texts Steven. I... I haven't woken up since Tuesday."

"Woken up? You mean you've been here?" He made an all encompassing gesture with his hands.

"The dreams change frequently, but yes, I've been here. In these dreams, endlessly asleep." She bit her lower lip, staring at him with her bright, turquoise eyes.

"You're not..." He reached out to her again, gently feeling her bare shoulders. "De—"

"No." Her eyes widened as they met his. "On Tuesday night," she gulped, her eyes brimming with tears, "a truck drove through an intersection when my friend and I were driving. We didn't see each other, and we collided. I was in and out of consciousness for awhile, but from what I heard, I'm in the hospital now."

She paused for a while, staring at the ground. "I'm in a coma. And I can't wake up, no matter how hard I try—I'm trapped. Steven, you have to go and find me."

"A coma?" A ball was stuck in his throat, while more tears threatened to come. He'd already lost his mother, was losing his father, how could he lose the girl he loved as well? Staring up at the dark sky, he imagined God laughing at him, a sneering, mocking look on his face. The cosmic punisher was pouring out his judgment on Steven's life.

"I'm scared, Steven. I didn't know this would happen."

"It'll be okay," he frowned, unsure of what to do with the news she'd given him. "But I will find you, Julia. I promise to. No matter what, I'll find you and wake you up."

"Steven..."

"No," he took a step closer to her, his lips set in a determined half-smile. Only the tears and trembling of his hand betrayed his true fear. "I will, Julia. I will."

She only smiled back at him, "And when you don't?"

"I don't break my promises, Julia—I said I would love you forever, and I've kept it so far. I'm not going to break this one either. I don't know if I believe in God or Fate, but I do know that we're meant to be. None of this happened by accident."

"Okay." Was all she said before kissing him. Passionately, as if it was their last kiss, she molded her lips into his. For a while, they stood in each other's arms, kissing one another until Steven took her hands in his.

Slowly, they began to rise up into the air.

Gasping, she left the kiss and smiled. "Warn me next time."

His eyes sad and round, Steven kissed her again and whispered. "Life is too short to waste on warning. Sometimes, we just have to face the consequences or rewards." Massaging her soft hands, he began to rise higher and higher into the air.

Beside them, moving in swift silence, a passenger train shot up into the air, disappearing moments later in the clouds.

"You know, if I could dream forever, I don't think that I would want to wake up." He commented, drying her cheek with his thumb. If we could dream together, I think that would be the best. Imagine, everyday dreaming endlessly with you." She let go of his hand, floating away from him.

The two of them levitated above the hills below, surrounded by trains going up and down.

Her eyes lowered, and the smile she gave was forced. "I would prefer to be awake with you."

"Why?"

"Because," she looked back up at him again, her turquoise eyes a tinge darker than usual. "This isn't real, none of it is. Where we are now, is really back in reality, you asleep, and me in a coma."

"It feels real, tastes real," he moved close again, kissing her on the lips.

"But it isn't. Trust me, Steven. When you've been here long enough, you don't always want to dream again."

"Well I—" Was all he was able to say before he was met by the front of a speeding train.

Leaping out of the chair in the hospital room, Steven put his hand to his heart, feeling it pump madly. Drenched in sweat, he quickly remembered where he was and came over to his father's bedside.

Still asleep.

Steven exhaled noisily, still feeling the adrenaline coursing through his veins after being hit by the train.

Staring at his father's dying, cancer-ravaged body, he really did have to disagree with Julia.

Who would want to live in such a devastating, horrific reality?

Better, to dream, than face a life of misery.

For when he dreamt, there was no pain.

Only him and Julia.

With a soft smile, he went back to his chair, closed his eyes and let sleep take him back into its loving, deep embrace.

Chapter Twelve

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Her fingers wrapped around the cool base of her glass cup, lifting it up and tipping the frigid iced tea into her open mouth. Wishing it was wine or something stronger; Cerise placed the glass back on the red table cloth. She dabbed her lips with a napkin, glancing around the crowded restaurant for one person.

Lifting her purse on her lap, she opened it, retrieving a small mirror to once again make sure she looked alright. As usual, she found a curl amiss in her hair, sighing as she tried to put it back in its place.

At least her skin was tanned, free from a spot of acne that had terrorized her face two days earlier.

Glancing at the empty chair in front of her, she wished that Steven would come over and fill it. It had already been ten minutes after the time that the two of them had agreed to meet at Corrientes Argentine Pizzeria for dinner.

Steven had called it a spontaneous celebration of their last time, ever, going to school on September the 21st.

Cerise had another name for it, which brought her smile to life.

Ever since that night when the two of them had coffee, Cerise couldn't help but smile when she thought of her cute, blue-eyed neighbor. Old feelings, she had no intention of stopping, but had surprised her nonetheless, had arisen in her heart.

One afternoon, she'd asked him to go with her for smoothies. He obliged her request, showing up at the mall where Drake normally sat in the food court. Together, they talked for hours about multiple things, drinking their smoothies.

Steven had then shared about his father being admitted to the hospital.

At the time, it had only been a friendly gesture, but Cerise had reached over the table, taking his hand in hers.

When she'd grabbed his hand, meshing her fingers into his, she felt the electricity shoot up her arm. There was delightful warmth in the way their fingers intertwined. It was hard to explain, but it was like their hands were sized perfectly for one another.

She wished that he wouldn't have let her go.

But he did anyways.

Tonight, if she was fortunate enough to get the chance, she would make sure that he never let her go. There was something so perfect about Steven, his only mark-up being when he'd broken her heart five years ago. She still remembered the pain that had ripped through her when he walked out of her life.

Nathan had pretty well destroyed everything else.

It was funny how much two weeks time had changed inside of her. Whenever she thought of her old boyfriend, there was still an ache in her heart, but it was only an ache. She didn't feel that regretful, awful and heart-wrenching pain that had come over her when she'd broken up with her past boyfriends.

No, there was only an ache.

Now that she thought of it, the day that Nathan had cheated on, Cerise realized that most of her feelings for him had died. She was just too scared and unsure about a future without him. Nathan had completely enveloped her life, causing her to lose nearly all her friends.

Drake was the only friend left that she felt she could tell anything to.

She'd promptly called him the day after forgetting about hanging out at the mall. "Drake, I feel like such an idiot. I'm sorry I was being so selfish and rude. Hopefully I can make it up to you."

He had accepted her apology, assuring her that it was alright.

At work neither of them said a word about what happened, using their words to only communicate in light, meaningless banter.

Cerise's eyes broadened, her smile coming to life when she saw Steven walk into the restaurant. Donning dark blue jeans, a tight, brown shirt and matching blazer she felt her heart stop a beat. His usually short, unkempt dark hair was styled to the side, making his cute face broader and handsomer.

Feeling like a silly middle-schooler, she dropped her gaze. "Hey Steven."

"Hey Cerise," he stared at her, his eyes deliciously blue. Taking a seat, he complimented what she wore, adorning her with encouraging, complimentary words. Fixing his collar, he picked up the menu and asked her what she was having.

"I was thinking of starting off with a plate of bruschettas, they're amazing. Then we could get a traditional, thick crust Porteno pizza?" She showed him where they were on the menu; he agreed it was an excellent choice.

When the waitress came back, she took their orders and their menus.

Ten minutes later, after a light, laughter filled conversation, Cerise proved to be correct. The bruschettas were amazing, surprisingly different and almost enough to satisfy them both, though it was just the appetizer.

A slice of tomato fell from his mouth, bouncing off his knee and landing on the carpeted floor. Picking it up, he stared at the delicious piece of fruit, blew any dirt off it and plopped it into his mouth.

Most girls, at seeing this, would've been horrified or disgusted—who eats off the floor? However, Cerise giggled. She pointed at another crumb on the floor and asked if he wanted to eat that one as well.

Steven's face went bright red before they both broke out into laughter.

"I can't believe I just did that, sometimes I don't think."

"It was cute—a little gross, but more cute."

"I'll try not to do that again." He picked up another slice of tomato, this time it came from his plate. "So do you mind if I ask about Nathan?"

Cerise raised a surprised eyebrow. "Not at all."

He took a bite of his bruschetta staring at her thoughtfully. "Do you two still talk?"

"We share the same friends; he was at the party I was at last Friday night." She couldn't really recall the alcohol, friends, dancing and music; as much as she remembered the intense way that Nathan had stared at her. Although he never came up to her, he always stuck close by, talking and laughing with his friends, his eyes constantly on her.

"Awkward?"

"Meh, not really." Cerise took a sip from her iced tea, really wishing that it was some good champagne. "Though his other girlfriend did break up with him and rumor has it—"

Steven broke out into song, singing the chorus line of Adele's 'Rumor has it' grinning at Cerise playfully. In his tone-deaf, teasing voice, he finished the short rendition, both their faces bright red.

"I'm sorry; there must be something in this bruchetta." He chuckled, feeling her shoe-clad feet lightly kicking his shins.

"It's bruschetta, actually."

"Sorry, haven't had much time to brush up on my Spanish."

"It's Italian." Cerise grinned at him, finishing off the rest of her food.

Rolling his eyes, an impish grin on his face, he also finished off his food and asked her to continue what she was saying. She at first refused him, saying he didn't deserve to know after so rudely cutting her off. He pleaded with her to, and it didn't take long for her to comply.

"Fine," taking a sip of iced tea to wash down the food, she finished her sentence. "Rumor has it that he still likes me," rolling her eyes, she hoped that her countenance came off as casual as possible. "I don't care though; he cheated on me twice, and then we broke up." As she went on, she took her napkin crumpling it into a ball. Dropping it on her plate, she smiled bitterly. "Screw him, like Taylor Swift said, we are never ever getting back together."

"Deep." Steven took a sip from his water, swishing it around in his mouth before swallowing. "But that's really good, Cerise, he was a jerk and didn't deserve you. And I mean that as a friend, please never take him back."

Cerise shook her head. "I won't."

Steven moved his feet back from under the table, so Cerise wouldn't be able to touch them again. His eyes drifting to the side, he was beginning to realize that taking Cerise out like this had been a bad idea.

He just wanted a break from the misery that was taking over his life.

Going out with his old friend had seemed to be the perfect idea.

Leaning back in his chair, chewing thoughtfully on his bruschetta, he thought back on the fourteen days that had elapsed since his father had been admitted to Health Sciences Center. Four days after he'd found him lying beside his bed on the carpeted floor, his father had woken up in his hospital bed. Instead of seeing just his son and nurse, his parents had also flown in from British Columbia to see him. Grandma and Grandpa Walker, along with Grandma Marie, and his father's younger brother Julian and his wife Marissa, had all been there with Steven when his father awoke.

It would be another day and a half before he had the energy to assure them that he was alright, still alive and feeling much better. Grandma Marie, who was usually full of advice, had remained silent, watching her step-son with loving eyes. Stroking his cheek, she told him that he would soon be with his wife and her only daughter—she made him promise to let her know Grandma was thinking of her.

Steven had been quick to quip that he was still alive.

The rest of the room greeted this with unsure silence.

Since they had flown in from British Columbia, Steven's grandparents decided that they would stay with Steven until one of two things happened: His father died, or he got better—they only mentioned the latter option.

Steven only thought of the former one.

Not that he would believe it possible; there was simply no way he could become an orphan. He needed one parent to see him become the man that he would become, to cheer him on at graduation, wish him luck before university, bless his marriage, spoil his children... no, he could not die, not yet.

Parents weren't meant to die in their middle age; he could be content with his death only when he was in his eighties or nineties. Although he'd be sad to see him go, it would be in a happier, more satisfied way, then in a tragic, mournful way. He would pass away slowly in his sleep, not in pain, surrounded by those who loved him.

Steven had sat by his father's bedside, realizing that this could be the last time he'd see his father. For a while, he sat, while his father lay in his bed, both of them in pain, neither of them letting on about it—though it was obviously there.

There were not trite, empty phrases spoken about how he would be going to a better place, or that he would be alright, or that he would always be watching over him.

Though his father believed in heaven, he made no mention of it to his son.

When his Uncle Julian arrived with a box of pizza, the mood in the dreary hospital room lightened. Old times were remembered and funny stories shared. Sitting together, in that lonely hospital room, those three souls found it in themselves to laugh.

That, Steven thought, was a bigger miracle than any healing.

Joy in the midst of hell.

A light on a dark, stormy sea.

Cerise spoke up, after an extended moment of silence, taking Steven out of his reminiscing. "You okay?"

When Steven looked up at his old friend, it wasn't her that he saw.

She'd been replaced by Julia.

Steven held his breath, dropping his hands to his lap, sweat building on his skin.

She was actually there, sitting across the table, her eyes turquoise, and face radiant. Gorgeous. Perfect. His heart beat wildly in his chest, and it took everything in him not to reach over and kiss her flawless face.

This had happened before.

A few days ago, they'd gone out for smoothies after school. She'd been wearing tight jean shorts and a low cut blouse—that had been the final act of erasing what he remembered her looking like as a kid. Not that he would complain, she was beautiful, but it was strange to see Cerise like that. They'd known each other as children; it was a shock to see what time had done to her.

It wasn't just her appearance that had changed either.

When they were drinking smoothies, talking about their lives at school, Cerise began to look into his eyes. Her stare became less and less friendly as their conversation continued, while her smile held in it desire.

Or so he thought.

When her flip-flop adorned feet began stretching out and bumping into his, she went red with embarrassment and apologized with a laugh. He smiled as well when he realized that neither of them had moved their feet.

Her toes ran along the top of his foot, while she took a sip from her smoothie.

Again, she smiled in that certain way.

But it wasn't Cerise doing this, no, all he could see was Julia.

His head began to spin.

Her hands, which were dangling at her side, came up on the table, gently reaching for his.

To him they were Julia's.

When her fingers intertwined with his, he allowed them to stay that way for only a heartbeat.

Then it was Cerise staring back at him, and he quickly let go. Chuckling nervously, he stared quizzically at his friend on the other end of the table. Neither of them spoke about it, though he was sure they both had questions. Steven, for one, wondered how she had moved on from Nathan so easily.

It had only been the previous weekend, when they'd bumped into one another at the theatre that she'd broken down. He'd run after her, only to be reminded of his own failings with her when they used to be together. How he'd coldly broken her heart.

Now she was texting him frequently, staying up late with him as they sent each other messages. Sneaking into his balcony, he was surprised to see that Cerise was also on her roof, phone in hand. For hours on end they texted back and forth, both of them staring at one another, but too far away to hear one another without shouting.

Leanne had approached Steven the last time he'd gone to school, her hands on her hips. With a scolding smile, she asked about Cerise. "I don't get you Steven, she's obviously falling for you—why don't you just ask her out?"

"I can't—won't." Shaking his head, he let out a sigh and wished he could just tell Leanne the truth. "It just won't work out between us, I like being her friend, and she feels the same way."

"Sometimes, you have to take risks. Fear will just hold you back."

But it was not fear that was holding Steven back, at least, not fear in the way Leanne had meant it. No, it was the beautiful, amazing girl that he was already in love with.

Julia.

He'd dreamt with her over half a dozen times in the past two weeks.

Every second or third night, he would wake up in a place he'd never seen or imagined before. She'd be nearby, shouting his name in delight before smothering him with kisses. Her thin, frail body would wrap around his.

Some nights she wept, saying that loneliness was all she felt now. Every time he woke up from the dreams, she'd be left utterly alone, kept continuously dreaming. Her dreams sometimes grew frightening, as if she was no longer welcome in them. People she'd once known would enter her dreams, unable to see or talk to her. They'd stumble around, muttering meaningless words before disappearing.

"I don't think I can keep doing this, Steven." She'd said once, her head lying on his chest. "I'm so tired, but I can't sleep. Sometimes, it feels like I'm not even here anymore. Even when I see you, I just can't find it in myself to be with you. Like I'm fading."

She put her head to his ear, whispering, "You have to find me, Steven. Find a way to wake me up. Let my family know that I still love and am thinking about them."

"I'm not your Prince Charming, Julia." He'd whispered back mournfully. "My kiss won't bring you back, there's nothing I can do."

"You're wrong, Steven."

Then he'd disappeared abruptly from the dream, left to ponder Julia's mysterious words. Could he truly wake her up? And if he could, would he really go all the way out to Alberta?

She said she'd been in a car crash, what if she wasn't... whole anymore? If it had been bad enough of a car crash to put her into a coma, what else could it have done to her?

Those questions kept Steven up some nights.

"Hey," this time, Cerise spoke quite loudly. "Is everything alright?"

Steven snapped out of his remembering for good this time, staring not at Julia, but Cerise. She nibbled on her food, smiling nervously at him.

"Everything's fine." Grimacing, he felt a pang of guilt in his heart. Here he was, enjoying the company of Cerise, having a delicious supper, while the girl he loved was in a coma. Not to mention this was a single girl, who'd once been in love with him.

Sighing, he told himself that she only thought of him as a friend. Surely Cerise had much better prospects where she went to school. He was nothing special.

"Okay," she glanced behind her to see the waitress walking towards them with a warm, sizzling pizza. Setting it on the table, they thanked her, and slowly ate their meal, talking in-between bites of the scrumptious supper.

Later, when all that was left were crumbs and they were both full from delectable, incredible pizza, she suggested that they go back to her place. There was a twinkle in her eye, a knowing, yearning-filled way in which she asked him to accompany her home. "I was thinking we could watch a movie."

Steven shrugged, his eyes clouding over. "I don't think I can tonight, sorry."

"Why not?" Cerise looked at him with her eyebrows raised. There was a surprised, hurt look written on her face as she frowned.

"I've got a lot of homework," he said without missing a beat. "I'm sorry; we'll have to do that another time." Although he seriously doubted that he would, buttoning up his blazer he waited for the waitress to come to their table with the bill.

Cerise only shook her head, "Please, Steven. The night's still young."

"I can't." This time his smile faltered, he caught himself staring intensely into her now turquoise eyes. Julia's eyes. For a second, he almost reconsidered. Swallowing nervously, he looked away. "Sorry, we'll have to do it another time."

"Promise?"

The waitress came up to their table, giving them the bill and accepting Steven's payment for the entire meal. When she was gone, Steven stood up, pushing in his chair. "Okay, Cerise." He waited for her to stand up as well, walking with her out of the restaurant.

Once they were outside in the warm, dark night, she put a hand on his shoulder and stopped him. "Goodnight, Steven." She went on her tip-toes, giving him a brief kiss on the cheek.

Watching her stride away from him, Steven let his arms and jaw hang loosely. "Oh Cerise... why?" He stared up at the sky, imagining that Julia was watching him.

He thought of the Keeper's mysterious words, before vanishing from his life completely.

Perhaps, he was wrong for wanting to dream again.

It wouldn't be the last time he'd think that.

Chapter Thirteen

____________________

"—the escalator wasn't even working! Can you believe that?" A teenager with long, dark hair sat on the beach, retelling a story to his girlfriend Quendra. His fingers dug into the dry, soft sand only a few centimeters away from where Steven lay.

Neither camper took notice of Steven as he began to wake up.

Steven exclaimed, "Julia!" Sitting up quickly, he started to rub his eyes but stopped when he felt sand all over them. Wiping his hands on his shorts, he brushed off the sand from his eyes with his forearms.

Glancing to his side, he let out a scream and bumped against another person behind him. Only a hands width from his face, Quendra continued talking to her boyfriend, her tanned legs curled up to her body.

"Quendra?" Steven got to his feet, staring at his old friends from camp. "Keith?" He took a step back, his feet sinking into the white, hot sand. Neither of his friends took notice of him, instead they continued to talk away.

He was dreaming again.

Earlier that night he'd gone home, still perplexed over why Cerise had kissed him. At first, he shrugged it off as just friendly, if not a little overtly so. Then she started texting him again, her words beginning to push away the idea that she just wanted to be friends.

Since he knew how bad he was at saying 'no', he told her goodnight and let his phone charge. How could this be happening, right now? He already had enough on his mind with Julia; he wasn't feeling ready to handle Cerise's advances as well.

Most likely, he was just a rebound to her.

After watching How I Met Your Mother, he had tea with his grandparents who had just come home from visiting his father in the hospital. Again, they had no news, his father's situation had neither grown worse nor better—all that they knew was that this was likely to be his last week.

Steven wished them goodnight, went into his room and lay on his bed for a good hour before sleep finally overtook him. Except, as was becoming more frequent, he wasn't given any rest when he slipped into unconsciousness.

"Look at those two out there," Quendra said to Keith, a sly smile on her face. She pointed out onto the lake behind Steven, where several canoes were being paddled away from the beach. Moderate waves crested and crashed on the shore where one canoe drifted onto the sand. The two teens onboard hopped off, dragging the canoe across the beach.

Laughing, Keith nodded his head. "I wonder what they were doing."

"Canoeing?" She rolled her eyes.

"Not what I was implying."

Steven studied his two friends, pretty sure that they couldn't possibly see him. To make sure, he spoke out loud. "You do know I'm right here, right Keith?" He stooped down to the ground, eyeing his old friend.

Keith only turned to Quendra and they continued talking.

"Hey!" He shouted this time, getting to his feet. "Are you deaf?" He smiled, strangely amused and distressed by not being seen. Kicking sand at them, he was sure he would get their attention.

The sand flew into the air, sprinkling them with sandy grains that neither of them took notice of. However, the sand quickly dribbled off them, rejoining the millions of others that covered the expansive beach.

He bent down again, wrapping his fingers around Quendra's leg. When he pressed his fingers against her smooth skin, he was horrified to feel them sink into them. As if she was made of jelly, his fingers went through them like mush.

Hastily withdrawing his hand, he stood back up.

Grimacing, he shivered in disgust, walking away from the two love birds. Down the beach he strolled, taking in all he saw with an awed expression. Nostalgia sent shivers down his spine as he walked past specific places.

He saw the tree he'd sat against on the first day, staring up at the beautiful girl that had walked up to him. With a sad smile, he recalled how Julia had first come up to him. All she had said was, "Hey you," before taking a seat beside him.

Hands in his pocket, he approached the tree. "Hey you," he said to no one in particular, a sorrowful smile on his face. Placing his hand on the tree, he felt the rough texture, his fingers tracing the deep lines running up and down it.

A leaf fell from above, green and filled with life—now on its way to die.

The dirt road running beside the tree was occupied by several other campers, all of whom were talking and laughing with one another. Derek was at the front of the group beside his girlfriend Haylee; the two of them kissed briefly, while he held her hand lightly.

Steven took his hand off the tree, going down the dirt road towards the boys cabins. Soaking in the memories that filled every nook and cranny of the camp, he passed the cabins and continued his way up a hill.

Beneath him, the road petered out to a grass-covered trail, which led up to Overlook Hill. On either side, the wide path gave way to ravines, which were filled with the foliage of oak and evergreen trees.

One of the branches hung a little over the path, where a bird landed on it, singing its song.

He remembered vividly how he'd strolled up this path for the first time with Julia. He'd been telling her a lame joke, which she laughed heartily at. She responded with a better joke, which he wished he could fully remember, but couldn't.

What he did remember was her hand reaching for his, holding it gently.

He'd tilted his head to the side, their eyes meeting. A smile grew on his face, spreading to hers as they held on tightly to one another. They didn't say anything about holding hands or what it meant—they didn't need to. In that first contact, Steven just knew this was the girl he was going to fall in love with.

He'd held hands before, but not like this.

It was hard to explain, but it felt like their hands were sized perfectly for one another. When their fingers curled around each other's, it was a wonderful fit.

That night, they had sat around the fire and sung camp songs, their hands still together. She'd leaned her head against his chest, while her hair brushed up against his face. Breathing in, he caught her floral, sweet scent.

"Oh what I wouldn't give to go back there." He said longingly when he reached the top of the hill. Overlook Hill stood atop a high, rocky cliff, which overlooked Shakesfire Lake. At the top of the hill, there was a fire pit in the centre, surrounded by several wooden bleachers where the campers gathered each night to sing camp songs.

On one of those bleachers, Julia sat with her head hung low. Her dark, brown hair covered her face. After he'd cleared his throat, he saw her swish her hair to the side, letting out a startled cry. "Steven!" She stood up and came to him.

"Hey, Julia." He wrapped her in his arms, holding her close. When his hands pressed against her back, he was relieved that they didn't sink into her skin. He could feel her cool skin, which was left bare thanks to her backless dress she'd been wearing since she entered the coma.

"I've missed you so much... especially since I've been here all day." Even though he'd let her go, she still clung to him securely. "At first I followed... well, the memory of us around the camp... but then I couldn't do it. The way we laughed, the way we talked... it was just too much to listen to, knowing that we can never do that again."

"We're doing it right now." He frowned, "It's no different than being awake, really." He ran his hand down her hair and back, resisting the urge to kiss her. Right now, he was reminded of a question he needed to ask her.

"Okay." She took a step back, grabbing his hand and leading him over to the edge of the hill, where there was a sharp drop off guarded by a fence. Leaning against the railing, she stared out over the lake, pointing at those in the canoe. "We're in the one closest to the island, see it?"

Steven squinted, staring out at the canoes until he saw the one she was pointing at. "Yeah, I see it." With a frown, he turned to Julia. "Hey, I think something weird is happening to me. I was looking at someone, and all of a sudden I saw... you," he paused, laughing sardonically. "I mean I see you everywhere, but this time, you were actually there."

"Wait." She let go of his hand, her face frozen in a perplexed look. "Like a hallucination?"

"Except it was real. Like, well, as real as anything." He thought about telling her who had become her, but thought better of it. "Why did that happen?"

"Are you sure it did? Maybe..." She tapered off, staring back out at the lake. Silently, she shook her head, unable to meet his persistent stare. "Maybe you just miss me so much."

"I miss you like crazy. It wasn't that though, it had to be connected to our dreaming."

"No, Steven. That isn't possible. It has nothing to do with our dreaming." Turning away from him, she sighed miserably. "It's just the stress of all this, I don't know. Why does it even matter?"

Now it was Steven's turn to give her a perplexed look. Carefully he put a hand on her shoulder. "Julia..." He chuckled nervously, worried about her strange reaction. "What's going on?" He spun her slowly around, getting a better look at her pale, drawn face.

"Nothing. I'm just... it's nothing." Again she tried to turn away, but he kept his gentle hold on her.

"Julia."

She shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, biting her lower lip. "Sometimes dreaming a lot can take a toll on you, alright? I just didn't want to worry you about it."

"Oh." He nodded his head, digesting what she said before forcing a smile upon his face. "I guess that makes sense, will it happen a lot?"

"Maybe, I mean I used to have times like that when I would hallucinate often. Just a side effect, perhaps with the added stress it's making the hallucinations worse." Julia looked like she wanted to say more, but kept her lips sealed shut.

"Are you sure?"

She nodded her head, inching backwards as she took his hand in hers. "Before you wake up, I want to go on a canoe with you."

"Like old times." He chuckled, feeling more than a little concerned over the shadow that had been cast over her face. Her eyes, usually wide, had narrowed just a tad.

Following her back down the path, he was reminded of the last time he'd done this with her.

Their final night together.

Steven had been lying on his bed in one of the cabins, every once in a while glancing at his cell phone. Though they weren't permitted for campers, Steven wasn't a camper, nor was he in a cabin with a bunch of other kids, at least for that night. His father had taken his medicine to help him sleep, so he was not awoken when Steven snuck out of his cabin at 1:50 AM.

Barefoot, he slinked down the steps of the old, log cabin, jogging silently down the dirt road. Passing by the tree where he first met the beautiful, turquoise-eyed girl, he put his hand on it, feeling the rough, cold texture.

Smiling, he resumed his jog across the soccer field, past the trampoline and onwards to the beach. When his bare-feet hit the cool, soft sand, he started running. With a long line of trees separating him from the rest of the camp, he was in no danger of being detected.

Earlier that day, he'd borrowed his father's keys and unlocked the canoe shed. When he'd found one, he'd dragged it out on the sand, then towards the trees where it was basically out of sight.

Instead of finding just a canoe, he found Julia sitting on the sand beside it. Donning a long shirt, which looked like all she was wearing, she stood up. Coming towards him, she gave him a quick peck on the cheek. "Took you long enough."

"How did you get out of your cabin?" He wondered if he should just kiss her now. Oddly, something held him back from doing so.

"Through the front door, everyone was asleep." She giggled, pulling him along towards their canoe. "She's a beauty; did you make sure she was clear of spiders, this time?" She gave him a push, a teasing grin on her face.

"Yes, no spiders this time." He laughed, thinking back on the last time when he forgot to check for that. "Let's get her out on the water." They both slid the canoe through the sand, then into the lake, where they both hopped on. Pushing them off with his paddle, he handed her another and together they paddled the canoe towards the island.

Above them, a lonely bright moon watched them from its celestial abode. No clouds passed by in the sky, instead, the stars shone brilliantly without competition from city lights.

Steven let out a sigh, stretching out his feet so that they were tapping Julia's.

She smiled back at him, moving closer, while continuing to paddle. "You know, I was afraid to like you, Steven. I really was."

"It's the messy hair, isn't it? I totally left my toque at home, so embarrassed." He grinned.

"I actually love your hair," she stared at him, her eyes widening. "But I was afraid because of what always happens when I like someone—they don't. Then there's the distance and I knew that would only bring heartache in the end. But now, I don't even care."

"You should though, perhaps I'm a little scared as well, and maybe the distance will be too much." He moved closer to her, feeling sweat begin to build up on his skin. "I know it's been like two weeks, and this is going to sound cheesy, but it feels much longer. Julia, I do care. I care about you, and I care about making this work. I know a lot of people would want this to just be a silly little fling. But I don't."

Julia nodded her head, biting her lower lip. "Could we handle more than a 'silly little fling'? I mean, we have separate lives and such, I don't want to like you just so I can lose you."

"Perhaps not," he saw that the island was close by and decided to let their momentum take care of the rest of the journey. "And perhaps yes. I don't know, but I do know that I like you... and that distance doesn't mean a thing to me. I may be crazy for saying this, but I want to make this work. Even if all our relationship becomes are letters and text messages."

"Good." Was all she said, before a cool breeze blew over them and the canoe hit the island. They both got out of the canoe, pulling it halfway onto the shore, leaving the paddles inside.

"Imagine if the canoe got loose and drifted away?" Steven asked with a grin.

They moved the canoe fully onto the shore.

Julia took Steven's hand, leading him further up the beach, to the other side where the camp couldn't be seen. Since the only inhabitants of the island weren't there this weekend, they had the place all to themselves.

They both lay down on the wet, rough sand, staring into one another's eyes. "I just need you to promise me something Steven." She pressed her body up to his, while he wrapped his arms around her.

"Anything."

"Never let me go." She got on top of him, lowering her face so that her mouth was above his.

"I won't."

Then she kissed him, wrapping her arms around his neck, while he kissed her back.

Steven found out that he was right.

She wore only that shirt.

A drop of rain woke Steven from his remembering. Blinking away the memory, he saw that he was no longer with Julia at all. Instead, he was back on the island where they had spent their final night together.

Looking around, frightened by the sudden change, he saw that Julia was nowhere to be seen. Shaking, he took a step forward, and then another, as more rain fell from the dark clouds. It was now nighttime, and he could only see distant lights.

Across the lake, he was sure he could make out the camp, shining brightly on the other side. Up on a hill, he saw a fire, recognizing it as Overlook Hill.

"Julia."

For only a moment his eyes closed to blink, but when they opened, he was standing on a dirt road. In front of him, also standing on the dirt road was himself. Steven.

"No way." Steven stared at himself, but received no reciprocal behavior.

The other Steven simply stood on the dirt road, his bags sitting beside him at his feet.

Before him, driving away was a car.

In that car was Julia.

And she was driving away. Far away.

It would be the last time he'd ever see her in reality.

Then, as his eyes closed once more, when they opened, he was back in his bed.

However, he was completely soaked from the rain that had fallen on him during the dream. What was happening?

Then he heard a scream from downstairs.

Chapter Fourteen

___________________

Steven had never woken up from a dream, where what had happened physically to him there, also happened to him in reality. Instead of lying in his bed, warm, dry and drowsy, he woke up, covered in rainwater and tore the blankets off him.

In his dark room, he noticed that one particular corner wasn't. A small desk, much too tiny to accommodate him, was huddled in the corner, a lamp sitting on its colorful top.

Sitting at the desk, was a young boy, scribbling away at a piece of paper with red crayon.

The lamp was on, illuminating the eerily familiar child.

"What are you doing in my room?" Steven asked firmly, getting off his bed and stripping off his soaked shirt. It was getting uncomfortable, so he threw it to the ground, looking for another shirt he knew was somewhere on the floor.

However, the carpeted floor was only occupied by toys and little kids clothes.

A book by Dr. Seuss lay open on the carpet.

The little boy, still drawing on his paper, didn't turn around when Steven spoke, nor did he move when Steven came up behind him.

He reached out his hand, resting it on the boy's soft, dark hair.

His own.

Withdrawing his hand, he took a step back in horror. "You're me..." Glancing at the room, he began to recognize what had once adorned his walls and carpet. A picture of their family, Mom, Dad, and Steven took up the most space.

Approaching it, he knew without a doubt that the little boy in the picture was the same boy sitting at the desk.

Himself.

Other old toys, locked away in his memory, grew in familiarity. There was an old train set scattered on the floor, nearby trucks, cars, action figures, toy animals and dinosaurs littered the carpet, as well as old shirts he vaguely remembered.

"This is unreal. Julia! Julia are you here?" He shouted out, hoping that she was somewhere in the dream. Perhaps he'd finally been around to see what happened when a dream changed.

That's when he heard a scream come frown downstairs.

Both Steven's turned their head, eyes widening. "Mom!" The younger Steven shouted, pushing over his chair, crayon still in hand. Moving with surprising agility and speed, his younger self exited the room with all haste.

"Mom?" Steven's heart nearly stopped. His mother was here? If he could see her once, just once—dream or not, he would be overjoyed. Running out of the room, he saw his younger self take the stairs two at a time, before hitting the hallway and sprinting down it.

"Mom!" Younger Steven shouted once more, turning a corner into the kitchen. "Mom!" His cry was bloodcurdling, sending shivers and memories down his spine. Paling, he knew without a doubt what the boy had discovered in that kitchen.

Without the aid of the dream, he could vividly recall it himself.

Why not? He'd run the memory over in his mind countless times.

Bathed in sweat and rainwater, Steven leapt down the stairs in one bound, falling to his knees, before doing a roll and collapsing in the hall. As always in the dream, there was no pain. Only an odd, numbing sensation ran up and down his body as he ambled back up to his feet.

Behind him, he heard his father's door opening. "Steven! Steven come back here!" He kept pace with Steven until they reached the kitchen.

No one in this wretched memory paid the seventeen year old, sopping wet kid any attention.

"I'm sorry!" He heard a man's voice come from the kitchen, just as he entered it. In one quick glance he saw the horrifying memory play out. It took only a few seconds for the events which changed his life to take place.

A man stood halfway in their doorway, a gun extended towards his mother. She was sitting on a chair at the kitchen table, a book resting on the tabletop. Beside the book, a steaming hot cup of tea. She stood up, her hands raised and trembling.

Behind her, Younger Steven huddled around her leg, crying out in fear.

The man, who was wearing a ripped, tight hoodie, put his finger on the trigger.

His mom let out another scream.

Then the man said what had forever been locked away in Steven's mind: "No! I didn't know! I didn't know!" What he would later realize that to mean, was that the man had been fleeing from the police. He'd come to their house, seeing that there were no vehicles present and their lights were mostly turned off. Without having any other option, he'd picked their house to evade the police.

What he didn't know was that the family was indeed home, while their vehicles were parked along the street a ways back so visitors who'd been at their house earlier, would have better places to park.

The Walker's were considerate like that.

But it was not just what the man said that had stayed in Steven's mind, haunting him—fuelling deep rage and hatred. Bitterness. No, it was how he'd put his finger on the trigger, pulling it as he aimed the pistol at his dear mother.

He shot twice.

Both Steven's let out a howl of rage, one of them running to his fallen mother, the other towards the man. Knowing that it was of course too late to save her, Steven left his weeping, devastated family in their kitchen.

He would pursue the man.

Unsure if it would do any good, he decided to let his rage take control. He only turned around once, staring at his mother as she lay on the kitchen floor, blood pooling around her. His father picked her up in his arms, kissing her face, shouting in agony.

Younger Steven pressed his face against his mother's bosom, not knowing what else to do. All he wanted was his mother to stroke his hair, telling him that all was good; she was just hurt, but would be better soon enough.

Turning away from them, hot tears streaming down his face, he pushed the ajar door fully open. "You're not getting away this time!" He threw himself down the short flight of stairs, tearing down the sidewalk after the man as he fled down their deserted driveway.

He saw the gun fall from his hands, clattering on the driveway. Stooping down, he picked it up, tripped, but recovered. Slipping the gun into his belt, he took off down the sidewalk, under the cover of night.

Steven was right on his heels, breathing heavily, yet feeling no pain.

Only pure, unadulterated fury.

"Stop! Damn it, stop!" Steven felt no fear as he lunged at the man, not knowing if it would accomplish anything. However, unlike with others in his dreams, he could touch this one.

Grabbing his legs, he tripped the man, held on tightly and watched as he collapsed on the sidewalk. His hand still around his leg he got on top of him, trying to pin his arms to the sidewalk.

Instead, the man was much quicker, as he elbowed Steven in the face.

Steven reeled from the blow, not hurt, but surprised.

In that moment, the tables were turned and the man threw Steven off him. Letting out a groan, he quickly got up, taking the gun from his belt. "You have no idea what you're doing." With a laugh, he brushed off his pants, seemingly not in a hurry any longer.

Steven scurried away, trembling. In his heart, it was a battle between fear and rage. Fear won, getting onto his heart, riding it like a horse. With a swift kick, it sent it beating fast. "Who are you?"

"Who am I?" He took off the hoodie, revealing a disfigured, rotting face. It was the same man from the dilapidated house. His skin still falling off in patches, revealing bone, muscle and sinew. "Who do you think I am?"

Steven blanched, slowly getting to his feet. "Why did you kill my mother!?"

"You don't understand Steven." The man raised his gun, aiming it at him. "You're hopelessly lost. Confused. Pathetic. Weak. Why don't you just wake up?" Then he shot him.

Steven closed his eyes as the bullet tore into his chest.

The man lowered his gun, speaking in a barely audible voice. "Don't trust her."

Then Steven opened his eyes.

And this time, lying in his bed, dressed in warm clothes under a familiar, thick blanket, he awoke to reality.

Chapter Fifteen

_________________

When Cerise's phone rang that afternoon, she'd hoped that it was Steven calling.

She'd made some tea, found Oreos and snacked as her television provided her with some light, distracting entertainment. Losing track of time, she was startled out of her watching by her cell-phone buzzing.

It'd been a long time since someone had actually called her on her phone; most just sent text messages.

Pressing 'talk' on her screen, she put the phone to her ear. "Hello?"

"Hey, Cerise." Drake's deep, familiar voice sounded distorted and broken up through the connection.

"Drake! Hey, how's it going?" She was surprised, but happily so by the unexpected call. Taking a sip of her tea, she waited for him to answer.

"I'm really good. I was just going through the McD's drive-thru and was wondering if I could pick up something for you? I just got off work and need something to do, are you busy?"

"Not at all," she laughed, glancing at the television screen. "I actually wouldn't mind an ice cream right now. Are you at the one on Regent?"

"Yep, is that an Oreo or Smarty ice cream?"

"Do you have to ask?"

"Rolo it is." He laughed, while Cerise smiled. "I know, I know, it's Oreo. Be over there in a minute." He hung up; she broke the connection and placed the cell back in her pocket.

It wasn't Steven, but she didn't really care anymore.

She missed her good friend; and that someone had cared enough to be with her meant a great deal.

She ran back to the bathroom, checking in the mirror to see if she looked alright. Aside from dark lines under her eyes and the smudged make-up, she was satisfied with her appearance. It was just Drake; he would love her if she looked like she'd just gotten out of bed.

When she walked past the front door, she heard someone knocking on it. Startled, she brushed her hair behind her ear and walked over to it. "You're really quick, Drake, wow." She began to say as she opened the door.

Instead of her friend greeting her, Nathan was waiting outside. In his hand was a bouquet of flowers. Smiling sheepishly, he waited for her to let him in. "Hey Cerise." He lifted the flowers towards her.

"Nathan." Cerise folded her arms over her chest as she leaned against the doorframe. "Um, hey. Are those for me?"

"They are. I—I uh, wanted to say how sorry I was. I really messed up Cerise, I really did." He held out the flowers again, his eyes filled with a look that she hadn't seen in a long time. It was the same look that he'd given her when he asked her out for the first time. Vulnerability. Sweetness.

Taking the flowers, their fingertips brushed up against one another's in the exchange.

She wanted to deny it, but a surge of electricity shot up her arm at his touch. Exciting.

Frowning, she took a step outside, letting the door close behind her.

"Thanks Nathan."

He fidgeted nervously, staring at his feet like a schoolboy asking out a girl for the first time. Smacking his lips, he put on a smile, she supposed was meant to be charming, but came off wolfish. "I also came, because Cerise. I miss you. A lot."

Right. Cerise didn't want him to get the wrong idea, so she took a step back, closer to her front door. "Oh." She thought of Drake coming and knew this conversation would have to wait. "Sorry Nathan, but I think you have to go."

Wincing, he took a step forward. "I'm serious Cerise. I really miss you. And I still love you. I know you don't believe me, but I want to make us better. Even if that means getting it all thrown in my face."

Cerise just gaped at him, wishing that her heart wasn't beating so fast.

The back of her throat was dry and she coughed into her sleeve.

"Nathan. You cheated on me—you broke my heart. I don't want to be in one of those relationships where it's break up, get back together, break up, and get back together. That isn't right. I don't mind if we stay friends, in fact, I want that. I miss you. It's just; I don't want a relationship between us." She was about to turn around, her hand reaching for her doorknob.

But there was that look back in his eyes.

A glint, a speck of bitter remorse. Weakness. Of self-loathing, a gap in a set of armor she was always sure was unassailable.

Sighing, she stared deep into his eyes, realizing that the glint remained. It wasn't passing or hidden, there was something different in his stare. The usual cockiness had completely disappeared, replaced by a sorrow that she had never seen in him.

"Cerise, I know you hate me."

"No, I don't hate you. I just don't love you anymore." She opened the door, taking a step inside. Turning around, she saw that Nathan was trembling. "You hurt me, Nathan. You broke my heart, and that's why I can't let you back in. It's time we just said goodbye. Neither of us can live like this."

The door began to close.

Nathan shook his head, taking a few steps forward. "Please! Cerise, when I promised I would love you, I meant it. I still love you, and I know, somewhere inside, you love me too."

"You're wrong, Nathan."

"No! You're just too scared to do what you want! What you know you should!"

"What I should do?" Cerise dropped the flowers, letting them fall on the stairs outside the door. "I have to let you go, Nathan. Yes, a part of me wanted to make this work, but then I remembered how you looked at her and how you looked at me. Sometimes, the one you want isn't the one you need."

"Please, Cerise! I love you! I want you! And if I need to change, then so be it, I'll change!"

"But you only change for the worse. Now please, go home, Nathan. I can't do this right now. We just have to leave one another alone, maybe..." she pressed her lips together, knowing that giving him hope was the wrong thing to do. "We just have to say goodbye."

"I don't want to."

"I want to. Nathan, you need to leave." Her heart tore as she saw another look enter his eyes—pain. Raw, undiluted pain. Pain that she had inflicted upon him. Gone was his earlier look of vulnerability.

"Cerise."

"No. Please go away Nathan."

"Just—" Nathan opened his mouth to say more, but turned around when a car pulled into her driveway. It parked, and then the front door opened, revealing Drake. He held her ice cream and his coffee, which he carried with him as he came up slowly—hesitantly to her front door. "What the hell is he doing here?"

"Drake's my friend, Nathan—my best friend. Now get out of here." She took a step forward, stepping on the bouquet of flowers, watching as Drake came up to her front door.

Nathan went down a step, glaring at Drake.

"Hey Cerise," he glanced at Nathan, frowning. "Hey Nathan. Is this a good time?"

"Nathan was just leaving." Cerise was about to reach for her ice cream, when the tray it was on went flying into the air. The coffee and ice cream sailed into the air, spilling out on the sidewalk.

Nathan had tossed the tray out of Drake's hand, as he seethed with rage. "This is who you chose over me? Really?" He laughed bitterly, scowling at Cerise and her friend. "You seriously fell in love with him?" He made a nauseated face, turning around briskly.

Cerise glanced at her friend, who'd stooped down to pick up the coffee and ice cream.

"Well you know what? Screw you both," he said before heading back to his car. "I don't want your friendship, Cerise. I don't need it. If you want to fall in love with that asshole, it's fine by me."

Cerise ignored him, sighing heavily. For a second, she had truly believed that Nathan had changed. "I'm so sorry, Drake." She took the tray from him, which was now covered in coffee and spilt ice cream with chunks of Oreo.

"Don't be, are you okay?" He followed her inside, closing the door behind them.

With a sigh, she set the tray on a nearby table, nodding her head. "I'm just glad he's gone."

Staring at the ruined coffee and ice cream, Drake took it and threw it into the garbage. Grinning, he gave his friend a hug as she leaned against the couch, a miserable expression on her face. "C'mon, let's go for a walk. It's actually beautiful outside. Wind's died down and it's only a little freezing out there."

"Okay," she took his hand, holding it tightly. "Thanks for always being there for me. You're an incredible friend." Squeezing his hand, she let it go, not caring if he took that the wrong way. All she wanted was to spend time with the one person that had always been there for her.

Hopefully, one day she could make it up to him.

Chapter Sixteen

_________________

"Mommy is gone?" A six-year-old Steven sat down on a church pew with his father, tugging at the uncomfortable tie his father had made him wear. Swinging his legs back and forth, his father put an arm on his shoulder, attempting to keep him still.

"Yes Steven. We talked about this, remember?" His father sat morosely beside him, staring ahead as the minister gave a brief, concluding sermon at the end of the service. His tone was filled with compassion, as he comforted the family and friends of Laura Walker. Standing at the front of the stuffy church, his voice carried all the way to the back of the sanctuary.

Steven stood at the back of the church, now seventeen years old, reliving his mother's funeral in a dream. With his hands clasped behind his back, he listened solemnly, now able to understand fully the stories and memories shared.

However his father's voice and his own were especially loud, reaching his ears with more volume than the minister.

Slowly, he perused the rows and rows of family and friends, all of them for the day mourners. Most of the people seated were strangers to him—leaving the Walker's life when the funeral was over. Others were younger versions of people he'd come to love. Uncle Julian sat beside his brother, alone since he wouldn't meet his wife for another couple years.

"And we find comfort in the knowledge of where Laura Walker now resides—in the arms of her Heavenly Father. That our goodbye isn't forever—someday we will all be reunited in Paradise." The minister's voice carried with it sincere, chill-inducing conviction. Before him, the crowd of mourners nodded their heads, making noises of approval.

And that, Steven thought, was the problem with religion.

Death.

People were simply unable to come to grips with the fact that those they loved were never coming back. Although Steven wished so hard that he would see his mother again, he knew that it wasn't going to happen. All he had were memories. Yet, to people who wanted to be masters of everything—there remained one challenge that could never be overcome.

Death.

So instead of curing death, people invented stories and ideas that took away the finality of death. They defeated death with ideas, stories and inventions of their own imagination. People made the afterlife, because no one can really fathom that life does end.

Steven came right up to the altar of the church, turning around so that he was facing the entire congregation of mourners.

None of them took notice of him however; this was a memory, nothing more.

All he did was stand and face the mourners, staring at one face in particular. His father. Dressed in a suit and tie he stared at the minister with a lost, mournful expression. As if he wasn't really sure why he was there. Beside him, his younger self fidgeted in his seat, staring at the floor with an equally as lost expression in his eyes.

Steven couldn't take it anymore.

Walking out of the church, he took a seat on the gravel road outside. He leaned his back against the concrete wall of the church, staring up at the blue sky, marveling at just how unspectacular it was.

Wiping his brow, he saw that Julia was waiting for him outside, her back to the church.

Instead of running up to her, he'd asked her to give him some time alone. He needed to face this memory by himself. Now that he'd faced his past, he felt absolutely no different. Nothing was resolved, nothing cleared up. His mother was still dead, his father dying, and nothing to comfort him. No paradise to imagine meeting up with them in when all their lives were done.

Sometimes, he wished he could believe.

Staring up at the sky, he wished that something would call out to him, saying that all his troubles would be cleared up. That everything happened for a reason. That perhaps he was wrong and that there was a place where he would go when all was said and done.

In a world where dreams existed, was it such a crazy thought?

Steven stared at Julia, who was oblivious to his presence.

Closing his eyes, he willed himself to wake up.

And he did.

Steven was back in the nearly empty hospital room, sitting at his father's bedside, his eyes slowly beginning to open. Lifting his head off his chest, he saw that more flowers had accumulated near his father, accompanied by opened cards.

His grandparents, who were daily attendees of their son, were nowhere to be seen.

Staring out the window, he saw that nighttime had fallen swiftly over the city. All he could see was a dark sky and the lighted windows from nearby skyscrapers. There were no stars out tonight.

He took his phone off his lap, and saw that it was ten o'clock at night.

And he had several unread text messages.

They could wait.

He slipped his phone in his pocket, sitting up in his seat. Although he was tempted to go back to sleep, as his eyes were having a hard time staying open, he saw that his father was awake. Without anyone else in the room, this would be one of the few times he could actually talk to him in private.

"Hey Dad." Steven leaned closer to his father's bed, resting his elbows on the blanket covering his father.

"Steven." His father's weak voice was barely audible.

Steven moved closer, so that his head was hovering over his father's chest. He was close enough to hear the raspy, wheezing breaths from his father.

"You've had a lot of visitors." He wanted to ask if he was feeling any better, but could already guess the answer. His form was frailer than ever, his face more gaunt, his eyes sunk in, and smile rare. All he really did most of the day was sleep.

"I can start... start—my own... floral... company." His father struggled to say. He wheezed out a weak, feeble chuckle. "It's nice... though... seeing them all... again. Too bad—death... was what it took."

"You're not dead yet." Steven took his father's limp hand, holding it tightly.

"Yet." His father's head rolled to the side, so that his pale blue eyes were now staring up at him. "Steven... you have... no... idea." He coughed loudly, his eyes clamping shut. His hands began shaking. "How much... how sorry... I am." A light flickered behind his dying eyes.

Steven couldn't believe that his father was saying this now. However, it was probably the best time to say it. All the anger, rage and bitterness couldn't be summoned at the sight of his father losing his life to cancer. Not that he forgot, but right now, he just didn't care.

"Sorry for what?" Steven already knew the answer.

His father shut his eyes, his hands falling to his side. "For... for how I am... you needed me Steven... when Mom died... I couldn't lose you as well... I could never get close... I was so selfish... so scared to lose you too..." He opened his eyes, years of pain and anger spilling out in one sentence. "I love you, Steven... I never told you... but I love you. You're my son... I'm proud of the man you've... become." He reached out with his free hand, touching his son's face.

Steven opened his mouth, lips trembling. "I—" He couldn't finish what he wanted to say. Instead, he let go of his father's hand. No matter how badly the words wanted to come out, he couldn't give them life.

With fingers trembling, Steven got to his feet.

"Steven," his father mumbled, attempting to lift his head off his pillow.

However, his son was already walking out of the room, not entirely sure what he should be feeling. At the words, "I love you", he'd nearly broken down. His father hadn't told him those words since he was six years old, and his mother was still alive.

He marched down the hall, passing by doctors and nurses. In the waiting room, he saw his grandpa sitting by the pop machine, waiting for Grandma, who was buying a bottled drink. They called out his name upon seeing him, but Steven wasn't stopping.

All he wanted to do was go outside—clear his head.

Once he was outside, embraced by the frigid autumn air, he took a seat on the sidewalk, leaning forward. He covered his hands with his face, trying to hold back the tears, but not entirely succeeding. The last time he'd felt this conflicted, was the day his father told him he was adopted.

He'd been nine years old.

Now, sitting in front of the hospital, he had no idea how to feel.

All he'd wanted was his parents to love him, to be there for him. During the hard times, he wanted someone to come alongside him, to listen to his problems and give advice. When he was heartbroken, he wanted someone to remind him that in the end, it would be alright. All he wanted were his parents—but one of them had died, the other had been murdered.

His father had only a week at best left to live—why had he chosen now to open up to him? There would be no future for them, his father was leaving. His 'I love you' stung more than it helped him. It was like setting free a prisoner a day before his release.

A reminder of what could've been.

"Hey, kid."

Steven was interrupted out of his thoughts by the familiar, deep voice. He looked up to see the Keeper taking a seat beside him, his long grey and blonde hair pulled into a ponytail. Easing himself on the cement, he stretched out his legs onto the road, not caring those cars driving past had to give him a wide berth.

"You." Steven sniffed, frowning warily. "Still watching me?"

"We need to talk. Thursday. I will find you, be ready." Getting back to his feet, he folded his arms over his chest. "Why are you crying anyways?"

"It's nothing."

"Good." Turning away, he stared up at the dark clouds. "Storm's coming."

"Wait," Steven got up, wiping away the remnants of his tears. "You said there was still time... time for what?"

The Keeper just kept walking, disappearing into the night.

Steven stared after him, knowing that chasing after him would be pointless.

It was time he asked Julia about this Keeper.

Chapter Seventeen

____________________

The automatic door slid open as two customers with grocery bags in hand walked out of Superstore. Following them, a young woman with curly auburn hair exited the store. With her newly bought, grey jacket buttoned up, she marched through the cool air towards her car.

One of her friends and fellow employee at Superstore came up to her. "Are you going to Melina's party tonight?" She had on a bright orange vest, which she was still trying to strap on properly.

Cerise was eager to get inside her warm car, shaking her head.

A gust of frigid air blew over them, sending a grocery cart nearby to roll down one of the parking lot aisles towards two cars. Swearing, her friend ran after the cart before it scratched up the car it was rolling towards.

"Why not?"

"I'm busy, sorry! See you tomorrow." She called out before opening her car and getting into the driver's seat. She fixed her hair, which had been blown into disarray by the wind.

Thanks to command start her car was already started.

She giggled as her friend ran after another cart being pushed by the wind. This time the cart was faster than her, as it slammed against a van, while a customer inside it gave a startled scowl. "Oh gosh," she felt for her friend and would gladly have helped if she wasn't pressed for time.

Fortunately Drake was also out on the parking lot, helping her friend gather the carts before they tallied up a nice lawsuit from the vehicle owners.

She was about to drive out of the parking lot, when she saw Drake coming towards her, huddled in a thick, brown parka. Waving her down, he approached her window, tapping on the glass. Reluctantly she rolled down her window, letting in the frigid outside air.

Cerise rubbed her hands together, "Yes, Drake?"

"You said you were going out with Steven, right?" Drake's eyes widened and he walked over to the passenger's side, getting in. Cerise rolled up the window and they both sat in the warm car, staring at one another. "Sorry, didn't want you freezing on my account."

"It's okay." Cerise stared at Drake, wondering why he was asking about Steven.

"You're going out with Steven?"

"He invited me for some coffee, yes." There was a glint in his eye, not of jealousy as she had suspected, but to her surprise, it was concern in his eyes.

Drake smiled softly, "You like him, don't you?"

Cerise paused, swallowed nervously and nodded her head. "Yes. I like him a lot." Wow. It had been the first time that she'd actually said it aloud. It was amazing how great it felt to say it, and truly mean it.

"Be careful then." Was all Drake said before opening the car door. Stepping back out into the cold, he ducked into the car once more, a frown firmly planted on his face. "I'd hate to see you hurt, Cerise."

"I'll be fine Drake," she thought of Steven, her heart swelled. "Thanks."

"Have a nice night." He shut the door, walking away with his hands in his jacket pockets.

Driving out of the parking lot, Cerise made her way towards Kildonan Park. Earlier in the day, Steven had suggested that they try some of the best coffee in all of Winnipeg. Since there was supposed to be a major snowstorm that night, he wanted to go before it closed for the winter season.

There'd been a lot of conflict inside her when he first asked her in the afternoon. Melina had invited her days ago to attend her party, which would be for only the seniors at her school. Nathan wouldn't even be there, while lots of hot guys, alcohol and crazy times were to be had. She'd never been one to miss partying with her girlfriends.

Still, this was Steven.

There was no better an opportunity to win his heart than tonight. There were numerous guys, better looking than Steven, who would gladly fall in love with her. They would be easy to handle, since they'd be casual and exciting. After her heart-wrenching break up with Nathan, she wasn't sure if another committed, deep relationship was the right thing.

Still, this was Steven.

So she decided that for once she'd miss a party and attempt to win back Steven's heart. Perhaps it wouldn't be as fun as throbbing music, alcohol, hot guys and her girlfriends, but it held the promise of being far more rewarding. That night and its events would be confined to that one, crazy party.

Going with Steven could bring so much more.

The darkening sky, filling with clouds, let out a light sprinkle of snow as she entered the park. Surprised to see snow falling so early in the year, she parked her car in the lonely parking lot and eagerly stepped out. Staring up at the sky, she watched the thick, white flakes fall all around. One of them landed in her open mouth.

Around her, the trees swayed in the strong, pressing gust. Leafs swirled and eddied around in the current of air; she let her hair be free in the wind, no longer caring. With a delighted laugh, she went bright red when Steven came towards her.

"Cerise." He laughed, wearing a form-fitting black, fur-lined jacket. An orange toque covered his dark hair which came close to covering his perfect blue eyes. With a smile, he stepped forward, giving her a friendly hug.

She returned it, pressing her body close to his. Underneath his jacket, she could feel the slight outline of muscle, not too much, but more then she expected. Stifling a giggle, she swept loose hair out of her eyes and resisted the urge to kiss him.

It wasn't the right time.

Not yet anyways.

"Steven. What brings you here on such a cold night?"

"Trying the world's greatest coffee. Join me, will you?" He smiled, hesitated, and then put out his elbow so she could link arms with him.

Pleasantly surprised by the gesture, she gladly hooked arms with him. Last time they'd talked, there'd been walls she felt Steven was putting up to keep her out. Though she had no idea why, she suspected that he might be scared to break her heart again. Yes, it was five years prior, but it was still a haunting break up.

She had to let him know that it was alright to fall for her.

Steven was no Nathan. Was he dangerous? A little, she would concede that much.

Was she still going to give him her heart? Yes, because he was different, better than the young kid she had met those five years ago. That he was as considerate towards her feelings to conceal his own only made her like him that much more.

"So it's the world's greatest coffee now? Not just Winnipeg's?"

"For now, Winnipeg is our world." He led her down a darkening path that wove in and out of the tall, thick trees. Every three meters or so, a lamppost was erected to shine dull, warm light. The snow was illuminated in the light, as it fell thicker and faster.

Several others also took to the path, walking their dogs or speaking in quiet, hushed tones.

"Is it alright if I ask about your dad?" Cerise moved closer to Steven, wondering if she could get her hand to hold his. She still remembered how flawlessly his fingers interwove into hers. Not since Cinderella slipped her foot into that glass slipper, had there been a more perfect fit.

"Sure."

"Okay. Is he doing any better? Have they tried any new treatments?" Cerise had never lost someone, so she knew not if Steven wanted to talk about it or wished to keep silent. Sometimes, people needed to talk about a tragedy to come to grips with it, while others healed from silence and physical comfort.

Others just let their hearts bleed.

Steven swallowed, his pace slowing. "No." He turned off the main trail, down a straight, narrow path cutting in-between two parallel soccer fields. "At the moment, all treatments would do is hurt him more. I guess their main concern is keeping him as comfortable as possible."

"Oh," she looked up at him. "He'll be alright though, things will look up."

His face only darkened, and then lightened when their eyes met. "No."

"I'm sorry." She sighed when she heard his hurt, aggravated tone. "I just don't know what to say, I'm terrible at comforting people." Her laugh dried up and died quicker than the leaves on the nearby trees.

There was a hint of a smile when he looked down at her. "No one ever knows what to say. Really, there is nothing you can say. Just being with me helps. I need a good friend, and you're being that right now, Cerise."

At the word 'friend' she stiffened a bit. "Of course I'll always be here for you."

"I hope so."

Neither of them said much after that until they reached the coffee shop. Cerise distracted herself by staring at the snow as it fell from the darkening, thickening clouds. The last rays of light were piercing through the trees, while the clouds smothered the rest.

Warmth radiated from Steven as they continued walking in unison.

"You're warm."

"Actually, I'm hot."

"You're funny." She chuckled, elbowing him playfully. "But seriously, you're so warm."

At this he laughed, nodding his head.

"Girls must love cuddling next to you." Well, she sure would love to.

Again, he laughed, his deep, rich voice carrying in the strengthening wind. "What girls?"

"Pshh, whatever Steven. There must've been lots of girls after we broke up. You should tell me about them."

"Not much to tell. Really, I haven't had much time for a relationship." He paused, and then chuckled sardonically. "Okay, plenty of time to, but no takers. I've enjoyed living the single life."

"Even now?" Cerise tried to sound hopeful, just not obviously so. There was something to be said in the subtle inquisition of a love interest, rather than proclaiming that love.

There was a long pause before Steven cleared his throat and answered. "At camp I met someone. You know that I went to Alberta, right?"

"You mentioned it."

"Well I met someone there, and we fell in love, you could say." His cheeks went red, while his eyes remained downcast. "But we had to go our separate ways, guess I learned that lesson the hard way." Though there was something unconvincing and fake in his tone.

Cerise hardly noticed.

"She broke up with you?"

"We broke up with each other, I guess? It was a silly camp fling, we both knew it wasn't going to last." Steven explained briefly and hastily.

"Do you still like her?"

"Not really," he let go of her arm, indicating where the coffee shop was down the path. "I mean, it's really hard to stop liking someone. Like with Nathan, even though the relationship was over, you still had feelings for him. Same with me, except my feelings aren't so strong. It's hard to just forget someone like that.

"I don't think that people were meant to go through heartache and feelings like that, follow? Like, when you give your heart to someone, such a powerful connection is built—which is only amplified when you fall in love. And to just cut those connections, those bonds, is emotionally devastating, I don't think people were made to go through that. It's why some of us are so screwed up; having your heart torn and twisted like that eventually takes its toll."

Cerise only smiled sweetly at him. "Maybe we weren't meant to, but we do anyways. A lot of things that happen to us shouldn't happen, but they do anyways. Sometimes those heartaches can lead to our greatest joys."

"Maybe."

"Maybe." She repeated, her smile turning into a laugh as he smiled goofily at her. "Let's just get some coffee."

"I know a place." He cocked his head, stepping over to the front doors of a cozy, small café. Three trees towered at the back it, their branches hanging over the low roof and protecting it like a mother holds a child in her arms.

As the snow built up on the ground, they walked down the worn out path towards the café, getting a glimpse of the inside through a small, open window. The exterior was made to look like a log cabin straight out of Little House on the Prairie, as if Charles Ingalls had built it himself.

There was even a small, metal chimney puffing out smoke into the snowy air.

"Quaint," she thought of the house party she could be at, realizing this was at the opposite end of the spectrum. She also realized how happy she was, walking and talking with a boy she'd once fallen in love with.

"I like it too," he grinned, opening and holding the door for her. When she stepped past him, he followed her inside, both of them greeted by warm air and the heavy aroma of coffee.

Small, round tables dotted the cozy, warm café. There were only several other patrons inside sitting at booths lined up against the wall. The interior was built like a log cabin, just as the exterior was. Planks of wood made up the floor, while rough beams of timber gave the walls a rustic feel.

Only the counter at one end of the café, where the kitchen and cashier was located felt out of place.

"Wow I love it," Cerise commented as memories of going out to the cabin as a family overwhelmed her. "What are you getting?"

"Café mocha and an apple fritter, which I must say they make the best of. It's warm, sugary and melts in your mouth." He grinned, his eyes glowing. "C'mon, I'm treating, what do you want?"

"Thanks, I'll just play it safe and get what you're ordering."

"Are you sure that's so safe?" He winked, walked up to the cashier and ordered their beverage and pastry. In a few minutes time, as they were both talking near the counter, they received their food.

Steven carried it over to one of the booths near a window, away from everyone else and took a seat. Cerise got on the other side of the table, as they both sipped their mochas and devoured their apple fritters. She conceded that both were excellent, thanking him for treating her.

For an hour they were lost in conversation, which continued long after their cups and plates were home only to crumbs and drops. She confessed to him many things that she hadn't told anyone else, but found that telling him made her feel a thousand times lighter. Steven listened intently, telling her equally embarrassing stories and truths about himself.

Another hour went by, before turning into two, still they kept on talking.

Their stories, laughter and memories slowly began to take a more serious turn, when their break up was finally mentioned. Cerise began to say how she felt; he began to say how he felt. She learned, surprisingly, that Steven had regretted the break up for years, even up to this day.

It was the perfect avenue for her to take so she could say what had been on her heart all evening. "Steven," she said with an irrepressible smile. "I still like you, I really do." She laughed; surprised that she'd been able to say that. Her heart was beating faster and stronger than it had in such a long time.

His reaction was not at all reciprocal. Instead, with a fixed gaze, his lips tilted in an odd, amused smile, he took a crumb off his plate, rolling it up into a ball with his index finger and thumb. For a good, long moment, he said absolutely nothing at all.

Blinking, she felt her cheeks go red. She waited a few more moments, but Steven said nothing in return. "Sorry, I guess you don't like me back. I was being stupid." She snatched her purse off the bench, sliding out of the booth.

Steven still said nothing.

With a sigh, she got up. "I'll just go."

Cerise was no longer sitting across from him.

It was Julia.

Throughout the entire night, he wasn't sure who he was actually with. Sometimes he'd look at her, seeing his beautiful, auburn haired friend. Other times, it was Julia. Her voice, her laugh, her looks, her personality—Cerise was completely replaced in those moments.

Instead of fear filling him, it was like he was unable to notice how wrong that was. When he looked over at Cerise, only to see Julia, he was filled with such love for her. It took every bit of self-control not to reach over and kiss her.

Even though he knew in his mind that it wasn't Julia, his feelings weren't convinced. His beating, pounding heart reacted as though she were truly on a date with him. He knew she was in a coma, but he also felt as though she were in this café with him.

Staring down at his plate, he heaved a sigh, knowing that if he looked at her one more time; he wouldn't be able to contain himself. Instead, he picked a crumb off his plate, trying to distract himself from whoever sat across the booth.

He vaguely heard her say, "Sorry, I guess you don't like me back. I was being stupid."

Cerise said those words.

All he felt was sadness for her. He could never love Cerise, he made Julia a promise he would always keep. Her words stung, but if he could let her leave, they would both benefit in the long run.

He only stared at his plate, a concentrated, contemplative expression in his deep, blue eyes.

There was sigh—Cerise. Then the words that followed from her mouth weren't hers at all. "I'll just go." It was Julia's voice he heard.

His heart retched, his hands began to tremble.

As if snapping out of a trance, he lifted his head to face her. Only, who he saw looking back at him was once more Cerise. With a sigh of his own, he knew he was committed now to saying goodbye.

"You can't like me, Cerise." Standing up, he noticed the intrigued glances from others in the café. "Let's go outside and talk."

It wasn't complete rejection, but Cerise could do nothing to stop the pain swelling in her heart. Biting her lower lip, she stared pointedly at him, when he suggested they go outside and talk.

"About what?" She tried to keep her disappointment in check, yet found that her urge to cry was substantial. Sighing, she buttoned up her jacket. "You're just going to say 'you want to be friends' I get it, okay. I've given that talk to others a lot of times as well."

"Don't be so quick to assume." He smiled, and then faltered as she took a step past him.

Turning around, she stared at him pointedly. "Then what, Steven? What do you want to talk about?"

"There's a lot going on inside of me, I'm a broken, hurting, complicated person. If you fall for me, I'm afraid that you will land quite roughly, perhaps enough to break you. I'm not safe, Cerise, I'm not Nathan, but I'm not someone you can fall for either." He walked towards her, then outside of the café as she followed along hesitantly.

"Maybe I don't care."

"Maybe you should."

"Well I don't, Steven." They were now both outside, ankle deep in cold, slushy snow. She reached for his hand, afraid that he would pull back. He kept them out, squeezing his fingers delicately as she wrapped her fingers around his palm. "I like you, for your faults and your attributes. And no, you're not a rebound; you're a good friend that I feel so much more for."

"There's more to my faults then you know." His eyes clouded over, yet he held onto her hand.

"Tell me."

How could Steven possibly explain to her everything that had been going on inside?

He was no longer staring at Cerise.

Julia was now before him, sprinkled with white snow, a delicious grin on her face. Their fingers intertwined while their bodies were on a collision course. There was nothing more he could really do. His words weren't coherent; his mind was awash with a million thoughts.

Julia.

No. It was Cerise.

All he saw was Julia.

"I love you."

And to him, it was Julia he was speaking to through and through.

"I love you too." Their faces came even closer, so that she could feel his warm breath on her cheek. Led by her strong desire, she closed the gap, meeting him with her lips. His warm, plush lips. Inside, her heart stopped.

He wasn't kissing Julia.

No, it was Cerise.

Pulling back, he knew without a doubt that it was Cerise he was staring at.

However, he felt no love for her.

Only the girl far away in his dreams.

The girl he'd betrayed.

"I have to go." Spinning around, praying she'd let him go without an awkward explanation, Steven took off running down the path. Running.

As the storm descended upon him, his heart heavy, his mouth dry, Steven knew that he would have to meet the Keeper tomorrow and figure out all he could. No more secrets, no more lies. He was tired of stumbling through this disaster without any preparation.

It was time for answers.

Chapter Eighteen

___________________

A wave crashed against the massive, 17th century style pirate ship. The mast and sails were being battered by the furious wind and rain. Overhead, the dark, brewing sky shot out bolts of lightning and claps of thunder.

Churned by the bitter, cold winds, the sea came up with towering, white-tipped waves. The vessel kept going up and down the waves, tossing from side to side as it was hammered by the ferocious storm.

On board, a young woman clung to the side of the ship for dear life. Water surged over the side of the ship, swamping the decks with cold, icy seawater. She kept a tight grip on the railing, ducking her head as another wave soared overhead before crashing onto the planks.

"Steven! Hold on!" Julia took a few hesitant steps alongside the ship. Her lover, who had just entered her dreams, was tied up in the netting at the far end of the boat. His eyes were just starting to open, while the water surged over his head.

Steven heard a faint voice as his eyes snapped open. Tied around his body were ropes, which if not for his inability to feel pain in the dreams, would certainly cause him to cry out. Already they were cutting into his skin, wrapping tightly around his limbs.

Squirming in the tangle of ropes, he saw Julia making her way towards him.

Another wave crashed onto the deck, the icy water flooded the ship, dousing him from head to toe. He thrashed at the ropes, trying to keep his head above the water that threatened to submerge him.

Gasping for breath, water poured from his open mouth. "Julia!" He grabbed a rope coming around his neck, trying to loosen its hold. He pulled it over his head, as he slowly freed himself.

Julia quickened her efforts as the sea momentarily relented. "Steven, oh my god, are you alright?" She knelt beside him. She took a rope that was secured tightly around his legs, tearing it off him.

"I'm okay," he got out in-between labored breaths, "is there any shelter?"

"Yes," she pointed away from the stern to the back of the ship, where a door was half open, it had a window illuminated by candlelight. "Let's hurry before it worsens." She said of the storm, putting her hands underneath his arms before dragging him across the deck.

Backing up, her lover in tow, she made her way to the slightly open door. Opening it further, she pulled in Steven, dropping him on the damp floor. She closed the door behind them, while the storm outside said farewell with a booming clap of thunder.

While he could still feel the ship shaking and plunging through the stormy waves, he was happy to be out of the wind and rain. Shimmying his arms, he hastily freed himself from the ropes. With Julia's help, he was out of the mess in minutes, breathing hard and dripping wet.

"Thanks so much! Crazy dream, huh?" He embraced her, holding her cool body close to his. Lovingly running his hands through her hair, he kissed her on the lips but pulled back before she could continue the affection. He didn't deserve to be kissed after his incident with Cerise.

"It really is." Her eyes darkened and she looked around the cabin. At the side, against the wall, she found a chair that had been knocked over.

Picking it up, she placed it upright and took a seat.

On the walls, candlelight flickered from candles held by metal clasps jutting out of the wall. A desk was on one side of the room, littered with papers and maps on its wooden, chipped surface. Seemingly ripped right out from a pirate's movie, all the room was missing was a one eyed pirate captain.

Steven found a sword lying on the ground, picking it up he admired the shiny blade. Before answering he leaned against the wall, delicately wiping the blade clean of water with a handkerchief which had been lying on the floor.

"Julia the hallucinations are getting worse. And sometimes I can hear a voice, even though I'm alone. I want you to tell me why." He sighed at Julia who was no longer smiling. "You're hiding something Julia. I don't know what it is, or why you don't trust me enough to say the truth, but there is something wrong. I'm tired of all these secrets—you said the hallucinations were caused by stress, but it's more than that, isn't it?"

"Why would you think I'm hiding something?" Her eyes drifted to the floorboards, where they stayed.

"Because of the way you're acting." He thought of what his mother's killer, or whatever it was, had said in the dream. Don't trust her. Who else could it mean but Julia? "Because I'm tired of pretending that everything is alright." He thought of the Keeper's urgent, angry words when he told him that he'd been given the dreaming gift. There is still time, he'd said.

Time for what?

Looking at Julia, he put the sword down, bracing himself as the ship rocked violently.

Water poured in from outside, through a crack at the bottom of the door.

Outside the cabin, the wind howled noisily, accompanied by thunder.

"It's been nearly a month hasn't it?" She looked right at him, her turquoise eyes growing dull. "You dream every night?"

"Yes."

"And you see me?"

Steven shifted uncomfortably, wondering if he should tell her the truth of the matter. Only, he was distracted by how pale Julia's face had become. Growing paler. For a minute, neither of them spoke.

When she did open her mouth, only a sob came out. Her body began to tremble as tears poured down her face. Cries echoed loudly in the cabin, as she clenched her fists. Her mouth was open in a blood-curdling cry before she fell to the floor, weeping unashamedly.

Steven was too surprised to move.

He only stared at Julia, his mouth agape. "What's wrong? Julia!" He took two steps towards her, kneeling at her side. Wrapping her in his arms, he was surprised when she pushed him off her. "Julia!" He fell on the wooden planks, gawking as Julia got to her feet, her face twisted in anguish.

"What's wrong? I've killed you, Steven! That's what! I've stolen your life! I'm a monster!" She was heaving, her eyes red and swollen. "You don't even know what I'm talking about! I lied! I thought maybe... but no! I should've known better, I just thought," she took a seat, her eyes wide and lost, "thought that I could stop it from happening. But I can't."

Steven scrambled to his feet, perplexed at the sudden, harrowing change in Julia. Confused by her words, he went back to the wall, trying to stay upright as the storm continued to wreak havoc on them. "I don't understand."

"No, of course you don't." Glowering at him, she took a shaky step forward. "I lied to you, Steven. I fucking lied!" She kicked a burnt-out candle that had fallen on the ground. Swearing, she collapsed back on the chair, her mouth twisted in a tormented frown. "These dreams aren't a gift, Steven. They're a curse. My curse. I thought I could overcome them, that their ability to ruin lives would end with Markus."

"Markus?"

"You weren't the first one to enter my dreams, Steven." She threw her head back against the chair, screaming at the ceiling. "I just want to die! Damn it! I just want to die!" She snapped her head back down, glaring at Steven with untold, poignant rage. "I always suspected, always feared that it would happen again—but I couldn't know for sure. I hoped that things had changed."

Steven felt his stomach roll with nausea, both from the ship's movement and Julia's words. He picked up the sword, his hands trembling. "Who is Markus?"

She paused, pursing her lips. "His name was Markus Anderson," smacking her lips, she chuckled sardonically. "My first victim." She stared at the sword in his hand, "Just kill me, Steven. I don't deserve to live, not after what I've done to you. Run me through."

Dropping the sword, he shook his head. "Julia. Please, I love you, no matter what you did. Please, just tell me what's going on." His heart was pounding violently in his chest. Blinking, he awaited whatever she would unfold to him.

She took in a deep breath, her frail form still trembling. "When my father gave me up for adoption, I was only given a single letter from him, he told me to open it on my eighth birthday. It was an explanation." Her tone was still vicious, and she covered her face with her hands. "I'm a Dreamer, Steven."

Steven swallowed nervously, unsure of where she was going with this.

"I was told to never fall in love. My father warned me that if I was to kiss someone, and truly love them, that this gift would be transferred to them. Only, because you're not like me, you couldn't handle it. I'm not human, Steven, I'm something much more... or less. We create with our minds entire worlds that we can inhabit. Dreams are so much more then you know.

"But they are also cruel, crippling. For though us Dreamers can dream, others cannot. Eventually, usually in a short period of time, whoever is given this curse and is not a Dreamer, will succumb to it. At first, though, I didn't believe it to be true.

"His name was Markus Anderson. My best friend. I loved him. We did kiss, though my father's letter warned against. But I mean, how was I to know? I'm the only other dream I've met, I thought that my father was wrong." She stared up at Steven, her eyes wide and lips trembling.

Steven recalled how powerful the hallucinations had been. Frowning, he folded his arms over his chest, suddenly feeling chilled. "What happened to Markus?"

Julia paused, her face darkening. "He disappeared. After the hallucinations got really bad, one day, he simply wasn't there anymore. All I found of him were his clothes, but he himself was gone. I've never heard from him since, I can only imagine that my father was right. He's in the place where all humans end up after dreaming: the Oceans."

"But why didn't you tell me?" He held back a torrent of rage, biting his tongue from saying anymore.

"Because I didn't see the point in it. I thought perhaps if I never brought it up, it would never happen. We would just dream together, falling more and more in love. After Markus, I swore I'd never fall in love again. But there was something about you, Steven. Something that drew me to you, I wanted to fall in love with you, so I did. I thought that it would be different this time."

"But it's not."

"No." She got up, her frail body still quaking. Peeking at him with her turquoise eyes, she wrapped her arms over her chest. Sighing, she stood before him, waiting for whatever he would do to her. "Words will never make up for what I did to you."

Steven only stared at her, then at the floor. His eyes closed, and his frayed mind tried to comprehend the horror—the truth that Julia had shared with him.

"In the text? Yes, I was going to tell you then, but I slipped into the coma before I could. Even though I wasn't sure at the moment, I still feared it would happen. I want you to know how sorry I am. How much I hate myself for loving you."

Steven braced himself as another wave crashed against the ship, sending Julia falling to the floorboards. Reaching down, he offered her a hand, to which she took with a grimace. Her red, swollen eyes shut as she let go of his hand, falling back to the floor. "Leave me, Steven."

He was tempted to.

Although he was far from accepting his fate, if Julia was indeed right, she'd killed him.

"No." Again, he held out his hand, frowning as she grabbed it tentatively. "I love you Julia. I made a promise damn it. A promise to always love you. I will beat these dreams, I will overcome these hallucinations." He gripped her hand securely. "I love you Julia, I will fight off these dreams and I will find you."

Once they were both on their feet, he reached for the door, wrapping his hand around the knob. "When I wake up, I'll go to Alberta and I will find you. No matter what, I'm not going to be overcome. I love you too much." Although he was still deeply afraid of what she'd told him, he decided that he wouldn't care.

He'd lost his mother, was losing his father, and he sure as hell wasn't about to lose Julia. The only mistake she'd made was following her heart; he would make sure it wasn't all for nothing.

Kissing her on the lips, he wrapped her in his arms. "I'll find you, Julia."

"What if you don't like what you find?" Julia kissed him on the lips, staring deep into his eyes with a sorrowful smile. "What if you can't stop the dreams from overtaking you?"

"They won't." He let her go, opening the door. Stepping out onto the deck, he made his way on wobbly legs to the stern. Behind him, Julia stood in the doorway, watching her lover with sad, dull eyes.

"But what if they do anyways," she whispered to herself. Sighing, she stared at the darkening storm, watching a certain wave glide towards the starboard side of the ship.

Steven, who was right in the middle of the deck, his hand on the base of the mast, took the full brunt of the wave. While there was no pain, he still felt his breath leave him as he was tossed like a rag doll in the vicious wave.

He smashed against the railing of the ship, before going over it with the torrent of water. Headfirst he dove into the icy, restless waters. All he could feel was the freezing water pouring into his mouth and enveloping his body as a nasty current kept him under the surface.

Opening his eyes, he expected to see nothing but inky blackness. Instead, he saw a pulsating, glowing ball of light below him. Drawn to the light as a moth is drawn to the flame, he stopped fighting the current and let it take him further into the depths.

As the water grew warmer and the light brighter, a dark, colorless hand reached out for his ankle. Forcefully it wrapped around his foot, slowly crushing it in its tight, merciless grip. Another hand grabbed his other foot, which he tried to kick around wildly before it was subdued.

Now more than the current was dragging him down into the depths.

His lungs yearned for oxygen.

He finally opened his mouth, letting loose a scream. Water flowed into his lungs, flooding his body with icy liquid. More hands reached out from the depths, taking him deeper into the bright, warm depths of the ocean.

"Many have called this place 'home'," a familiar voice said in a frustrated tone. "It looks like you will as well."

Chapter Nineteen

____________________

Steven was left suspended in the bright, warm waters of the ocean. His eyes closed, while bubbles came out of his mouth as his body filled with water. Several fish, multi colored and swimming quickly, darted past his drifting body.

The hands that had dragged him down began to recede into nothingness.

All that remained was a solitary figure, dressed in a ripped hoodie and jeans, standing in front of a glowing ball of light. The figure, his arms folded over his chest, glanced behind him at the light.

Its luminescence filled the ocean water with warm, delicious yellow light. Fish, attracted to the strange, peculiar glow, swam around it. One of them swam inside it, disappearing completely in a flash of radiance.

Steven, who was drifting to the sandy shore, opened his eyes. Slowly, his foot grazed the sandy ocean floor before he came to a stop.

The figure took the hood he was wearing, ripping it off as though it were made of paper.

He could hear whispering, growing louder, repeating his name.

It was the disfigured monster from the dreams—the one who had shot him.

Steven stared at the monstrosity, feeling a mixture of rage and disbelief. Certainly this man wasn't the same one who had gunned down his mother, was he? Whoever he or it was, Steven still felt anger for what it was or represented: his mother's killer.

"Who are you?" Instead of his words coming out gurgled and warped, they sounded clear as day. From the flying trains, to the flying, hot air balloons in space, it was clear these dreams followed a law of physics quite different from reality.

He should be a water logged corpse.

Staring at the figure, his attention was momentarily taken away by the glowing, round ball of light. It lazily drifted up above the figure, basking them all in its radiance. He was drawn to it, smiling at its eerie, calming glow.

"I don't matter, Steven." He shuffled over to Steven, his steps slow and careful.

Warily, Steven held his ground.

"Then why don't you leave me—" Before Steven could finish his sentence, his hand was grabbed by the monster. With bony, skeletal hands, he clamped onto Steven's wrists, his decaying, putrid face moving closer to Steven.

Steven turned his face away, his veins coursing with fear.

The whispering was now a harsh, guttural screaming.

"Close your eyes Steven, there are some things you have to learn about your friend." Instead of attacking him, the rotting figure simply clamped down on Steven's wrists.

Around them, the water thinned out, and disappeared. There was no more rotting figure or glowing ball of light. Instead, Steven could still hear the whispering and could feel the bony fingers wrapped tightly around his wrists.

Looking around, Steven saw that he was no longer in his body.

He was nothing but thin air, floating in a room that wasn't his own. Beside him, he could feel, instead of see the rotting figure. His voice, just like the whispering, seemed to originate from inside his soul.

"I want you to simply watch, Steven. For the short time I have, I will show you what happened to a man called Nicholas West." The rotting figure's voice said, encompassing Steven's mind. "Watch carefully Steven, for our time is short."

Nicholas West sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the beautiful young woman beside him. He took another sip of wine, relishing the taste in his mouth and the warmth it gave him. He wiped a piece of blonde hair from his eyes, leaning in closer to the young woman.

"You seem different today, Nicholas." The young woman took a sip of her own wine, folding her legs over one another. "I haven't seen you this happy in a long time."

"You've given me a reason to be happy, Brianne." He swept back her black hair, drawing closer to her. "I love you."

"You're crazy to love me."

Nicholas paused for a brief moment, his eyes darkening. She had no idea just how true that statement was. Turning away, he set his glass of wine on the table at the foot of his bed. "Maybe crazy is just the thing we need."

"But why would you love me? Really, Nicholas. Look at me." She too set her glass of wine down, her dark brown eyes widening. "I have nothing to offer you—nothing. Your parents hate me, and every time we're together, you can barely touch me."

Nicholas put an arm around her shoulder, his head cocked. "That's because I was afraid to love you, Brianne. Terrified." With his other hand, he held onto hers, massaging the back of her hand with his thumb. "I'm not scared anymore—I love you, Brianne. To hell with the consequences, I want to be with you."

Brianne smiled softly. "You want to take that risk with me?"

Nicholas knew it wasn't him who was taking much of a risk.

"I love you, Brianne." He let go of her hand, cupping her chin instead. "No risk is too great." He put his face to hers, kissing her on the lips. Passionately—with every ounce of his being, he kissed her. She kissed him back, pushing him teasingly onto his back.

"I love you too Nicholas."

"We have been far too long brothers and sisters, cast aside! Scorned! Mocked! Hated!" A tall, well-dressed man stood up on a chair. Raising his fist in the air, already a little tipsy, he continued his tirade. "For decades we have kept our abilities a secret! Hiding ourselves from those weak, blind bastards! Those who cannot dream! We put them ahead of us, treating them as if they were superior! Ha! It is time for us to rise up! Follow Munroe Adams, and show the world that we are to be feared!"

Nicholas sat at the back of the room, sitting on a chair of his own. Several others, good friends of Nicholas, also sat, whispering and laughing amongst themselves.

"Drunk idiot," Carter Daniels gestured at the man giving an uproarious speech. "I think he calls these meetings just to do this. Trying to rally the troops? What troops? We're just like everyone else."

"Aye, but we can dream!" Spoke up one of Nicholas' longtime friends. With a smirk, he tossed back a drink of his own. Setting the glass on the table, he looked right at Carter. "Maybe we'll just kiss 'em all and have them go into the Oceans."

"Now there's a plan I can get behind!" Carter grinned, winking at Nicholas. "We already know who Nicholas would start with."

Nicholas shook his head, trying to force an amiable grin. "I wouldn't do that."

"Well if you don't, I will." Carter retorted, leaning back in his chair. He saw the dark look in Nicholas' eyes and gave him a light punch on the shoulder. "I didn't mean nothing by it, sorry."

"Don't worry about it." Nicholas didn't force a smile this time when he stared at Carter. Punching him back lightly, he changed the subject. "So Thomas. You've finally saved up for that ring for Melissa, I heard?"

Thomas Newman, who'd jokingly suggested they 'kiss the non-dreamers' gave his head a nod. There was a sparkle in his eye as he reached into his jacket pocket, retrieving a black, felt box. "Took me a while to save up, but it was worth it." He took the lid off the box, revealing a bright shimmering ring.

Carter whistled, eyeing the ring with a smile. "Well I guess you can say goodbye to that new car." He gave his friend a pat on the back, after the joke fell flat on its face. "It's quite the rock, she'll love it."

All Nicholas could think about when he saw the ring was Brianne.

The human he'd chosen to love.

Inside, his heart was saturated with grief and guilt, so much so that not even a night of drinking with his fellow Dreamers could take his mind off the pain. Sooner or later, he would have to tell Brianne the truth about the dreams and that they weren't meant for humans.

What had he been thinking? There were plenty of young, beautiful Dreamers out there who would easily have fallen in love with him. Instead, he'd gone after the beautiful girl who'd he run into at the coffee shop near his house. He'd been drawn to her gorgeous, deep brown eyes.

And now that same girl was doomed to going into the Oceans.

He stared up at the man standing on the chair, listening to his words with a growing sense of anger. Had this man ever been with a human? Spoken with a human? Munroe Adams, the man who had originally gathered all the Dreamers nearly a century ago, was a fool.

"As Munroe said: "We are Dreamers! We can create entire worlds with our minds! We are stronger! We are perfect. We are the better race. It is time, I think; we let the rest of the world know this!" A great cry was raised in the bar, as Dreamers raised their glasses, chanting supremacy.

Standing up, Nicholas couldn't stand to listen to another minute of the man's drunken babbling. He pushed through the large crowd of people, ignoring their comments or greetings as he passed by them all.

Once he was outside, surrounded by the crisp, snow-filled January air, he heard a voice from behind him. Turning around, he was glad to see that it was Thomas, and not Carter or one of his many drunk, foolish friends.

Only Thomas had any idea what Nicholas truly thought.

"Why don't you come back inside, Nicholas? Someone finally got Gerald to shut up." Thomas leaned on the doorway to the tavern, his kind eyes meeting Nicholas' dark, brooding stare. "What's on your mind, Nicholas?"

Nicholas thought back to Brianne, his dying young lover. The human he'd fallen in love with, though it was forbidden. How foolish had he been? How selfish had he been?

"I'm just feeling tired, Thomas."

"Are you though? I've seen that look in your eyes before, Nicholas." He folded his arms over his chest, staring at him expectantly. "What's going on?"

"If I wanted you to know, I'd tell you."

"No, I don't think so." Thomas stepped forward. "I think you're too scared to tell me, but you most certainly want to. I'm your best friend, Nicholas. Practically your brother—you can tell me anything. I won't condemn or judge you."

"Yes you will." Nicholas smiled grimly, taking a step away from. "Because what I've done is too terrible for forgiveness. There's nothing you can do to stop it either. Telling you won't change a damn thing."

Those words brought Thomas to an uneasy halt. "What happened?"

"Leave it alone." Nicholas turned his back on his friend, brushing the snow from his hair. "You have yourself a good night, Thomas."

Thomas finally listened to his friend's warnings and didn't follow him. Instead he wished Nicholas a good night, turned around, and went back inside the tavern.

Nicholas continued to walk down the lonely street, back to his house where Brianne was likely asleep.

A tear rolled down his face as he thought of the few days that remained for his lover until she could no longer control the dreams. When she'd disappear into the Oceans.

Clenching his fists, he swore loudly into the night sky.

"Come on Brianne," Nicholas spoke soothingly to his lover as he helped her inside their bedroom. "Stay with me, come on, stay with me!"

She could barely stand on her own two feet. Though he supported her all the way from the restaurant to their home, she was only growing weaker. When she spoke, he knew that her words weren't meant for him. Her incoherent babblings and shrieks of fear were for whatever hallucinations were assaulting her senses.

"Damn it! Stay with me!" Nicholas, sweat pouring down his face, picked up Brianne as the last of her strength was sapped. Holding her in his arms, he carried her a few steps to their bed and put her down gently. Wiping his brow, he sat down on the edge of the bed, staring at her with wide eyes.

He put his hand on her stomach, caressing it gently. Beneath his hand, growing inside Brianne's womb was his child. It was too early to feel the kicks or even notice the bump. They only knew she was pregnant from a white instrument they had bought from the nearby drugstore.

Nicholas prayed it was wrong.

"You have to live, Brianne. Come on! Stay awake!" Her eyes shut. "Wake up!" He leaned over her, breathing heavily. With a pained expression he watched her chest rise and fall at a slower pace. "I'm going to stop this from happening."

He stood up, his eyes never wavering from Brianne. "I'm going to save you!"

She made no reply.

Holding back enraged tears, he threw the door open and marched into the washroom. He turned on the faucet and cupped his hands to gather the water. Splashing his face with water, he took a deep breath and dried off his face. The man in his reflection lost his sweat, but held onto his glare and his hopeless frown.

"Come on!" He hissed at his reflection, "Get it together! Be strong for her! Come on!" With a white knuckle grip he held onto the counter, staring at the mirror until the man in it lost his despaired expression.

His frown was replaced by a subtle smile.

It would have to do.

Stepping quietly back into their bedroom, he saw that Brianne was no longer on their bed. "Brianne?" His heart flew a little higher as he imagined that she'd woken up and was walking around. That meant that he still had time. She wasn't going into the Oceans yet.

Then he saw that her sweat-drenched clothing was lying on the bed, as though her body had evaporated.

"Brianne?"

She was gone.

"Dreamers are an abomination to humanity, a disease." Alexander Ryans voice played through the headphones Nicholas had put over his ears. "You and I, dear listener, are the reason they suffer. We are just like them—no different. But we are cursed."

Nicholas stepped through the snow to the front doors of the crowded bar.

A neon sign reading, "Garage" hung over the entrance.

Only one bouncer stood guard, smiling politely at Nicholas.

"They're all inside," the bouncer said, holding the door open. "What is that?"

He was staring at the can of gasoline that Nicholas held at his side. "My own brew. They're all inside?"

The bouncer hesitated, and then nodded his head. "Yes."

"Good."

As he walked into the tavern, jam-packed with Dreamers, all he could hear were the words of Alexander Ryans. There was a time when he had believed, along with the rest that Ryans was a radical monster. A madman.

"We are cursed, I say! Cursed with this ability to dream, to trap humans in what we've called the Oceans. I prefer the name hell. How can we continue to delude ourselves with this belief that we are superior? We are not!" Alexander Ryans' voice blared into Nicholas' ear, as it had been doing so for the past two weeks.

He saw his friends at one end of the bar, gathered at a table and talking loudly. None of them noticed their friend going to the corner of the bar, mostly out of sight and pouring gasoline on the carpet. Slowly, discreetly, he moved closer to the only other door in the establishment, pouring the rest of the can's contents in front of the door.

And then he took a lighter from his pocket.

"We are cursed; I will say it over and over again until they believe us! There is only one cure! There is only one action that must be carried out to save those we've lost in the damned Oceans."

Stooping to the ground, his fingers trembling, he tried to ignite the lighter.

Nothing.

Turning his head around, he saw that no one had taken notice of him yet. Again, with trembling fingers he ignited the lighter. This time it sparked.

On the third attempt, the lighter caught.

A small, dangerous flame spewed out of the lighter. It danced on the end of the lighter, only a few inches from the gasoline soaked carpet.

In his ears, he could hear Alexander Ryan's cries. "We must kill all those who dream. Even those we love. There is only one way to free those who are trapped in the Oceans. It must be done. We have lived too long as monsters—it is time to stop this disease from spreading. We must kill them all."

Nicholas thought of Brianne, struggling in the Oceans, forever lost in its cool depths.

He thought of his child, trapped within her, charged with a crime they hadn't committed.

He dropped the lighter on the ground.

Stepping back, he saw the flames spread viciously over the gasoline-soaked carpet. Smoke rose into the air, as those in the bar turned around to gape at the ensuing inferno. None of them took notice of Nicholas, stepping between them all, his head lowered.

When he was out of the bar, he turned around almost mechanically.

In his head, he'd rehearsed this part of the plan over and over again. He had no idea that it would be so difficult to reach behind him, to where his gun was. He had no idea how hard he would be shaking from the fear coursing in his veins.

Only thoughts of Brianne kept his hand on the pistol.

His rage kept his feet firmly planted in the snow.

A bead of sweat ran past his unblinking eyes and down his pale face.

His frown was the only part of him that wasn't shaking.

Alexander Ryan's sermon replayed in Nicholas' ear, looping over and over again.

The first patron stumbled out of the bar, coughing into his arm. He took a few wobbly steps out into the cold air, before looking up at Nicholas. "There's a fire—" A single gunshot silenced him. The Dreamer was thrown back by the bullet, which entered his abdomen.

Nicholas shot him again.

This time the man fell on his back, just as several others ran out of the bar.

Again, Nicholas fired at his fellow Dreamers, grimacing as they all fell on the bloodied snow outside the bar. Those who groaned or moved received one or two more shots from Nicholas' pistol. None of this mattered if even a single one of them survived.

Choking back tears, Nicholas tried not to stare at the mass of bodies piling up outside of the bar. Instead, he pictured Brianne, struggling in the Oceans, drowning. Eternally. And the only way to save her was to kill every single one of the Dreamers.

By now, most of the Dreamers had focused their attention on putting out the fire, instead of escaping. Nicholas could see them through the windows and open door, trying to stomp out the fire. However their efforts were in vain. The fire spread up the wall and to the ceiling while thick, black smoke filled the establishment.

He saw several of them duck under the smoke, crawling to the bar's door.

They shouted at him, cursed him, and begged him to stop this insanity. Or so Nicholas imagined they were saying when they opened their mouths. All he could hear was Alexander's charge.

Reload.

Aim.

Shoot.

Aim.

Shoot.

Shoot.

Aim.

Shoot.

Shoot.

Aim.

Shoot.

Reload.

He could hear several of them pounding on the glass windows, trying to break out of the homemade furnace. He wished they would leave the bar and face a quicker death than by fire. The night before he'd thought of the different ways of dispatching his former comrades—this was a ruthless plan, but the only one that would work entirely.

They would all have to die or it was pointless.

Even he would have to die when he was sure that all of the Dreamers were killed.

Stumbling out of the doorway, smoke coming off his clothes, Nicholas saw that it was Thomas.

His finger moved away from the trigger.

Lowering his pistol, he took a few steps forwards, wincing from the heat surging towards him. "Thomas! Thomas get out of there!" He put up his arm, protecting his face from the waves of heat.

His dear friend tripped over the pile of bodies, collapsing on the red snow.

Nicholas stood over him, his gun in his limp grip.

Thomas looked up, smoke rising off his clothes and skin. Groaning, he stretched out his arms, his fingers touching Nicholas' shoes. His fingers tightened around his shoes, and he jerked his foot to the side.

Nicholas was surprised by the move and quickly found himself sprawled on the snowy ground. The gun fell from his hand, landing on the snow near Thomas.

Thomas roared in pain, stretching out his arm and grabbing the pistol. Stumbling to his feet, he towered over Nicholas, pointing the pistol at his chest. Breathing heavily, he towered over Nicholas, a tortured expression on his face.

Nicholas removed the headphones, staring up at his friend with wide eyes. "Put down the gun, Thomas. I can explain."

"You killed them, Nicholas! You killed them!" His frown deepened, while his nostrils flared.

"I had to, Thomas." He propped himself up on his elbows, keeping his eyes trained on the gun. There would be no convincing his dear friend with lies—he would have to tell him the truth. "I fell in love with Brianne, Thomas. I kissed her! I made love to her. I killed her. She's in the Oceans now. And it's my fault. It's our fault. The only way to free her is to do as Alexander Ryans says."

Thomas only shook his head in reply, his gun lowered. "You would kill us all for her?" He took a step back, his face paling. "Alexander Ryans was a madman, Nicholas. A madman! He would have us all killed because of his delusions! How can you believe him?"

"I have to." Nicholas thought of his innocent child. He thought of Brianne. "If you're going to kill me, then finish what I've started. Kill us all, Thomas."

Thomas glanced behind him at the burning tavern. The bodies piled up at the front were beginning to catch fire. "These people were innocent, Nicholas."

"Those aren't people. We aren't people. Were monsters, Thomas." He started to get to his feet, his eyes remaining on the gun at Thomas' side.

"They had families, Nicholas. I have a family." Raising his gun, he aimed it at Nicholas. "Would you kill them as well? Would you kill my children? My wife?"

"I would do what has to be done to save my family."

Thomas swallowed nervously, his eyes brimming with tears. "Then you understand why I have to do this." With a shaky finger he pulled the trigger. The gun went off noisily. Nicholas let out a cry of pain, holding his abdomen. Wheezing, he fell on his knees and collapsed on the ground.

Thomas walked back to the bar, tossing the pistol through the open, burning doorway.

In a rush of noise and color, Steven found himself back underwater.

The dizzying, encompassing flashbacks faded into memory.

"Nicholas West would later become the so-called Keeper of Dreams." The living corpse, who'd shown Steven the flashbacks, let go of his hand. "He would survive the gunshot, he would evade police capture, and he would kill many more Dreamers. He's bent on killing them all, Steven. He's dangerous. A monster. And he's still motivated."

"Why are you telling me all of this?"

"Just be careful." There was a momentary blip in the monster's voice. For a second, he sounded like a young, frightened youth. "He can't be trusted."

"But can you?"

The corpse only turned away, making no response.

Steven blinked, and in that millisecond of time, he was transported back to his bed.

Awake.

Chapter Twenty

_________________

Steven stood on his balcony, donning a warm jacket, but only loose-fitting boxers sheltered his legs from the frigid air. Wrapping his arms around himself, his breath came out in wispy vapors. Ice built up on his eyebrows and damp hair. Steam rose off his body, which was still dripping wet from his hot shower.

Life, as he knew it, was coming to an end.

A part of him wished that the chilly, snow-filled air would bring about his demise. Hypothermia would settle over him like a blanket of ice, slowly stealing away his life.

Another part of him urged his body to escape the freezing cold. To get inside, warm up, get dressed, get ready for school, and face life as he always had. Keep fighting. No matter that everything he'd come to depend on was failing him, he couldn't give up.

Julia.

He could go to Alberta. He could find a way to reverse the effects of the dreams. The Keeper of the Dreams would know—he couldn't believe what that living corpse had told him. The Keeper of Dreams had saved Steven, even when he thought he was a Dreamer. If the man wanted him dead, then why hadn't he killed him yet? Steven had to conclude that the living corpse, or whatever he was, was a liar.

The Keeper of the Dreams could help him—that was the only choice he had. He was all he had left. There was no one else who knew about the dreams. Or perhaps if he saw Julia again, he could reverse the effects—give her back the dreaming curse.

If that was possible.

Steven stared out at the snowstorm that had fallen over the entire city. His hand trembled.

He thought back to twenty minutes earlier, when he'd woken up and gone to the washroom. He'd entered the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind him. Beside him, a mirror was fastened to the wall, hiding a small cubby where combs and toothbrushes were held.

Ignoring the mirror, he opened a cabinet beside the shower stall, taking out two towels. One he threw on the floor, so that he could step on it when he was dripping wet, the other he hung nearby the shower stall to later dry himself off.

Ten minutes later, soaking wet, he stepped out of the shower.

His eyes finally landed on the mirror, which was covered in steam. Beneath the layer of steam, he could vaguely see the bathroom reflected in it.

Something was missing though.

Grabbing his towel, he dried off his hair and face, before wrapping it around his waist. His curiosity piqued by the mirror, he put his hand on it and wiped away some of the condensation before letting out a scream.

"No, no, no!" He ripped off his towel, drying more of the shiny surface off. Taking back his towel, his jaw dropped open. The towel fell to the floor, landing in a pile near the water that was dripping off Steven's trembling body.

He put his hand to his face, rubbing it slightly. "This is impossible, this cannot be, no. What is happening?" He put his face up against the mirror, hoping that all would be right.

Only, when he gaped at the mirror, he was still missing from it.

His reflection was gone.

The mirror showed perfectly the entire washroom before the steam began to cloud its surface once more. However, his entire body was cut out of the reflection—as if he were invisible.

A quick glance down confirmed that he was still there.

Julia had warned him this would happen—it would be a sign that the dreams were truly taking over. He was making the transition from reality to the Oceans. For good. She said once he went to this "Oceans" there would be no waking up.

Ten minutes after that discovery, standing on his balcony, Steven knew that he would have to find the Keeper. He would go to Alberta; he would find Julia.

Steven went back into his room to get fully dressed.

Downstairs he joined his grandparents at the kitchen table for a breakfast of scrambled eggs and toast. He gave his grandma a short hug, sat down at the table and thanked his grandpa for making breakfast. They told him that school had been closed for the day, while a heavy snowstorm from Colorado shut down the city.

"Thanks again for breakfast," he scooped up the last of his scrambled eggs and chewed them quickly. He backed up his chair, took his plate to the sink and rinsed it off. "I'm going to grab a coffee at Timmies; do you want me to bring something back?"

"In this weather?" His grandma gave him a scolding look.

"It's a five minute walk, I'll be fine." Steven chuckled.

"Okay dear, just be careful."

Steven put his plate in the sink and went to the front door. He put his parka back on. Sliding his feet into boots, he donned mittens and stepped through the door. He was greeted by the blowing, frigid wind. Securing his toque over his dark hair, he marched into the chaos of a prairie blizzard.

The Keeper had said that he would meet him on Thursday.

He made his way down the road, going against the strong, persistent wind. All he could see from under his toque was white. The falling snow had utterly decimated visibility.

In his jeans pocket he could feel his phone vibrating.

He took out the little device, seeing that the text was from Cerise. He also saw that it was one of many texts she'd sent him all throughout the night. Sighing he saw that they were all basically asking him why he'd left her at the park. Some of them carried with them sadness, others hurt, others anger. Her last text read like this, "Sorry for all the texts, but I just want to know what happened last night".

Unfortunately, Steven had no answer for her.

He put his phone back in his pocket.

Although he'd hoped that the Keeper would meet him at the Tim Horton's, he wasn't too surprised when he heard his voice from behind.

"Steven." From behind he could hear his footfalls on the icy road.

He faced the enigmatic man, glad that his scarf obscured his frightened expression from him. He didn't want him to know just how terrified he was. "Hi." He said lamely, unable to voice all that he wanted to know of the man. "So you wanted to talk with me?"

"That's why I'm here."

Steven saw that the Keeper had a fresh bruise under his right eye. Although he was dressed in ragged clothes, the man neither shook nor shivered from the cold air.

"Should we go to Tim Horton's down the road? It's warmer there." And safer, but Steven wisely left that reason out.

"I think out here is just fine. No one will bother us. Complete privacy."

"What if a car comes?"

"Then we'll move." The Keeper took another step closer to Steven, his sharp blue eyes studying his face. "Something on your mind, Steven?"

"I'm just cold." Although he was shivering, it wasn't from the raging blizzard.

"You'll get used to it."

Steven took a subtle step backwards, while he wrapped his scarf tighter around his face. His heart pounded away in his chest, as he searched for the right words to say. "So why did you want to talk to me?"

"I've been busy these past weeks. After what you told me—you gave me a lot to think about. Now I need to know something, Steven. Where did you meet Julia?"

"Julia?"

"Yes, the girl who gave you the dreams."

Steven thought back to what he'd seen in his dreams the previous night. He could see in his mind's eye the Keeper shooting down all the Dreamers that tried to escape the bar. His ruthlessness—his rage. The living corpse had warned him to be careful, that he would want to kill every single Dreamer.

The Keeper smiled, "Please tell me."

"I can't."

The Keeper's face deadpanned. He stared down the road, then back at Steven. "Why don't we go down to Tim Horton's? I am getting a little cold. I'm sure it would be much more comfortable talking in there, right?"

Steven glanced the other way, back at his house. "I'm not going to tell you anything about Julia."

"Well there is still much more I want to discuss, then." The Keeper put his arm around Steven's shoulder, leading him down the road.

"No," Steven shrugged his arm off him, taking several steps to the side. "You can stop lying to me, Nicholas. I know exactly who you are. And I swear to you, I will kill you if you touch Julia!" Breathing hard, he considered running away before the man did anything.

The Keeper only smiled. "Who has told you these things? I only want the best for you, Steven. To protect you. If I find Julia, I can save you."

"From the Oceans?"

"She told you, didn't she?" The Keeper sighed, "So you know what she's done to you. It's a travesty, Steven. How one could be so selfish." His eyes darkened. "Now tell me where she is and I can save you."

"I won't." Steven swallowed nervously. "Why would you want to save me anyways? I'm nothing like you. I'm not a Dreamer."

"And for that, be glad." The Keeper breathed a heavy sigh. "I want to save you Steven, because I am the Keeper of the Dreams. I am one of the few who remain. While I was once Nicholas West—I am now something much more. I'm the cure. I'm the only way, Steven that you're going to survive this dreaming curse. To save everyone who has been cursed. I am the Keeper—and I will see that I die that way."

Steven shook his head, more afraid of his own thoughts then the Keeper. What if the only way to save himself was to kill them all? Could he really do that? Could he really kill Julia to save himself? The answers in his head terrified him. "I won't tell you where she is."

"Then you will die, Steven." There was something almost akin to worry in the Keeper's eyes. "And for what? Julia. She betrayed you, Steven. She lied to you. She used you. How could you love someone like that? Steven, you know that she must die. Not just for you, but for all those who are trapped in the Oceans. Why protect her?"

"Because I love her. Nothing changes that." Steven looked back at his house. He could make a run for it.

"She doesn't love you back."

"Maybe."

"Maybe? How can she? She used you, Steven! Damn it, she used you! If you stopped and thought for just a moment, you would see that she only loves herself."

"And maybe you're right, Nicholas. Maybe you are. It doesn't change the fact that I love, Julia. I will find another way to save myself. But I will not help you kill her!" Steven saw the headlights of a car down the road.

"You will tell me where she is now!" The Keeper was beginning to lose his calm exterior. He stepped forward, reaching into his pocket. "I've not come this far to be stopped by you." His face was flushed, while sweat beaded and froze on his face.

Steven could hear the car speeding down the icy road. He heard it change lanes to avoid them. "Actually. You are." Steven pushed the Keeper with all of his strength. The man's foot was on ice, so he slid a few feet back.

Then the front of the car smashed into his legs, sending the man flying down the road.

Steven didn't stop to watch what happened next.

Instead, he ran down the road, his heart racing in his chest. Had he really just killed the man? He resisted the urge to turn around and check. He faced ahead, sprinting down the road, hoping that the car had hit the man hard enough to send him to a hospital.

When he went to Alberta the next morning, he couldn't be followed by the Keeper.

Chapter Twenty One

______________________

"People, who love the strongest, tend to have the most breakable of hearts." Drake had said once, his plain eyes strangely inviting. Taking her hand, he squeezed it tightly. "Just be careful about whom you trust to hold your heart—most will drop it. The trick is finding the one who doesn't know how to."

He'd said that to her on the night she found out Nathan had cheated on her. Twice.

Cerise thought back on those words as she got into bed. Slipping under the covers, wearing pajamas and her hair loose, she turned off the light.

Staring up at the ceiling, moments before sleep took her, she could think of one person only.

Steven.

He had kissed her back. Passionately, warmly, not out of an obligation, but because he truly liked her back. She'd only been kissed that way once in her lifetime.

He'd also told her that he loved her. It was spoken so genuinely, it stole her breath away. When he'd left her five years ago, she'd been sure that he would only remember her as a childhood crush—nothing more. Had he truly loved her all along?

Why was he ignoring her then? Why had he left so abruptly after their kiss? She feared and suspected that perhaps he might love someone else, as well as her. If that was the case, she hoped that he would choose her. She wouldn't want to share Steven.

Still, she was sure this was one relationship that would last—how could it not? They'd been friends for so long, completely compatible and comfortable with one another. She knew his secrets, he knew hers. They were both crazy about one another, at least if that lovelorn glint in his eye wasn't just born of her own imagination.

And he'd kissed her.

She thought of that amazing kiss. How his hand had raced down her back, pulling her body closer to hers.

"Just be careful about who you trust to hold your heart." She mumbled Drake's words, a grin on her face. This time, unlike with Nathan, she was completely sure about giving her heart to Steven.

Closing her eyes, she faded away from consciousness.

Only, seconds later, she opened them again.

"Where am I?" Cerise could feel loose, pointy pebbles and stone underneath her body. Sitting up, she brushed some of the dirt and stones from her pajamas.

Her mouth fell open as she realized that she wasn't on her bed or even in her room at all.

A gust of warm air hit her as she got to her feet, staring around at her new, strange surroundings. A couple of stray leaves rattled down the dirt path, bumping and tumbling in the strong gale.

"Hello?"

The trail that she was on was surrounded on either side by tall, towering trees. Instead of how they should've been in the fall, these trees were alive and bursting with green, rich leaves. In-between the trees, she saw a few log cabins, most of them with porches surrounding the front doors, where towels and bathing suits were left to dry.

Though she couldn't see anyone, excited, loud voices carried through the wind from down the trail.

Then she saw two teenagers, probably around her age, walking towards her from way down the trail. One of them was a boy, the other a girl, though any other details were too hard to make out from such a distance.

"What is going on," she pondered aloud, cautiously stepping towards the oncoming teenagers. Her heart beat rapidly, she stole down the path, hoping to get some answers as to how she ended up here.

"Hey! Hey, can you help me!" She called out to the couple walking towards her, but neither of them even looked her way. Instead, as they came closer, she noticed that their hands were intertwined. The boy looked at the girl, smiling brightly; she met his smile with one of her own, teasingly bumping into him.

Squinting, she saw that the boy at least, was very familiar.

"No." Taking a step back, she felt a chill snap up her body, causing her head to tingle. Her mouth dry, heart beating rapidly, she willed herself to take another step forward. "No!" She put a hand to her mouth, seeing that the person was exactly who she thought it was.

Steven Walker.

"No, this is impossible!" She stared around her, noticing that there were others nearby. Teenagers and young adults alike were walking, talking, laughing, playing and taking absolutely no notice of her.

One of them, she noticed with wide eyes, was Steven's father.

Instead of lying in a hospital bed, his body ravaged by cancer, he was playing Frisbee with a couple of kids. He sent it flying over the path, down the field and towards a lake, where others were swimming, canoeing and sunbathing.

This was a camp.

But the last time she'd been to camp was at least several years ago. This place was one that she'd never been to before. How was this at all possible? She'd heard of hallucinations before—where something felt real but wasn't—could that be it? There was no way any of this could be real, yet, it felt so much so.

Her eyes drifted back to Steven, who was now only a few meters away. His gorgeous blue eyes were admiring the girl's legs, then her chest and face as he talked with her, laughing and holding her hand.

"Steven!"

"I'm sorry, I just don't like sushi," he chuckled, as she elbowed him playfully. "No really, I mean its rice, seaweed and raw fish! Yuck." His eyes momentarily landed on Cerise, before turning away to the trees.

"Steven?" Was she a ghost? She could feel herself. Still, she noticed that there was no sensation of pain when she squeezed her skin together.

Chasing after Steven, she reached out and pulled on his shoulder. Instead of feeling his soft, firm skin, his body felt like Jell-O. Her fingers dug deep into his skin, before she withdrew her hand in shock.

He kept walking down the path, holding the girl's hand and laughing with her.

Cerise decided to follow them, wondering if she could figure out from their conversation what was going on. Jogging down the path, she caught up with them, syncing her steps with their own as she stayed just one step behind.

Their conversation, at first, was irrelevant.

All she learned as they walked down the path was that her name was 'Julia'.

She racked her memory, but she couldn't recall Steven ever mentioning a girl named Julia. He'd only told her about going to camp and meeting someone there, but that the relationship was short-lived, as she was in Alberta and he in Winnipeg.

So how did she end up in Steven's memories?

It was all so impossible and frightening.

The trail they were on began winding up a hill, while one side rose up as a sheer, jagged cliff wall. To her side, she was given a panoramic view of the lake and the surrounding, hilly countryside. The beauty of it nearly took her breath away.

Steven and Julia, who'd let go of one another, had reached the top of the hill. Several wooden and metal bleachers lay at the top of the hill, with a fire pit in the centre. There were already flames lit, which Steven and Julia sat close to.

He stirred the logs and flames with a poker, sending sparks flying into the air.

She laughed; he wrapped his arms around her.

Cerise ambled up to them both, staring at them with a mixture of intrigue and jealousy. The chemistry between them was tangible; she remembered acting the same way around Nathan during the early months of their relationship before it all went to hell.

Smiling sadly, she had to turn away when she began kissing his neck.

There was only so much she could stand, even in a bizarre place such as this one.

Just as she was about to go back down the trail, she heard a voice call out to her from the base of the hill.

She jumped, startled by the severe, loud tone of the person's voice.

Turning around, she saw that it was the same girl who'd been with Steven. Only she could see her now and was walking up the hill. Her arms crossed over her chest, mouth agape, she shook her head. "Who are you?"

The girl, who'd been sitting beside the campfire with Steven, was now walking up the trail towards her. Instead of an infatuated expression on her face, all Cerise could see was suspicion, anger and hurt.

Pain.

Although this second version of Julia seemed to be hiding it, there was an anguished way in which her eyes pleaded with Cerise for this to be a misunderstanding. Her turquoise eyes, incredibly beautiful and captivating, narrowed when Cerise said nothing.

She glanced behind her, seeing that Steven and Julia were still at the campfire, oblivious to what was going on just a few meters away.

"You can hear me, right?" She stopped a short distance from Cerise, her arms folded tightly over her chest. Her expression changed when Cerise took a step back.

Smiling sadly, she relaxed her arms and stood where she was.

Cerise nodded her head. "I can hear you, but I don't understand any of this. Where am I?"

"Do you know Steven?"

She hesitated, and then said, "Yes. Now can you please tell me what's going on? Who are you? I was just sleeping a few minutes ago and now I wake up here... in this camp, and I just don't know what's going on."

Julia, whose expression was darkening once more, ignored her questions. "You know Steven?"

"Yes, I already said that."

"How? How do you know him?"

"We're friends," she was about to say more, but wasn't sure that news would go over well with this Julia person. Whoever she was, she obviously felt strongly towards Steven. Perhaps she was a jealous ex-girlfriend, or something like that, but Cerise couldn't be sure since none of this really made sense to her.

"Just friends?"

"No." She blushed, thinking of their kiss at the park. "I'm falling for him actually. I really like him. How do you know Steven?"

Julia's eyes lowered, while a sigh escaped her lips. For a long moment she said nothing, but stared at the ground, kicking at a loose clump of dirt. Finally, her eyes brimming with tears, she asked one more question. "Did he kiss you?"

"Yes."

Julia muttered something, and then met Cerise's eyes with fierce intensity. "Did he ever tell you about what happens at night to him? When he goes to sleep? Did he tell you about the dreams?"

"What are dreams?" Cerise had never heard of such a word before.

"You really don't know?" Julia stared at her with a mixture of pity and rage. Sighing, she gestured at their surroundings. "This is a dream. It's like a place or memory you go to when you fall asleep. Only, none of it is real. It's all," she pointed at her head, "in here."

"Oh." Cerise wasn't sure what to make of that.

Her eyes locked back onto Cerise's. "What's your name?"

"Cerise."

"I'm Julia." Walking up to her, she gestured that she follow her down the path. "I was the girl that Steven met at camp. We fell in love, and when he left for Winnipeg, he promised that he would love me forever. We decided that we'd see each other the next summer, when both of us were graduated."

"He told you that?"

"Yes, we both fell for one another, and though we knew distance would be a problem, neither of us wanted that to ruin the relationship. We promised one another that no matter what happened, we'd wait for each other." She frowned, glanced at Cerise and put her hands in her pocket. "Evidently, that didn't happen."

"I'm sorry." Cerise now understood what Steven had meant when he told her he could never love her. This had been his reason. His dark secret. Why hadn't she listened to him? The only part that didn't make sense was why he'd actually kissed her back. "You shouldn't be angry at Steven, Julia." Although she certainly was. "He tried to stop me, but I didn't listen."

Julia only smiled. "I guess were both not as innocent as we thought."

Cerise shrugged. "So what does all this have to do with the dreams?"

So Julia told her everything. She spoke of how she always had this dreaming gift, and that whoever she fell for and kissed, would be given that same gift. Only, that after a short period of time, the person who received the dreaming gift wouldn't be able to handle it. Eventually, their mind would be taken over by the dreams; they'd disappear and go into the Oceans.

"So Steven's going to be sucked into these dreams? I'm sorry, but how could you do that to him? If you knew what was going to happen, why would you go through with it? Why not tell him the truth?" Cerise interrupted, her heart beginning to beat quickly inside of her. Her stomach, which had been upset before, was now tied in knots.

Julia stopped Cerise, a lost, miserable expression on her face. Her lower lip trembled, while her remorseful, heartbreaking tone connected with Cerise. "Because I made a mistake. I loved him so much; I thought I could somehow stop the dreams from taking over. Or that they wouldn't happen at all. I realize now what a horrible mistake it was, I mean, I'm taking away his life."

She paused to wipe tears from her cheek. "We all make horrible choices, Cerise. We do things we know we shouldn't, though most times we can reconcile with the person we hurt, or make right the wrongs we've committed. Just, this time I cannot. I thought I could, but I simply can't. Steven will be taken into these dreams, he will lose his life, and that sin will be forever laid on my conscience."

Cerise pondered her words. "There has to be something you can do. There's always a way out of something, a remedy, a cure! Anything, how can you just let Steven go into these dreams like that? Go into these 'oceans'..." she hesitated, understanding now why Steven had been acting so weird.

"He thinks that by finding me in Alberta, he can somehow save us both." Julia said with a whimsical smile. "But I know that it won't do anything to save us. Perhaps I deserve to be cheated on." Staring at Cerise, she began to walk away.

"But how am I now in these dreams?"

Julia paused, and before walking away for good, she gave her answer. "Because I gave him the dreaming gift, now he's passed it on to you. You both have it now. And both of you will fade away into these dreams. I don't know exactly how it works, but he's given you the gift as well. I'm so sorry, Cerise. I wish I could undo this, but I can't."

"There has to be a way!" Cerise shouted at her, but Julia didn't respond.

Instead, she walked down the path, off of it and into the trees.

Closing her eyes, she took a seat on the gravel path and began to weep. Hugging her knees close to her, she sobbed uncontrollably, knowing that there truly were no good people left in this world.

Only Drake.

Nathan had cheated on her, lied to her and abused her.

Steven never loved her.

When Cerise opened her eyes, tears falling down them, she found herself back in bed, her sheets and blankets wrapped tightly around her.

Chapter Twenty Two

_______________________

Dear Grandma and Grandpa,

I'm sorry that I couldn't tell you this in person. A lot has happened to me that I simply cannot explain. No words can explain what I'm going through or provide a good enough explanation for why I'm leaving so suddenly. Just know that I love you both and I have to thank you for all that you've done for me as my dad is fighting cancer.

Thanks for being there for me.

I'm going to Alberta, where in the province, I cannot say, but just know that I'll be safe. I won't be gone long, perhaps a day or two. I've arranged everything. Do not panic, please, I know what I'm doing.

I love you both.

If he passes before I come back, let him know that I love him so much...

Best Regards,

Steven

In the early morning, Steven took the letter he'd written in his messy scrawl and came up to the fridge. Using an alphabet magnet he once played with as a kid, he stuck the letter to the fridge so his grandparents would see it when they came for their breakfast.

He walked quietly back into his room, taking extra time to stare at the familiar halls and pictures that adorned its walls. Somberly, knowing that this could quite possibly be the last time he walked down this hall, he soaked in the nostalgia. Every place in the hall held memories of his mother, father, family and friends that had walked on the soft, clean carpet.

When he walked up the stairs, he paused to glance down at the door to his father's room, which had been firmly shut. He remembered as a kid how he'd keep his eyes locked on the door when he went down the stairs, early in the morning.

He would sneak downstairs towards the kitchen, where cookies or muffins usually sat in containers on the counter. If he was quiet enough, he would be able to snatch some before his parents awoke. When he'd grabbed several, he would steal back into his room, always watching the door to his parent's room.

If the knob began to turn, he would bolt up the stairs, hide under his covers and pretend to be asleep.

Smiling, Steven stopped halfway on the stairs, hoping this time that the knob would turn. His father would step sleepily out of his room, asking why he was up at such an early hour.

Only, the door remained closed, the knob kept still.

Steven continued walking up the steps, took a turn and sauntered down the hall to his room. Inside, a packed suitcase with clothes, toiletries, headphones, a book, a wallet and some medicine lay on his bed. He took out his wallet, which was stuffed with twenty dollar bills he'd withdrawn from the ATM at 711.

Last night, after visiting his father with his grandparents, he'd gone to the bank, got out a lot of money and then got his airplane ticket online. Since this trip could possibly save his life, he didn't mind taking out a couple hundred dollars for a plane ticket.

Money meant very little if he couldn't spend any of it.

Frowning, he put his wallet in his sweater pocket and went into the bathroom. After brushing his teeth, he put gel in his hair, ruffling it so that it was back to its messy style. Unfortunately, the mirror still refused to show his reflection.

Staring at the mirror only served to remind him that there could be very little time until he was sucked completely into the dreams. That previous night, he'd dreamed with Julia again.

He'd woken up in a warm, empty city. After exploring his surroundings and admiring the incredibly tall, sky-piercing buildings, he called out for Julia. When he found her, she was sitting at a park bench, staring at a massive, green-leafed tree.

Sitting beside her, he decided not to tell her about what had happened when he'd been washed overboard in their last dream. Instead, putting an arm over her shoulder, he told her that he had everything prepared for his trip to Alberta.

She'd smiled at him, telling him that was amazing news. However, there was doubt and uncertainty cast in her eyes. It seemed that she only smiled for his benefit. He recalled how she had refuted his claims that he could resist the dreams.

Though she apologized repeatedly for causing all this to happen, he told her he'd forgiven her completely.

"Why?" She asked, her expression confused and surprised. "Why would you forgive me? I know you love me, Steven, but look at what I'm doing to you." Her eyes became downcast while she turned her face away. "I can't even forgive myself."

Steven had gently put a hand on her face, turning her around. "I love you, Julia. You made a mistake, but I still believe that I can fix it. Even if I can't, getting to know and love you has been all that I've ever wanted. You're the one I will fall in love with and marry, Julia. Life is too short to care."

"Life is all we have, Steven." Her eyes went downcast, while she leaned against Steven's shoulders. "I don't want to take that away from you."

"You haven't," he tapped her nose, smiling sadly. "I'm still here Julia." He was tempted to kiss her again, but instead grabbed her hand. "Will you fly with me?"

After a pause, she nodded her head "I will." She couldn't bring herself to smile, but took Steven's hand. Holding one another firmly, they began to rise into the air. Rising higher than the trees, higher than the skyscrapers, and up into the clouds. Even higher they flew, hand in hand, until they began to rise above the world itself.

From where they floated, the last edges of earth's atmosphere collided with the cold, unfeeling nothingness of space. Below them, the planet was a swath of blue, green, white and brown. To their right, the sun was sinking into the horizon, though much larger in appearance and with blinding, brilliant rays of light.

The gorgeous vista nearly took his breath away.

"This is one reason why I don't regret dreaming—moment's like these, that I can spend with you." They melted into one another, staring down at the stunning view that they were afforded from their elevated position.

However, as Steven thought back on that marvelous dream, he recalled how swiftly it had come to an end. No sooner were they kissing, did he find himself back in bed, wrapped not in her arms, but blankets and sheets.

Now it was the next morning and Steven was quite ready to go on his late morning flight to Edmonton, Alberta. Unfortunately, he wouldn't be able to go straight to Camrose, where Julia lived, instead, he would have to take a taxi to a greyhound bus station, and then take the bus to a few smaller cities, before ending up in Camrose.

Steven left his washroom, flicking off the light and closing the door.

He grabbed his suitcase, putting it on the floor while he made his bed. When he was done, he picked up his bag and heard noises coming from downstairs. Footfalls sounded on the steps as one of his grandparents was making their way up to the kitchen.

He was already on the main floor, standing near the kitchen when his grandma came up the stairs. She looked right at Steven, then to the counter and fridge. Frowning, she hobbled over to the fridge, snatching off the letter.

"I'm sorry, Grandma." Steven began, letting go of his suitcase and leaning it against the wall.

She held the paper in her hand, while she placed her glasses on her wrinkled face. "You're leaving right now?" Her hand trembled, she dropped the paper and it glided to the floor. "I don't think I can allow that."

"I know, Grandma. But I'm going anyways."

She studied him, her old, wizened eyes narrowing. "Is this about the young woman you met at camp? Your father told me on the phone that you met someone there. Are you really going to leave to see this young woman?"

"I am." He couldn't lie to her. "But it's much more than that. I'm sorry that you have to find out like this." His eyes lowered, as he wondered if he should just make a run for it before she got his grandpa involved.

Putting his hands in his pocket, he saw a glowing ball of light form over his grandma's head, before drifting away towards the ceiling. That old, familiar voice filled his head, whispering his name.

The hallucinations weren't relenting, but growing stronger.

"Steven," his grandma began, "I can't allow you to leave. I have no idea what you're up to, but I can't let you go." With a sigh, she placed the letter back on the fridge. Shuffling back to the stairwell, she smiled ever so slightly at her grandson. "This is why I was never awake. I don't know why you're doing this, I can hardly condone it, but you're a young man now, a time will come when all decisions are yours to make."

She hesitated, her mouth opening to form more words, yet she kept silent. Then, her eyes fixed on her grandson; she finished what she needed to say. "Your father always knew that he hadn't prepared you for life as an orphan, which he knew was approaching. If I were to stop you, I would be teaching you nothing. Life is yours to make Steven, choose wisely. And know that no matter what, we'll be here for you. Just come back to see your father off." A tear formed at her eyes, then rolled down her cheek.

Steven went right up to her, enveloping her in his arms. "Thank you."

"Be careful, Steven." She held her grandson close, and then reluctantly let him go. "I always thought this generation was about texting and Facebook. Why do you so badly want to see her?"

"It's not like that," before he could explain more, his grandma had already turned around and was heading down the stairs. He could hear his grandpa stirring downstairs, so he hastily went to the front door, zippered up his sweater and grabbed his suitcase.

School was still closed, as the city struggled to unbury itself from the city's worst snowstorm in decades.

He ran to his car, shivering as the wind was bitterly cold. Once inside, he turned it on, waited a few minutes for it to warm up and pulled out of the driveway.

Before he went to the airport, he had two stops to make.

Steven parked outside Cerise's house, glancing behind him at the street where the Keeper had confronted him. As he got out of the car, he noticed that the road was utterly clear. As if nothing had happened.

A chill ran up his spine as he imagined the Keeper watching him.

He strode up to the door, trying to ignore the persistent voices in his head.

The growing whispers.

Steven knocked on the metal, screen door.

Behind him, the sun was rising over the treetops, sprinkling him with warm, radiant light.

Flakes of snow drifted in the air, flying around Steven as he pulled his sweater tighter around his body. In his hand, he held a single rose.

It was one of many floral donations from those who were certain it was a nice thought to a dying man.

Waiting outside her door, he hoped that he could be as brief as possible. He would apologize for misleading her, give her the rose and be on his way. Or was the rose misleading? Panicking, he stared at the flower, wondering what he could possibly do with it now.

The door began to open.

Without thinking, he tossed the flower to the floor, where it landed at the foot of the door in a pile of fluffy snow.

The door opened. Cerise took one step on the snow, before her foot retreated back inside. Although she was still quite beautiful, her eyes carried with them bags and her hair was a mess of red strands. She sighed when she saw it was Steven at the door.

"Hey."

"Hi." Cerise didn't open the door for him. "What do you want?"

"I've come to apologize." He risked another glance at her, seeing that it was now Julia standing in the doorway. Staring at his feet, he breathed in sharply. "I'm really sorry about kissing you and running off like that. I'm—it's complicated."

"Okay." Cerise crossed her ankles, leaning against the doorway. "I get it Steven. I understand that kiss wasn't for me."

Steven looked up in surprise. "Why would you say that?"

"A girl can tell." Cerise started to close the door. "Goodbye Steven."

"Wait," he bent down to pick up the rose, rethinking his former doubts. "I feel really bad. I think you should have this." He noticed that underneath the snow near the rose, was a bouquet of flowers. Odd.

She took the flower tentatively, brushing some of the snow off of it. "Thanks, I guess."

"I really hope we can still be friends, Cerise."

He met her gaze, for once actually seeing his old, brown eyed friend.

If just for a second.

She smiled at him, before closing the door firmly. "I'm sure we will, Steven."

"Okay, take care, Cerise." He said to the closed door, hoping that she heard him.

He left after a long moment's silence.

Steven sat in the terminal, his suitcase on the floor at his feet. Row after row of plastic chairs filled the long, stretched out hall where passengers waited to board their planes and leave the city of Winnipeg. Most of them were carrying coffee or some other beverage, talking on their cells or with others around them.

Many of them occupied chairs, doing the same thing as Steven, except they had entirely different reasons for being there. One of them, a tired, haggard man in a business suit stared at his phone, pressing it furiously. "Damn it!" His face went red as he swore loudly, gathering the attention of several nearby.

Steven stared at the man, briefly making eye contact before staring back at the floor.

The businessman put his phone back in his pocket, rubbed his eyes and stared off into space with a lost, forlorn expression. Steven wondered what the man was so agitated by, could it be a business contract fell through. He and his wife were arguing? Was he simply in a bad mood?

This man, as haggard and grouchy in appearance as he was, had a thousand untold stories that everyone in this airport wouldn't be privy too. No one would know why this man was the way he was, or what he was doing.

Just a complete stranger.

So it was for him to everyone else—no one would know that he was on a last ditch effort to save himself from slipping into a dream. Although his story was ludicrous and hard to believe, he wondered if there were others here with just as fanciful, incredible stories.

Steven leaned back in his seat, staring at the businessman with newfound interest. Although neither had spoken a word, or would ever receive that chance, he'd still thought about him. The man had stirred inside him deep, revelatory thoughts.

Perhaps he'd done so in others.

The businessman noticed his stare, returned it with an offended scowl and turned his attention back to his phone.

Before going to the airport he went to Health Sciences Center to say goodbye to his father. When he made it into the hospital room, he'd been struck by just how deteriorated his condition had become in just mere hours.

Steven had gone to the side of his bed, staring down at him. "Dad?"

The man he'd once called his father, couldn't even respond. Instead, drool dripping from the corner of his mouth, he stared straight ahead. The machines indicated that he was still alive and breathing, Steven's eyes told him differently.

He thought of sitting on a chair, but decided that he would make this visit short.

"I don't know if you can hear me or not, but I'm sorry about our last visit. I was angry... I just wish that things had been different. All those times that I felt like you didn't care—then all of a sudden you say I love you. I don't know. I just wasn't sure how to respond." He paused, hoping that the man would stir from his slumber.

His father, however, was no longer fighting cancer.

"I know that mom's passing was hard. Hard on us both. I wasn't always the best son either; I've made a lot of mistakes. I know that all you ever wanted me to be was a Christian. That you still do. I'm sorry that I can never become one though—I just don't have that kind of faith anymore. I wish I could be comforted by thoughts of you in heaven, but I'm convinced that this will be the last time I see you."

He briefly considered telling him about the dreams.

"I love you, Dad. And I forgive you." He paused. "And I thank you; thank you for taking care of me. I'm going to miss you a lot when you're gone." For once, ever since his father's diagnosis, Steven meant those words.

"Goodbye Dad," he bent over, lowering his lips to his father's sweat-beaded forehead. Kissing it, he stood back up, saw no response and slowly exited the room.

Behind him, the old man lay on his bed.

Steven was called out of his reminiscing by the airport's intercom system. A monotonous, female voice told the passengers that the flight to Edmonton, Alberta was open for boarding.

Picking up his bags, he followed the mass of weary travelers to the boarding gates.

Towards Alberta.

Towards Julia.

Chapter Twenty Three

________________________

A month had nearly passed since Cerise had drunk Smoothies with her best friend, Drake. In that short amount of time, she found that her entire life had been turned on its head. Nathan had broken up with her; she'd fallen for an old friend, and then found out that he too harbored a deadly secret. Hers, though not so monumental, was that she needed a guy to love her.

It had begun in grade six, when all her friends teased her for how ugly she was. They laughed at her braces, at her crooked teeth that hid behind thick, metal wires. One of them, whose name still sat in her mind like a rotting corpse in a grave, had nearly turned the entire class against her.

During the hot, early months of summer, she would sit on the swings, completely alone.

She could see the other girls, playing and laughing with one another. They'd tease the boys in her class, causing them to chase after them. In later grades, especially grade six, they began to do other things with those same boys.

With curiosity and sad, pitiful envy she'd watch the girls and boys do something that she'd never seen before: flirt. They would tease them, follow them, laugh at their stupid antics, cling to them, hug them, and kiss them. When this happened, she noticed their large grins, loud giggles and the boys glowing adoration written on their faces.

That following summer, before elementary school turned into junior high, she was determined to make a boy feel the same way for her. Steven, who'd she seen from time to time on her block, was her first choice.

And, to her amazement, he did fall for her. Though he broke her heart in the end, she remembered how good it felt to be wanted. She was just like the other girls, the popular, happy girls in her class. When she came into junior high, she hid her braces behind a tight, teasing, close-lipped grin.

Makeup adorned her face, while junky, sweet and salty foods were put away.

She followed suite of the other girls, teasing the cute boys, flirting with them and eventually garnering their undivided attention. It was an addicting pursuit. The more the boys liked her, the better she felt, the more they wanted, and the more she gave.

Her childhood dorkiness was thrown away and replaced by a playful, teasing side of her.

Then it became all of her.

When Nathan entered her life, she'd already given her heart to so many guys; it was a tattered, bruised and rotting thing. Still, she hid the scars and bruises well under hollow laughs, biting kisses, and late nights wondering why the sex felt so empty.

Now that Nathan had ground her heart to dust and Steven was a bitter disappointment, she realized how empty she'd become. Her heart, nothing but a ghost, only served to haunt her with memories of the 'had been'.

Staring at Drake, who was sitting by himself at a table in Kildonan Place's food-court, she saw how happy he was. No one had ever fallen for him, he wasn't a role model or someone people looked at enviously, but there was satisfaction in his eyes.

Peace.

He hadn't needed validation from others, in fact, he thought of it as amusing.

Sitting there, waiting for her, he didn't mind that none of the nearby girls cast him longing, desperate glances. She suspected that he was incapable of noticing others in that kind of way, to him, they were all equals. They were all good people.

He wasn't naïve; he knew more than anyone else how cruel the world could be. Yet, he wasn't bitter or resentful; he'd accepted who he was. Unlike most, he wouldn't spend minutes glancing wistfully into a mirror, or staring at others with envy.

Drake may have wished, underneath it all, to be handsome; but that wish was so much stronger in her and others. Funny how the good looking wanted so much to be more, while it was the unattractive that were the most content.

"Hi Drake," she came up to the table, giving him a short wave.

"Cerise." Grinning, his narrow eyes lit up. "You look amazing."

She smiled, wishing for once, that she didn't. "Thanks."

His lips lifted into a half-grin, as he cocked his head towards Booster Juice. "Shall we?"

"You read my mind," she winked.

His half-grin turned into a full one as he led her through the tables, towards a line of people also wanting to get their smoothies.

They ordered their drinks, Drake paid for both, walked to a different table, sat down and talked for a good hour or so. His eyes always on her face, soaking in her presence as if she was someone he'd been waiting his whole life to meet. When both of them had finished, she suggested they go back to her place and watch a movie.

He agreed.

"Drake," she put a hand on his arm as he was about to get up. She'd never known how strong his muscles rippled. Her eyes sparkling, she waited until Drake was back in his seat, staring at her with inquisitive eyes. Twin dimples appeared on his face as his smile grew.

"What is it?"

"Thanks," she swallowed nervously, "for being there for me. For never giving up. I always wanted someone to fall in love with me. But what I always needed, what I always wanted, was someone like you. A friend who loved me for who I was, not for what he could get."

"Of course." He smiled, staring at her from across the table.

For one crazy second, she considered reaching over the table and kissing him. However, the love between them was more than romance—it was a love she'd been searching for. Yes, he did love her, but in a way so different, perhaps even deeper than any love she'd known before.

A love that would cause him to throw her out of the way of a speeding car.

A love that would keep him at a theatre, holding true their arranged meeting, even when she completely forgot about it.

A love that Cerise had been so desperately searching for, though she never knew it. Instead, she'd been allured by the thrill, the passion, when really, all she needed was a guy to tell be there, to wrap her in his arms and hold her tight.

To be there for her no matter what.

Drake had been that guy—he'd shown her that love.

She hoped, that one day, she could show him that love in return.

Cerise sat on her living room couch, sitting comfortably beside Drake as the television in front of them showed their favorite movie: (500) Days of Summer. A bowl of popcorn sat between them, which they both snacked on.

Watching the movie distracted her from the pain that had lurked behind every thought and feeling.

She wondered if tonight, she would go back into those crazy dreams.

If Steven was there, what would she do?

A part of her wanted to slap him across the face, demanding to know how he could've been so cruel. Only, most of her didn't want that at all. She actually understood now that she'd come onto him so strong, and while he was certainly to blame for a lot, she'd been so desperate to feel love again that she'd nearly demanded it from him.

So, if she did dream with him, she would tell him that she fully forgave him.

Though she had to swallow a good dose of bitterness, there was peace in knowing she could tell Steven, 'I forgive you'. Also, she would tell him to love Julia with all his heart, that she'd be a friend, but nothing more.

Her days of dependence were over.

She stole a glance at Drake, who was munching on a mouthful of popcorn. "Thirsty?" Her own throat was scratchy and dry from all the popcorn.

"I am," he reached over to the remote and paused the movie.

Together, they got up and went into the kitchen. He brought out the glasses and the ice; she dug inside the fridge, finding Ginger Ale. Though she was tempted to grab a little wine, her parents were still home and that would do little to ail her thirst.

"My favorite," he put the ice in the glasses, she finished them off with Ginger Ale.

They each grabbed a glass, clinking them together.

"To the start of an amazing year," she laughed, and he murmured his agreement.

Their eyes met as she sipped from her drink, relishing how the fizzy beverage bubbled inside her mouth. Swallowing, she was about to take another sip when she heard a knock on the door.

Gentle, unsteady.

Cerise put her glass on the marble countertop, walked back into the living room and towards the doorway. Pulling the door open, she was startled by a glassy-eyed, drooling and red-faced Nathan.

His eyes met Drake's and filled with hellish, uncontrollable rage. Taking a shaky step forward, he reached behind him. He roared, "I want her back!" And swung a knife at them.

Steven felt his stomach lurch as the plane, which had been gaining tremendous speed down the runaway, took off into the air. A smile flickered to life on his face, while that momentary thrill of weightless sent adrenaline coursing through his veins.

While flying in the dreams had been exhilarating, it couldn't compare to the simple take off of a passenger airplane.

Staring outside the window, his breath fogging the portal, he watched the city of Winnipeg be reduced to a grey smear on a green and white series of fields. Roads crisscrossed the landscape, before even those were too small to see.

When the seat-buckle sign was turned off, he undid his, put in headphones and watched the screen ahead of him. One of his favorite sitcoms was on, How I Met Your Mother, and the show distracted him for a good half hour.

While the desire to sleep was strong, he kept himself from giving in.

Turning off the television, he got up and took out his carry-on bag. Inside was Hamlet by Shakespeare, which he was supposed to have read days ago. As he stood in the aisle, unlocking the cabinet where he stored his bags, he saw someone coming towards him.

A man shuffled down the aisle, donning a tight, ripped sweater. "Steven..." He said in a deadpan tone, moving ever closer. "Steven..." Blinking, he saw that it was just another hallucination.

The gunman was gone.

Shaking his head, feeling more nauseous than ever, he went back into his seat. Resting his bag on the empty seat next to his, he took out his book.

But all he could think about were the dreams.

'I want to dream again,' Steven had said that once, but was it true? There was a tremor in his heart, as it split right in half. One side vowed to dream again, the other knew that it would only ruin him.

Reality or dreams?

Steven had been sure that he could have both, now he was beginning to see that it was one or the other. He couldn't live in a world of dreams, while keeping another foot firmly planted in reality. He either had to wake up or completely fall asleep.

He had to make a choice.

Staring at the old, stained and wrinkled text, Steven found that no answers were readily available. Putting the old book back in his suitcase, he delegated his attention to staring outside the window. Before him, wispy, grey clouds took away the potential to have a stunning view of the Canadian countryside.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Julia sitting beside him. Reaching for his hand, he stayed frozen in his seat. She grabbed his fingers playfully, a warm smile on her lips. "You're coming to Alberta, Steven! I always knew you would."

Steven yanked his hand away, clutching it to his chest. "You're not real. Damn it, you're not real!" Sighing, he saw that she was still seated beside him.

An older couple across the aisle stared pensively at Steven. One of them whispered to the other.

The hallucination of Julia began to fade, before disappearing completely.

Steven shut his eyes, letting out a tortured breath.

His dreams really were taking over his reality.

And he could do nothing to stop them.

For the remainder of the flight he listened to music he'd stored on his phone, trying not to think of what lay ahead. When the plane touched down in Edmonton, Steven hesitantly joined the stream of passengers disembarking. With his bags in hand, he walked alone in the crowded airport.

Carrying one bag strapped around his shoulder, another in his hand, Steven strolled out of Edmonton International Airport. The automatic doors slid out of his way, as he walked over to a cab parked on the road, near the entrance.

Thanks to the time difference, it was only four o'clock in the afternoon when Steven got inside the taxi and asked to be taken to the Greyhound station. For the next forty minutes he sat in the backseat, texting Jasper and Leanne.

Their small, yellow cab was stuck in the grid-lock of rush-hour traffic. Vehicles all around were honking loudly, swerving into different lanes and trying to make headway down the jam-packed roads.

A light sprinkle of rain fell from dark clouds, which were beginning to break apart, letting in bright rays of sunshine.

A rainbow formed in the distance before disappearing when the rain tapered off.

Steven glanced out his window, taking in the beauty and industry of the bustling city of Edmonton. The taxi driver, a stout Frenchmen with a loud voice, proudly informed him they were passing by West Edmonton Mall. Staring at the world's largest mall, Steven wasn't terribly impressed.

Mall of America had seemed larger, at least from the outside.

Steven had commented on its size, feigning interest before he returned his attention back on his cell phone.

Jasper asked him why he wasn't in school, Steven told him that he was simply not feeling well and staying at home.

Which wasn't really a lie, but Steven wasn't about to trust his friend with the truth.

The rest of the journey was entirely non-eventful.

Steven paid the cab-driver when he was dropped off at the Greyhound bus station. Inside, he paid for his ticket, and then waited in the terminal, staring out the window.

As he waited, the hallucinations would often come up without warning.

He could see the glowing ball of light, expanding and diminishing as it floated in the air, eerily keeping its distance. Mixed in with others waiting for their buses, he would occasionally see Julia or the gunman, walking around the station as if they belonged there.

His name would also be called out in whispery or loud tones, causing him to stir and jump. Was this what a Schizophrenic had to live with on a daily basis?

One particular hallucination frightened him enough that he couldn't help but react physically. As he sat on a hard, plastic chair, glancing frequently at the clock, he noticed Julia coming towards him.

"Steven! Dream with me, please! Steven!" She called out his name drifting closer and closer. When she was a good couple meters away, the hooded figure entered the scene, his gun in hand. Aiming it at Julia, he spat out curses and shot her twice.

The bullets tore through her body, leaving bloody, gaping wounds in her abdomen.

"Julia!" Steven got to his feet, reaching out for his lover as she fell to her knees.

Then there was nothing there, but empty air and a few passengers staring at Steven with a mixture of amusement and concern. The woman at the ticket booth asked if he was alright, and he said something about 'Tourette's Syndrome' before hurrying out of the terminal.

Outside, the cool air was a welcome relief from the stuffy, dark indoor atmosphere.

"Oh Julia, what am I going to do?" He stared up at the darkening sky, closed his eyes and waited for his bus.

And for answers he wasn't sure would ever come.

When his bus came, he took a seat in the back. The chair was comfortable and sleep tempting. Staring out the window, he watched the passing countryside.

What if none of this was real?

What if he was crazy? Or really in a mental institution, imagining this entire scenario. Could it really all be real? It all felt real enough, but then again, so had the dreams and they were all played out in his sleep.

Was this anything more than a fantasy in his head?

The sun was just setting over the trees when Steven stepped out of the Greyhound bus. With one bag strapped on his shoulder and the other in his hand, he hobbled onto the pavement with shaky, weak legs.

After sitting on the bus for nearly three hours, he was quite ready to find a motel and crash for the night. Tomorrow, early in the morning, he would go and find Julia's house. Although she'd given her address, he wasn't exactly sure how close it was to the motel near the bus stop.

Down the road, near a sign that read: "Welcome to Camrose" was another sign boasting of a motel. He would've preferred a hotel, but after a long day of traveling, all he really wanted was a place with a shower and a bed.

The dingy, broken motel only had fifteen rooms, all adjacent to one another in a single, rectangular building. Chipped, drying paint covered the window sills and doorway, while ratty, rouge drapes clung to the windows. A handful of automobiles, most of them in the same state of disrepair as the motel, parked in front of the establishment. A middle aged woman, cigarette placed between her lips, strolled out of one of the rooms, an older man following close behind.

Steven walked over loose stones and dirt that made up the parking lot. Inside, he saw that the lobby was in a surprisingly better state. Paint covered the walls in warm hues of red, mahogany and brown. Two leather couches, unoccupied and black, sat inside the small room next to the checkout desk. Standing behind the desk, staring at his cell with blank eyes, was a kid nearly the same age as Steven.

Putting his phone away, the blonde haired teen smiled. "Evening. How can I help?" He wore a green, button up shirt, with a slightly wrinkled white undershirt beneath. Squinting at Steven while sunlight streamed through the windows and hit his face, he scratched a mole on his chin.

"I just need a room for the night." Steven strode up to the desk, fishing his wallet from his pocket. Opening it, he waited for a price.

"Can I have some ID?"

Raising an eyebrow, Steven only shook his head. "Why?"

Chuckling, the teen shrugged. "You need to be eighteen or over to book a room. You don't look eighteen though. Are you?"

"No. But cut me some slack, okay? I've traveled over a thousand kilometers to get here."

"Runaway?"

"No."

"Ah, shit, why are you here all alone?" He laughed, scratching that big, hair-riddled mole. "Most kids come here from the reserves with their girls, drive up in 'em trucks, completely trash the rooms too. Shit, I can't tell you how many times I had to clean 'em up." Leaning on the counter, he rested his elbows on the surface.

"Sorry to hear that, but I'm just traveling. Can you help me out?"

"No. Rules are rules, and my ass is gonna be kicked if my manager finds out I let you in." Drawing out a sigh, he turned around, staring up at a small, cheap camera mounted on the wall.

Steven thought about spending the night outside, but knew he wasn't up for it. "I'll make it worth it. Please, I have nowhere else to go. How much is a room?"

"Fifty five plus tax. But I aint giving you a room, kid."

"Here's a hundred." Steven placed five twenty dollars bills on the counter, glancing nervously at the camera. "Please, I'm not going to trash the room. I'll be leaving early too. I just need some help; can you do that for me?"

Staring at the cash, his mouth twitched into a grin. Scraping it off the counter and into his hand, he looked up at Steven with round brown eyes. "Close, but I'll need two more of 'em bills."

"No."

"Then get out of here."

"Fine, give me back the money." Steven held out his hand, smiling as a conflicted look appeared on the boy's face. For a moment, he was about to give it back, but crumpled it in his grip instead. Grimacing, he stared at the camera, then back at Steven. "You son of a bitch," but he said it as if a respected rival had just played an unexpected, game-winning move in chess. "Room thirteen. Lucky, aint it?"

He took a key off the wall, placing it on the counter. Steven, who was smiling, took the key and winked at the boy. "Thanks a lot."

"Ah, whatever." But he didn't look all that angry. Instead, he placed some of the money in his pocket, while the rest went into an old, dingy register. Leaning back on the counter, he shook his head and went back to texting on his phone.

Steven took one step out of the motel, swinging the key around his finger, and crashed into someone. The man, wearing a tight, ripped hoodie, shoved him out of the way.

Falling on the hard stones, Steven stared up at the man, seeing that it was one of the hallucinations. Only, instead of disappearing, he took out his gun, pointed it at him and spoke, "You can't stop the inevitable. You can't stop the tide, and you can't get off this ride." He pulled the trigger.

Steven blacked out.

Opening his eyes, Steven once again found himself in a place that could only be conjured up by a dream. He was lying on his back, staring up at pieces of stone, grass, trees, rock, dirt and sand floating high into the sky. It was as if the surface of the earth had heaved upwards, sending all of its contents into the air.

A large stone, covered in clumps of dirt, drifted beside him, brushing against his face. Steven pushed it away, but couldn't make it budge an inch. Instead, he could only make it wobble, but its path upwards was completely unaffected.

Clouds of dirt and grass floated nearby, coming towards him as he quickly got to his feet. After making sure he was in the clear, Steven jumped into the air, reaching out for a rock floating overhead. His fingers brushed up against the surface and he clamped onto it.

His body, weightless in the strange, zero-gravity dream, floated below the rock. There was no strain on his fingers, which he used to keep himself anchored to the flying rock.

"Julia!" Steven called his lover's name before climbing atop the rock, perching on its cold, hard surface. Staring around him, he noticed that any beautiful vistas that might be around were blocked by billowing clouds of dirt and sand. The choking plumes of soil were lifting higher and higher into the air, which was a clear, turquoise color.

He saw the trunk of a towering elm tree, leapt towards it and hooked his arms around the smooth, chipped bark. Trying to escape the ballooning columns of dirt, sand and pebbles, he climbed up the tree like a monkey. However, he soon found that he didn't need to climb, since there was no gravity pulling him down. Instead, using the branches poking out of the tree, he would grab one, then use it catapult his body upwards. The momentum would carry him great distances up the terrifyingly elevated tree.

However, he couldn't see Julia anywhere.

Until he did see her, far off in the distance, sitting on a branch of a small, leaf-filled oak tree. In her hand, she held an apple, which she brought to her mouth and took a bite of. "Julia! Julia! I'm over here! Hey!" He grabbed a branch, stopping his movement and called out to her.

Although he was sure his voice carried to her in the quiet, eerie dream, she didn't respond.

She did take another bite of her apple, her back turned to him.

Feeling a momentary pang of guilt over his kiss with Cerise, he wondered for an inane moment if she'd found out. It was impossible though, he dismissed those worries as ridiculous.

"Julia!" Between her and him, there were only a few floating rocks and branches. Staring down, he saw the rising clouds of dirt. There wouldn't be much time. Planting his feet against the trunk of the tree, he bent his knees, then extended them, letting go of the towering elm. He sprung forward, scraping against a branch. He opened his mouth for a breath, swallowed a clump of dirt and gagged.

Spitting out the soil, he wiped his mouth on his arm, trying to get the horrible taste out of his mouth. Clamping his lips shut, he willed himself to swallow the rest of the grains and kicked off a nearby stone to finish the short journey towards the oak tree.

One of the spindling roots stretched out of the base of the tree, which he grabbed. "Julia!" She was only a few meters above him, sitting on the branch, her legs swinging back and forth. Steven moved up the tree, wondering what could possibly be keeping her so quiet.

Was it the guilt of what she'd done to him?

He grabbed the branch she was on, pulling himself up beside her. Keeping a good distance between them, he stared to his side, trying to pick up her gaze. However, she stared straight ahead, her apple still in hand.

"Hey you." Grinning, he noticed her eyes drift towards him, then dart back to where they were staring before. Her lips parted a bit, releasing a quiet, long-drawn sigh. "I'm in Camrose, Julia. I made it. I'm so close to fixing us." He tried to hold her hand, but she pulled it away.

"Julia." His tone dropped from curious and happy, to a worried, deeper tone. Putting a hand on her bare shoulder, he was relieved that she made no attempt to remove it. Instead, turning her face to his, her lower lip began to tremble. "What's wrong?"

He moved his hand up to her face, trailing her cold, pale skin with the back of his fingers.

Steven took her hand, which was limp and cooler than ever before. "Can you please talk to me?"

Julia only shook her head, leaving her hands floppy in his grip. "I saw her, Steven. During one of our shared memories, I saw Cerise." Her hand stiffened as she removed it from his hold, crossing her legs, she stared off into the distance. "This affects more than us both, now."

Steven said nothing.

He only stared at Julia, his blue eyes blank and wide. "Cerise? How is that even possible?" His heartbeat quickened, while sweat gathered on his skin. He thought back on their kiss. "You mean she was actually inside?"

"I talked with her—I told her everything. Steven," she stared at her lover as his mouth hung open, his cheeks tinged red, "I don't want to make this into a big deal. I know you messed up, but really? I don't even know if I care anymore. We've both done each other so much wrong. Despite all the good times, we're both sitting here, our lives falling apart. You should've stayed in Winnipeg." No tears fell from her eyes, but plenty were building in his.

Steven had brought Cerise into the dreams? Was she cursed as well? Steven shut his eyes, clenching his fists. "What have I done? Julia, I'm so sorry."

"I know you are," she grabbed his hand, intertwining their fingers. "She told me that it was mostly her fault that you tried to stop her. I know that's no excuse, and putting it frankly, you messed up. But I don't care anymore. You're going to slip away, Cerise will too, and I will stay here in this endless dream. If you find me, could you," she gulped nervously, staring deep into his eyes, "can you kill me? I don't want to stay here anymore."

"No!" He let go of her hand, his eyes widening in horror. "Never! Listen, Julia, things will get better. They always do. I know it all seems hopeless, but I can still fix this."

Julia only laughed mirthlessly, while pieces of dirt and sand rose up from beneath them, choking out the air. He took her hand, holding it tightly as they jumped off the branch and higher into the clear air. Behind them, the swirls of dust kept a steady pace.

"I love you, Julia. Even with all of this, I still love you." Before the dirt completely enveloped them, he took her in his arms, holding her tightly.

"I know you do." She paused, pressing her face into his chest.

Closing his eyes, he pretended like her not saying 'I love you too' didn't hurt him.

"It's just that I always imagined that this place would be a paradise for us, Steven. A place where we could escape the toils and horrors of the world, to be together, to fall more and more in love. I wanted to dream again, but only if you would be there with me. It's why I pretended like you wouldn't disappear, I just couldn't reconcile reality with my dreams."

"It can still be our paradise, Julia. And if not, then I don't mind spending our waking moments together, and my sleep just waiting to see you once more." He kissed her cheek, shut his eyes and was swallowed whole by the clouds of soil.

And though he didn't immediately awake, just being there in Julia's arms was good enough for him.

Even if he was surrounded by dirt.

But then, so it was in the world of dreams.

Chapter Twenty Four

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He walks out of the ditch, covered in sweat, dirt and blood. Moving slowly, his joints aching and complaining, he is startled to find that he's mostly unscathed. Wiping sweat from his brow and rubbing his eyes, he stumbles down the road towards the scene of the accident. The alcohol inside him numbs the pain, yet cannot conceal from him the horror of what he's done.

"Ethan... Ethan, where you are you, man?" He sobs, lumbering closer to his truck, which is now a totaled, smoking mess. Inside the cab, his cousin is flattened against his steering wheel, staring through empty, glassy eyes. His neck is jutting out at an impossible angle, while blood oozes from lacerations covering his skin. Littering the wreck is glass from the smashed windows, and bottles of alcohol they were going to bring to a party in Camrose.

He will feel tremendous pain later, but for now, all he feels is nothing.

Limping towards another vehicle, this one a smaller car, he turns away in horror. The passenger in the car, her hair splayed on her face and matted down with blood, is mangled inside the cab. Pieces of metal, plastic and leather make for an appalling coffin.

"No... no... Ethan... I want to go home now." His ankle is twisted, dragging behind him as he comes across the third corpse. Sobbing, he sees that this is another girl, pretty face; small hands are wrapped around a cell phone.

He turns around, staring up at the inky blackness of night, wondering why even the moon doesn't lend a hand and shine down on the situation. No stars twinkle tonight. Staring down at the beautiful, dead girl, he realizes that she is still breathing.

Sirens. He hears sirens.

He wasn't supposed to be out here, he was supposed to be in bed, sleeping in his room, imagining the day he could kiss Cerise again. Now, he was standing in the middle of an accident, his cousin dead in the cab, having hit a car and killed one girl, wounded severely another.

They needn't know he was here.

Limping away from the accident, his ankle burning, he makes no move to save the victims.

The sirens grow louder.

He can feel guilt growing in his heart, demanding that he go back and atone for his sins. It'd been his idea to go with his cousin to the party in Camrose, it'd been him who was demanding they go there and have a good time. He'd called Ethan a coward, a pussy; when he relented, they were already smashed, and in no condition to drive.

"I have to get back... no time..." He wasn't going to be caught up in this mess. If he could just sneak back to his cousin's home, no one would be the wiser. Only he would know; his guilty, witnessing eyes would be the only ones who could testify to the truth.

"I was only a passenger... not my fault," he mumbles to himself, limping down the dark, gravel road. Laughing, he wishes he could have some more liquor. He falls to his knees, puke dribbling through his closed lips, falling onto his shirt and onto the road. He wipes it away, glancing around to make sure the sirens aren't coming to get him.

"No... I was only a passenger... no..." He chuckles, limping down the dark road. "I won't be caught." Only, as he says this to himself, all he can see is a girl mangled in the passenger's seat, her friend lying on the pavement, bleeding and slowly dying.

He wonders if they screamed before they died.

They must be, since he can hear, heart wrenching cries.

Then he realizes those are his own.

Nathan sat on his bed, a bottle of whisky in his tight, compressed grip. Bringing it to his lips, he gulped down the alcohol, feeling the burn in his throat and chest. His mind began to numb as he got to his feet, swaying back and forth.

It was the third night he'd drank himself into dark, comforting oblivion.

Only, his thoughts were still consumed by desires and feelings for Cerise. Her soft, delicious skin, amazing, shimmering auburn hair, her eyes, supple lips. Her laugh, her kiss, her hug, and the way she'd cuddle with him, how they would make love on those late nights in his apartment.

He dropped the bottle of whiskey, letting it fall to the floor, its content pooling on the carpet. Kicking it away, he glanced behind him at his bed, remembering that there'd been a time that he didn't always sleep alone.

A tear rolled down his cheek, he wiped it away angrily.

The alcohol wasn't taking away the pain—tonight, he was glad for this.

"I have to get her back." He muttered, as he stooped down to grab his glass bottle. However, he stopped short, knowing that for him to get her back, he needed to be as clear-headed as possible.

Stumbling into the kitchen, he saw a sharp, serrated knife resting on the stained countertop. What if Drake was there also? She always spent time with him, "That bastard; ugly, little shit." He took the knife off the counter, holding it tightly in his grip. "Let's see how nice you look with a blade in your heart," he chuckled mirthlessly, slid the knife under his belt and concealed it with his long, jersey.

"I know I threw you away, but I still love you, Cerise." He whispered to no one in particular, shuffling out of the grungy kitchen and towards the front door. As if she was behind him, laying on his bed, smiling at him, he turned around to face her. "I'm going to see you, bring you back here and hold you in my arms. I never gave you up; I just gave up on myself." His downcast eyes went back to the door, which he opened, stepped out and closed behind him.

His throat ached for more liquor.

Perhaps, when she was back with him, they would share a bottle together.

"I'm coming for you, my love. I'm coming for you." He got into his car, which was parked outside his apartment complex, drove for twenty minutes and quickly found her house. No sirens had been around to stop him this time.

Parking half on her driveway, and half on the street, he smiled. Then chuckled. Then laughed heartily, throwing his head back as he realized how Cerise would tease him for being such a bad driver. "I could never park this damn car," he chuckled, stepped out of the car and sauntered over to the front door.

The knife pricked his skin, drawing some blood.

He stumbled to the front door, fixed his short, dark hair and hoped he was presentable enough. He rapped his knuckles gently on the door, swaying slightly as he fought to keep his balance. Perhaps he'd had far too much alcohol before coming here.

But what was one more bottle after three anyways?

When the door opened, Nathan was half expecting Cerise to throw her arms around him. She would apologize for how rude she'd been before, kiss him on the lips and he'd take her back with him for the night. In his alcohol fogged mind, it all made crystal clear sense.

That's why, when he opened the door and saw Drake with Cerise, he lost it.

He was suddenly very glad he'd brought his knife. Taking it out of his belt, he swung it forward, took a step inside and eyed Drake. Shouting, his voice hoarse, he knew that he would kill him. "I want her back!"

Chapter Twenty Five

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Nathan swung his knife at Cerise, his eyes red and words slurred. He threw the door open, stepping inside as she retreated away. "You! You lying whore!" He pointed a finger at Drake, who was now coming towards them, his eyes fierce and hands up defensively.

"Nathan, get out of here! Go! Now!" She held her ground, seeing that he was drunk out of his mind. "Don't do something you'll regret, please, go home." She saw Drake inch slowly towards a bookshelf leaning against the wall away from the door. On it, a phone sat on its cradle.

Nathan saw that too, leaped forward and grabbed Cerise by her hair. In a swift, clumsy movement, he had her in his muscle-strapped arm, while he pointed a knife at her heart. Constricting her small, thin arms with one of his own, he laughed sardonically. "And you thought Cerise loved you? You're a disgusting, ugly, little piece of worthless shit! Do you really think she could love you?"

Cerise fought in his grip, but he stopped her by placing the knife against her neck. She started to cry, tears running down her face as she was filled with fear. This maniac, a man she had once loved so much, had turned into a monster. His embrace, once so comforting and warm, was now one she desperately wanted to flee from.

Drake retreated from the phone, his eyes also wide with terror. And with love. Taking a step forward, he gritted his teeth together. "Let her go."

"Answer my damn question! Do you think she loves you? Did you actually," he chuckled, his beer-laced breath causing Cerise to gag, "think she could love you?"

"I do." He could hear the television playing from upstairs in Cerise's parent's room. Unfortunately, both of them had wanted to give the two privacy, so they closed the door and made their room as sound-canceling as possible.

Nathan heard it to, his green eyes darting to the staircase. "You scream, and I'll slit her throat. Don't you dare make any noises, or I swear to God, she dies!" He pressed the blade against her skin, threatening to split it apart.

Cerise sobbed.

Drake only stood there, his jaw clenched in rage. "Let her go."

"She doesn't love you!" He said forcefully, but not loudly. His hold on Cerise relaxed, while the knife wavered from her neck. Cerise pretended that she didn't notice. She remained in his hold, hoping that his guard would come down just a little bit more.

"Fine." He folded his arms over his chest, staring at Cerise with watery, determined eyes. "She doesn't love me. Will you please let her go?"

"No."

"Why are you even doing this?" Drake said, his eyes on the knife.

The knife moved a little closer from her neck, Cerise wanted to let out a relieved gasp, but kept her lips pursed. She wanted to move her arms, but knew that doing so would only ruin her chances of escaping. Just a little more space and she could free herself once and for all from this monster.

"Because I love her! I gave her up, because I hated myself! I loathed myself! I did something back in Alberta that I can never forgive myself of! But even with all of that, I still want her back! I was a fool to let her go, I love her!"

"You don't know a thing about love." Drake stated, taking another subtle step forward. His eyes shifted to Cerise, a knowing look passed between them, if but for a mere half-second. "This isn't love, Nathan, this is lust! You crave her, desire her, but you don't know a damn thing about what it means to love her!"

"I loved her for years," his arms began to tighten, the knife was moving back towards her throat. Cerise knew that if she didn't do something now, her chances were gone. He would kill her; she heard the darkness in his tone. "She's mine."

"Not anymore." Cerise whispered before throwing her head back, using all of her strength to bludgeon his nose. "Now!" She screamed, pushing out of his stunned, frozen grasp.

Drake rushed forward, his fist aimed for Nathan's jaw.

Cerise spun to the side, her heart pounding in her chest. Standing, she saw that they'd underestimated Nathan completely. The blow to his face had been enough to free her, but not enough to throw him completely off balance.

The knife in his hand, which had been at her throat, was now poised to enter Drake's heart.

Drake was tough, but Nathan was by far stronger. Although the punch that Drake had thrown at Nathan's nose had hurt him, her ex-boyfriend wasn't fazed enough. He was closing in the gap between them, his knife in hand.

Someday, I hope I can show you that same love in return Drake, she'd thought once, after all he'd always been there for her. A smile came to her face as she knew this was her one, final time to show that love to him. She'd always been the selfish one, but that would change now.

She saw the pointed, shining blade coming at Drake, who hadn't yet noticed.

In the one second, which felt like a lifetime to her, she knew that she did love Drake. Even enough to die for him.

Leaping in-between them, she blocked the knife from stabbing Drake with her own body. Pain exploded in her chest as the blade, meant for her greatest friend, dug deep into her chest.

Nathans's face, paled, when he saw who it was he'd knifed.

Drake cried from behind her, wrapping her falling body in his strong, comforting arms. Blood began to soak the front of her shirt, while the knife stuck out of her chest, buried up to the handle.

Nathan stood in the doorway, his hand covered in the blood of the woman he wanted. "No... no... no!" He retreated backwards, staring at Cerise with wide, horrified eyes. Shaking his head, he pointed at her, tears gushing down his face. "That wasn't meant for you." He turned around, stole one last glance and ambled out of the house.

On the stairs, Cerise could hear her parents running down them. Her mother saw her first, her anguished, horrified screams reaching her ears. It hurt more than the blade in her chest.

Drake was on the ground, her head resting on his lap. Staring down at her, his face a mask of sorrow and pain, he kept pressure on her chest. Only, it did very little to stop the blood from gushing out of the gaping, jagged wound.

"Call 911!" He shouted in a hoarse, desperate voice. "CALL THEM NOW!" His mouth opened into a moan, as he held the one girl who had ever truly loved him back.

Cerise, who was staring up at her friend with a smile, reached out to his face, stroking it gently. Her fingers traced his stubble-covered jaw, while their eyes met. For the first time, she could imagine staring at those eyes for the remainder of her life.

His mouth opened into another throaty roar, before he stared at her, blubbering away shamelessly. Her dad was on the phone, shouting at the 911 receiver that his only daughter was dying.

Her mother, staring at her with a love-filled gaze, held her other hand tightly. She had no words to say, only tears and cries of agony.

Cerise felt herself growing cold as she tried to voice her final words. "I know I've been a terrible friend..." she gasped out, the knife in her chest digging deeper with every word. She stared up at Drake, determined to finish her sentence as his moans quieted and he soaked in her every word with pleading, tear-filled eyes.

"But I want you to know that I really do love you. More than a family member, more than a lover, more than..." she faded out, coughing up blood, "more than myself. I love you Drake—my only regret is that you didn't know sooner."

Then, in the strangest of moments, there was nothing.

Drake stared down at her, stroking her frozen, smiling face.

He wept.

Chapter Twenty Six

______________________

A light breeze sent a pack of leaves flying down the sidewalk, bumping into Steven.

Light, puffy clouds raced across a blue sky, tinted pink and red by a rising sun.

Staring at a house, Steven kept his hands in his pocket, sweat gathering on his face. He felt clammy around his armpits, while his stomach tingled with nausea that usually accompanied excitement and nervousness.

He was going to see Julia.

Biting his lower lip, tearing off dry skin with his teeth, he wondered if he had the nerves to knock on that door. Undoubtedly, he would wake up Julia's parents, who would likely be sleeping in the early morning.

However, Steven had little choice on leaving the motel room at such a time. True to his word, he left at around five in the morning, taking his bags with him. His back ached from the uncomfortable, tough mattress.

Julia's words to him had haunted him all night, as he tossed and turned. Finally, after fruitless hours of lying on his bed, he went into the shower and rinsed off for nearly forty minutes. He leaned against the wall on his bare back, folded his arms over his shoulder and let the steaming water pour down his body.

He'd been lost in thought, while the hallucinations temporarily wore off.

When he stepped outside of the shower, facing yet another mirror that refused to show his reflection, he could see Julia sitting in the corner. She waved at him, her face stuck in an amiable grin. "You're finally going to see me, I can't wait." She'd stood up, coming towards him with an oddly seductive grin on her face.

Admiring his unclothed body, she reached for the straps on her own dress.

"Julia." His eyebrows lowered.

But before the name left his lips, she'd already disappeared just like the condensation on the mirror.

The rest of the morning, he could hear his name being called, while seeing Julia, the living corpse and the glowing ball every minute or so. His head was pounding, while his heart was jumping in his chest like a caged animal.

On his cell phone, he saw that he had several missed texts from Jasper, Leanne and his uncle. Glancing casually at them, the only one that caught his attention was a short one from his uncle. It gave validation to the fears that when he returned home, his father would already be gone.

A sense of dread washed over him.

Steven had wanted so badly to go to Julia's house, but knew that he wouldn't be welcomed if he came so early in the morning. So he walked over to a nearby Tim Horton's, ordered a coffee, was about to order a bagel, but knew he hadn't the stomach for it.

He'd taken a seat in the lonely café, sipping his coffee and anticipating seeing Julia.

Even if she was on a hospital bed, stuck in a coma, it would mean the world to him. If he could but touch her arm, feel her soft, pale cheek—it would make the entire crazy trip worth it.

He remembered with a sorrowful smile how they'd discussed their plans for the following summer, when both of them were at camp, so naively planning the future.

Julia had been on one side of a picnic table, staring at him with a coy smile. In her hands, she held a leaf, which she slowly ripped into little pieces. She gathered them into a little pile on the red, peeling picnic table, stealing glances at Steven.

"Why are you doing that?" He asked with a bemused smile, studying the leaves in her hand.

"It helps me concentrate," she explained with a downcast look of her eyes. "I just need to do something, it makes me feel better." Her delicate, petite shoulders went up and down in a cute shrug. "Why don't you rip up leaves?"

"Maybe I will." He stooped behind him; picking up several leaves off the table. "There, some for you," he gave her two, grinning playfully, "the rest for me."

He began ripping the leaf with his fingers, finding that it actually was quite calming. Careful not to disturb the growing pile on the table, he placed the leaf fragments along with hers.

"So, what are your plans for the summer? When school comes to a close?"

"When we graduate?" She laughed, her tone relaxing and becoming more carefree. They'd only been friends for two days, and it was taking her a while to warm up to him. Though she'd been the one who'd come up to him first, it was him that would deepen their friendship into something more.

"Yes, when we graduate." He placed a torn up leaf on her pile, watching the little pieces stir in the light breeze.

"I want to be a councilor at camp, actually. I'd love to work with kids." Her brilliant, turquoise eyes met his. "You?"

"I was thinking that I would like to travel during the summer. Before school starts in the fall, maybe go somewhere exotic, but not some generic, tropical place that people vacation at. I'd like to go somewhere that no one's gone to before."

"Antarctica?"

"You are a reader of minds." He shifted on the hard bench, stretching out his legs closer to hers. "No, actually, I was thinking of going to Taiwan. Or New Zealand. One of the islands in the Pacific. I don't know what I'd do there, or who I'd go with, but it would be so much fun."

Her chubby, small fingers began to play with the pile of leaf pieces, forming them into a shape. Her face, which was fixed into a smile, morphed into a frown. Nearby, two girls were staring at Steven and casting furtive, intrigued glances.

Steven didn't really notice.

"I'd go with you." Her toes bumped against his.

He bumped them back, tilting his head to the side. "Would you? I'd like that."

"Are you sure," she cast another glance at the girls nearby. "Why would you want to go with me?" The leaf fragments were slowly morphing into a shape that caused Steven's heart rate to pick up a little.

"Because," he swallowed nervously, his foot still resting against hers. "I like you."

"Oh."

He was sure now, that the pieces of leaves had formed a heart. Staring at it, they both broke out into nervous chuckles; he glanced into the dark, cloud-covered sky, while she stared right at him. Their eyes met, he tapped her leg lightly with his foot.

"Oh?"

"I meant to say, 'I like you too'."

In that moment, Steven knew that coming to that camp had been a decision that would change his life. Sitting across from him, he knew, was a girl that he would gladly wait a year to see, even more if life demanded that patience of him.

Funny, how much could change in a month.

Now, he was standing in front of that girl's house, filled with coffee and trembling lightly. What was he so scared of? Of course, he was worried that her parents wouldn't let him see her, but more than that, he was worried about what he would see. He imagined a cut up, disfigured and bleeding girl. Would he love her, even if she was like that?

He hoped he would, yet doubt had him hesitating.

Only one way to find out. Taking in a deep breath, removing his hands from his pocket, he took several steps across their lawn, up towards the humble, brown-painted bungalow. Although he would never say it was a pretty home, it was far from being like the dilapidated, shambling houses that shared the same street.

On the front door, a little sign read: "You're in the Ryte place", underneath the words was a cute little carving of a family of four, most likely the work of Julia's younger brother Caleb. He smiled, enjoying how they used their last name as a play on words.

It was a Wednesday, just a few minutes past seven in the morning; surely the household would be awake by now. Knocking on the plain, wooden door, he held his breath and waited for whoever it would be to welcome him inside.

Or chase him away.

An old man answered the door, wearing a bathrobe, loose pajamas and bed-head hair. With a grimace, he took a white toothbrush out of his mouth, swallowed and leaned against the doorway. His deep set eyes, with red, puffy skin surrounding them, were as unwelcoming as a slammed door. With a sigh, his bony shoulders fell. "You aren't Erika." Turning around, toothbrush in hand, he slammed the door shut.

Steven flinched, "Mr. Ryte!" He rapped on the door with his bare knuckles. Nothing happened for the longest time, inside, he could hear footsteps and muttered curses. Something fell over inside the house, crashing onto the floor. "Mr. Ryte! I need to see Julia! Please, it's an emergency!"

He waited outside, wrapping his arms across his chest to keep warm in the cool breeze.

"Please—" Before he could say anymore, the door flung open and a now dressed older man stood in the doorway. Instead of a bathrobe and pajamas, he wore faded jeans and a wrinkled, plaid work-shirt. His eyes, still red and swollen, were now studying Steven with curiosity. "I'm sorry, is this a bad time?"

He ignored the question, a deep frown sitting on his face. "Who are you?"

"I'm Steven Walker, a friend of Julia's."

This caused the man's bushy eyebrows to shoot up his creased, lined brow. A shadow passed over his face. "How... how did you know Julia?"

Steven had been wondering how he would answer that very question all morning. Smiling, his heart fluttering with nervousness, his mind running with questions, he answered honestly. Sort of. "We met at camp in Alberta; I was just stopping by on my road trip to see how she's doing. Is it alright if I see her?" He pretended that he wasn't aware she was in a hospital bed, plugged into a machine.

"At camp? Have you been in contact with her recently?"

"No. I thought I would surprise her."

"I see," the man glanced at the floor, his frown stretching across his face. Staring back at Steven, he gave a little nod. "She's not at home, I'm afraid. I'm her father by the way, Brandon Ryte." He didn't extend a hand. Instead, he grabbed his jacket, which was draped over the back of a nearby couch. "I can take you to her, if you'd like."

"I'd like that." He smiled, found it wasn't returned and followed Mr. Ryte down the stairs. "How is she?"

He hesitated, "Resting." He fished a set of keys out of his jacket pocket. A small, beige car was sitting out on the road, which he told Steven was his ride. Getting into the driver's side, he unlocked the vehicle; Steven stepped inside the passengers' seat.

"Thanks for taking me to see her. I hope I didn't catch you at a bad time."

Mr. Ryte only stared straight ahead, putting the keys into the ignition. When they were out on the road, driving through the quiet, sleepy town, he spoke up. "I know who you are, Steven. Before the accident, Julia told me a little about you." The slightest of grins came to life on his face, yet it was short-lived. "Did you come here with your parents?"

"My mom passed away when I was younger, it's just me and my dad now." He really didn't want to have to lie to Mr. Ryte, so he hoped that would suffice as an answer.

"Seeing someone you love pass away is a difficult thing," he spun the wheel and turned the car down a narrow side street. Trees on either side of the road were shedding their leaves, which had taken on the colors of red, yellow and brown. The sun was now shining down on them, illuminating the street with brilliant rays of light. "When I lost my youngest daughter, it tore my family apart. I wasn't sure that I could ever love a child again, for I feared I would lose them too.

"When we adopted Julia, I realized that I was wrong." Tears were now falling down his face, wetting his work-shirt. "Bringing that sweet, smiling baby into our family was one of the greatest feelings in the world. I knew that I would give my life for her. Holding her in my arms, I promised her that I would always be there for her." Wiping his eyes, he pursed his lips and shook his head. "But I was wrong for making that promise. Sometimes, there's absolutely nothing you can do."

Steven only nodded his head, thinking about the accident. Opening his mouth, he forgot that he was pretending he was unaware of that happening. "Will be she alright?"

"Steven. I read your texts that you sent my daughter. I looked at her phone when she slipped into the coma." He turned the car onto a tight, two-lane road leading through black, iron gates. Steven was hardly paying any attention anymore; all he could do was listen to Mr. Ryte's shocking words.

"I know about the dreams," he wiped his red eyes, which were only swelling further. "She used to tell me when she was younger, then, as she grew, I began to realize they were true. She was so full of secrets though, so many, we loved one another, but she couldn't tell me anymore about those dreams. When I read your texts, I didn't believe it at first, how could I?

"Then, as read more," he broke down again, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. "Those dreams, Steven, can you really still talk with her? See her?" His eyes were bulging, while his tone was growing desperate and hopeful. "Do you?"

"Yes."

A silence filled the car as Mr. Ryte's jaw dropped, then clamped shut as he found a parking spot beside a truck. Turning off the car, he opened the door, stepped out and watched as Steven did the same. Instead of following him towards the field with trees and rolling hills, he stood on the pavement, shivering in the cold.

"Mr. Ryte? This isn't the hospital." Steven's eyes began to water while his heart plummeted into the darkest, deepest of depths. Trembling, he put a shaky foot forward, then another, willing himself to see what he was never prepared to see.

The breath was gone from him like wind from a sail.

Mr. Ryte put his hands in his jacket pocket, staring out at the field, which was covered in more than just trees and shrubs. In neat, long rows, gravestones popped out of the dying, yellow and brown grass. Leafs scuttled over the field, while a harsh, frigid wind blew more and more clouds over the sky.

"No. I couldn't tell you, Steven. When you came to my door, I knew I had to show you."

Steven just kept walking forward, off the pavement, closer to the tombstones. When he came to the curb, he stepped over it and onto the grass. His eyes were glued to the ground, unable to check the grave-markers for a name he thought he would never read in a place like this.

It was impossible.

He'd just seen her the previous night! She was alive! He'd held her in his arms, her frail, weak form melting into his. Turning around, he knew that Mr. Ryte had made a mistake. "Why are we here? Damn it! Why the hell are we here!? I want to see Julia!" He stormed towards Mr. Ryte, while his body began to tremble.

He tripped, fell and crashed onto the hard, rocky pavement.

Mr. Ryte ran to him, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder as Steven wept shamelessly. Great, terrible waves of sorrow and shock ran through his body, causing him to make unearthly, wretched moans.

The pain mounted, tearing into his heart and soul with sharp, jagged teeth.

He heard a whispering on the wind, entering his ears in a soothing, calming fashion. "I'm still here, Steven, just dream with me, my love." Getting to his feet, ignoring the blood soaking his pants from where he'd landed, he locked eyes with Mr. Ryte.

"She's still alive."

"Steven." He shut his eyes, letting out a tortured breath. "We buried her nearly two weeks ago. After the crash, she was barely alive. She slipped into a coma for a few days, but," he couldn't finish as tears of his own enveloped him. Sobbing, he had to stop every few words to let out a sob. "She just couldn't make it... she wanted to, the doctors said she fought... in the end... the monitors went blank... her pulse was gone... the doctors tried to revive her... but we already knew it was a pointless battle... we'd already said our goodbyes."

Steven glanced behind him, his hands clenching into fists. "I still dream with her, Mr. Ryte. She's still alive."

He walked towards the tombstones, away from Mr. Ryte.

"Steven!"

"Go away!" He turned around, a vicious scowl on his face. "I still see her! I still dream with her! I still love her!"

The wind was still blowing quite strongly, rustling leaves and loose pieces of grass in the lonely cemetery. An older woman, hobbling on her cane, stood at another row of tombstones, resting flowers atop a freshly dug grave.

Steven stood with his arms crossed, staring down at the headstone with that same mixture of sorrow and disbelief. How could that beautiful, amazing girl he'd just been kissing in his dreams, be the same one rotting away in the worm-ridden dirt?

Above him, the sun sent down warm, bright rays of light on the miserable cemetery. What was wrong with the sun? Didn't it know that this wasn't a happy time—that it should hide behind dark clouds, while the rain poured heavily? Didn't it know that it was only a mocking insult to him, shining so stubbornly when his world was darkening and crumbling?

"You can't be dead, Julia. You can't be." He knelt at her grave, putting his palm against the cool stone of the memorial. In the dark marble, he saw her name inscribed above an ominous date. Mr. Ryte wasn't lying.

He glanced over his shoulder to where Mr. Ryte was driving down the cemetery's road. He'd promised him that if he needed a place to stay, he was okay with him crashing for the night. However he was going to see his son and wife for the day.

Footfalls rustled the leaves to his side as a lone man approached Steven.

With teary eyes, Steven saw that it was Nicholas approaching. Or the Keeper, as he called himself.

"It looks like you got your wish, Keeper." Steven got to his feet, using the headstone to support his weakened legs. Wiping a few stray tears from his face, he glared at the monster. "She's dead. Now you can kill yourself and all the goddamn Dreamers will be dead! So do it! Kill yourself!"

The older woman continued to lay flowers at a grave.

The Keeper smirked, taking a few uneasy steps forward. "You act as though I have killed her, Steven. I did no such thing."

"You were going to! That's why you're here, right? Or are you going to kill me now just because I know too much? What is it, Keeper? Why are you here?" Steven took a few steps forward, swallowing down his fear. He'd gone through too much to be chased away by a deluded madman.

"I am sorry for you loss, Steven." The Keeper lost his smirk, replacing it with a frown. "It is necessary that she died, but I am sorry for your pain. Unfortunately this needed to happen."

"So your wife could be alive again? Why damn it? How do you know that you have all the Dreamers anyways?" Steven was only a few meters away from the man.

"I did this for everyone, Steven! For my wife and for my son." He stared intensely at Steven, his breath quickening. "But I still have one more Dreamer to dispose of. Julia's twin brother. You might know who he is."

"A twin brother?"

However, before his eyes, the Keeper dissolved into nothingness. Where the Keeper had stood, all he could now see was thin air. "Keeper?" He walked to where the man had been standing, seeing that he was now gone.

Or that he had never actually been there to begin with.

He needed to get home.

He walked slowly away from the grave, looking back only once to stare at the haunting reminder. Forcing himself to move ahead, he started jogging down the road, trying to escape the pounding voices in his head.

There was nothing for him here.

He started to run.

Chapter Twenty Seven

________________________

Drake rubbed his red, swollen eyes, while he sat in the hospital's waiting room. Beside him, Cerise's mom sat down, her face buried in her hands. Her father, wearing the same haggard, miserable expression they all wore, paced back and forth.

They'd been waiting since the previous night and all of the day.

Drake glanced at the clock on the white, glaring wall, seeing that it was nearly seven o'clock in the PM. Resting back in the hard, plastic chair, he tried not to think about the events that had taken place last night. Especially Cerise's final words to him, which had played in his mind nearly a million times now.

Sighing, he excused himself and went over to one of the drink machines. His throat, dry and scratchy from not having drunk something that whole day, rejoiced when he bought a can of iced tea. Opening the cool, chilling can, he tipped nearly half of its contents down his throat, chugging it desperately.

A doctor entered the waiting room, glancing at Drake, before honing in on the weary couple. In a quiet, yet firm tone, he heard the words he'd been dreading to hear all day. The can of iced tea fell from his grip, landing on the floor and spilling out onto the shiny, blue tiles.

Cerise's mother began to weep, while her husband put his arm around her, holding her close. Drake only stood close by, unable to comprehend that his greatest fears had been realized.

The doctor's words rang through his head: "Severely injured... critical condition... nothing more... strong will to live... not enough... I'm so sorry." The doctor's pained, grey eyes met Drake's, saying much more then practiced words could ever convey.

Taking a seat on the cool, uncomforting plastic chair, Drake wept.

Softly at first, then it turned into a full-throated groan as he knew the one woman he'd ever loved was taken from his life. Taken, not because she'd been a victim, but instead, his savior. It should've been him who'd taken that knife to his chest—it should've been him.

Falling to his knees, he pleaded with whoever was the writer of history to go back, scribble out his past sentences and write them anew. Cerise couldn't die. How could she? What wrong had she done? What madness could ever dictate this happening?

"It should've been me!" Drake lifted his face to the harsh, bright ceiling and collapsed onto the tiled floor. Shamelessly, unconcerned with how pitiful he now appeared, he pressed his face against the chilled floor. Tears ran down his face, pooling on the ground.

For the first time in his life, he regretted that someone had loved him back.

Getting off the floor, he tried to regain his composure. He followed after Cerise's parents down the brightly lit hallway to a pair of locked doors. The security guard allowed them entrance and the door unlocked.

He shuffled behind them, staring absent mindedly at the nurses and doctors walking quickly in the enclosed, busy emergency room. Along the wall were 'rooms' with curtain walls providing privacy to the moaning or sleeping patients. This was not a place where one would hopefully stay long, before they were given to a room where recovery was in a more peaceful, soothing setting.

To Drake, this place was hell.

When they passed by the curtain rooms, they were led to another room where Cerise lay in her bed. Asleep. Only, she wasn't breathing. Everything about her, however, was as though she were merely resting after her surgery.

Drake went to the foot of her bed, staring at her beautiful, pale face.

Her parents went to the side of her bed, her mom bawling, and father holding her close. He could hear footsteps sounding down the hall as more family entered the room. A nurse asked Drake if he was family, and then ushered him out of the room.

Gingerly, he put a hand on Cerise's foot, touching it lightly.

"Thank you," he whispered. A tear slid down his scarred face.

He followed the nurse out of the room, back past the curtained rooms and back into the crowded emergency room. As construction was still on-going in the hospital, he was led down a meandering route through the hospital back to his car.

As the sun was starting to set, he drove home.

Driving in his car, he held the wheel tightly, trying to swallow down the emotions bubbling in his chest. Anger. Hate. Sadness. Grief.

By the time he'd made it home, he was exhausted by his own emotions. He parked his car in the driveway, saw that his parents still weren't home, and went inside.

He hung up his coat and took off his shoes.

In his pocket, he could feel his phone vibrating. He took it out of his pocket, turning on the gadget. His parents were texting him, letting him know they were delayed from returning to the city and wouldn't be home until much later that night.

Drake frowned, putting the phone back in his pocket.

A part of him wanted to be alone, another craved someone to come to his side and talk to him. Perhaps he would call up one of his friends from school and see if they were busy.

Before he could get his phone, he heard a knock at the door.

Turning around, he opened the door.

The first thing he saw was the barrel of a gun pointed at his face. The door was shoved open, pushing Drake out of the way.

He took a few steps back, freezing when the safety of the gun was clicked off. "You."

"I'm sorry, Drake."

A bead of sweat formed on his forehead. Folding his arms over his chest, he took in a deep, trembling breath. "So, you've come to finish what you started?"

Their little, yellow taxi drove at break-neck speeds along Winnipeg's busiest streets. It swerved in and out of lanes, accelerated through yellow lights that might've been red and slammed hard, veering around corners. The driver chattered away excitedly, glancing behind him at his solemn, miserable passenger. In the trunk, his bags could be heard bumping around.

Steven, who'd asked the taxi driver to quickly take him to Health Sciences Center from Winnipeg International Airport, held onto the car door for dear life. Drops of sweat ran down his face, while he prayed to a god he didn't believe in.

He'd just gotten the text from his grandma when he was stepping outside of the airport. Bags in tow, greeted by a warmer, yet still cool Winnipeg wind, he heard his phone chirping in his pocket. Taking it out, he immediately answered when he saw who the caller was.

"Oh thank God, Steven! Why weren't you answering before?" Her voice was laced in fear and anxiety. Being a calmer woman, he knew that if she was this distressed, something horrible had taken place.

He thought of his dying father.

"I was on a plane, sorry." He paused, gulping nervously. "Is he?"

"Alive. He's still alive, Steven. But it isn't looking good, the seizures are just getting worse; everyone's here." On her end of the line, he heard muted and hushed voices. A sob echoed in the room she was in. Someone spoke his name. "Are you in Winnipeg? You need to get over here as soon as possible."

Breathing a sigh of relief, he said he would get there as soon as he could. Was it great news? No. Still, Steven had been wondering if he would get one last time to say goodbye to the man who'd raised him. Clenching his eyes, he fought off the tears that desperately wanted to escape their confines.

Once he'd gotten a taxi, he asked the man to drive as fast as he could to Health Sciences Center. At first, he'd been reluctant, saying that he would do his best, but he couldn't go too fast. Steven explained the situation, handed him more money.

Sighing, the driver refused the money, nodded his head and told him to strap in.

Then they were racing through Winnipeg's West End.

Steven glanced out the window, watching skyscrapers, businesses, restaurants and houses fly past.

"Did you hear about what happened in Transcona?" The driver was shaking his head. "Aye, what is this world coming to? I wouldn't be surprised if it had taken place in the North End or Downtown, but in that district? Doesn't make sense."

Steven perked up at the mention of Transcona, where he lived. The small, outlying district of Winnipeg had been his home for his entire life. It was a sleepier, yet growing suburban area that had once been completely set apart from the city. However, as the city and Transcona grew, they had merged into one.

"What happened?"

"Someone was stabbed, I believe the victim might've survived, though I can't really recall. Shook the entire community. She was quite young too, and her murderer a very disturbed young man. Still, can you believe that someone would do that there?"

Steven only frowned. "What was the victim's name?"

"Withheld." His dark eyes stared at Steven's through the rear-view mirror, and then filled with a knowing look. "Ah, you live in Transcona, don't you?"

"Yes."

Steven closed his eyes, hoping that the man would just be quiet.

The voices in his head were loud enough as it was.

His pounding, breaking heart couldn't take another beating.

He just hoped he could get to the hospital in time for one last goodbye.

Steven was too late.

By the time he'd raced through the hospital hallways, up the elevator and to his father's room, his family was already leaving.

He jogged down the hall, his eyes widening when he saw his grandmother step out of the room. Tears were running down her wrinkled, gaunt countenance. On wobbly legs, she put her coat over her frail shoulders, her husband coming behind her. The two hugged. Then wept.

Their son had passed away.

Steven approached them, knowing full well what had happened, but unable to reconcile that fact with how he was feeling. Inside, there was still a flicker of hope lit inside of him. The tiny flame continued to warm him from the inside out. His father wouldn't pass away before saying his final goodbyes.

More of his family poured out into the hall. His uncle, dry faced and hugging his mom, was the first to see Steven. His eyes fell, filled with disappointment and pain. Pushing through the crowd of relatives, he walked up to Steven, his frown growing.

"Steven, I'm so sorry." Standing there, he took his nephew in his arms, holding him tightly. "You can still see him, if you want. But—well, he passed away ten minutes ago. I'm so sorry, Steven. He... asked for you."

Steven pushed himself backwards, away from his uncle. "He asked for me?"

His uncle's eyes began to water.

Other relatives were now staring at Steven, all their expressions covered in the same sorrow that his uncle had communicated. His grandmother was the first to speak up, her downcast eyes unable to meet Steven's. "You can still see him." Shuffling towards Steven, she gave him a flimsy, weak hug.

Saying nothing in return to the numerous words from his family, he pushed through them, past the doorway and into the bright, yet awfully dark hospital room. This time, his father was the only patient inside. Two nurses stood around the bed, waiting for the family to file out before preparing his father's body for that final, eternal rest.

Backing away from the bed, the nurses kept silent as Steven focused in on his father.

Lying in the hospital bed, still covered in sheets and blankets, he imagined that his eyes would flicker open. He would pull the sheets off, staring at his son with a loving, sorrowful gaze. A chuckle would escape his lips, he'd comment on the austerity of the room, and then wrap his arms around his son.

Steven would return the hug, telling him that he was so sorry for coming late. Then he'd help his father out of the bed, removing the tubes and machines from his body. He would grab for him his coat and shoes. They'd plan on going out for supper, probably a steakhouse, and then perhaps go see a movie. Afterwards they'd go to a café, and just talk for hours. Steven would tell him all about the dreams, his father would understand, and tell him he did the right thing.

They'd sip their beverages. Eat their pastries. Drive home. Go back to life. Steven wouldn't dream anymore, his father would fight off the last remnants of his cancer. He would apologize to Cerise. Hang out with Leanne and Jasper. Treasure life more, since he now knew how fleeting and short it was.

However, no such thing happened.

His father didn't stir from his sleep. Instead, his lifeless corpse lay on the hospital bed, unmoving when Steven knelt beside him, taking his cold, stiff hand in his own.

Tears came to his eyes, falling down his face, while he shook his head, clamping his jaw shut.

"No... no... no! Goddamn it! You're supposed to be alive! NO!" He let go of his father's hand, felt a reassuring hand on his back. One of the nurses was behind him, telling him that everything was alright. His father's suffering was over; he was now finally at peace, no longer in pain.

Steven didn't have the strength to respond to that.

"I'm so sorry, Dad... I'm so sorry. I just wish I could've said goodbye one last time." He laid his head on his chest, wishing more than anything that his father would stroke his hair, telling him that it was fine.

Only, he knew his father would never speak again.

There would be no comforting words from his mouth.

He was gone.

For now, and always, would he only live on in his memories. Steven let go of his father's hand, forcing himself to leave his father's bedside.

"Thanks for everything." A last tear rolled down his face, he let it fall down and splash on the ground below. At the doorway, family members came back into the room, gathering around the hospital bed.

Steven opened his mouth, singing in a broken, shattered voice his father's favorite hymn. The words flowed into the room, swirling around in a beautiful tune.

His uncle met Steven's eyes, he smiled, nodded his head. Opening his mouth, he too began to sing along. Others added their voices, filling the grief-stricken room with song. The nurses at the side of the room stood with their hands clasped in front, eyes filled with tears.

By the chorus, the entire family was singing, Steven leading them at the top of his lungs. His voice strong, yet his entire body shaking.

As the song ended, Steven knew that his father had listened to every word.

And he was smiling.

As he sang along.

A slight tremor shot up through Steven's arm. Noises, most of them quiet and eerie whispers were beginning to crowd his mind. While he was driven back to his home, he could feel the voices growing stronger, calling out his name and other strange, vague words. None of it made sense, except for the one thing the voices kept repeating over and over: 'enter our dreams'.

The oft repeated phrase grew louder, stronger. It pounded in his head like a tympani drum. His head rested against the window, the cool glass providing some relief from the auditory affliction. Beside him, his bags sat on the car seats, reminding him of his sorrowful, revelatory trip to Edmonton.

And to think, only a month ago his only concerns were about seeing Julia that next summer and what he would do the following year. Now? Now, he was lucky if he even got to see next year, not to mention tomorrow.

Already, he could feel himself slowly, but surely slipping into the dreams.

The short reprieve from the hallucinations had proved only to be the calm before the storm.

His grandpa, who was driving the car next to his grandma, pulled the small, red car onto his street. Steven's eyes drifted to Cerise's house, where he was shocked to see police tape around her entire yard. A squad car was parked on her driveway, where two policewomen were standing, talking to one another.

"Cerise?" As they slowly drove past her house, he kept his eyes locked on the police officers, who were laughing and talking away. Then at the police tape that blocked off a front yard that he distinctly remembered playing in with Cerise when they were younger. A tall, dying oak tree sat in the middle of the yard, where he and Cerise had once climbed to the top of.

He took out his phone, seeing that he didn't have a response from his good friend.

His heart pounding, he refused to believe that she'd been the victim of the stabbing his taxi driver had spoken of. Even if she was, he wouldn't accept it. There was only so much pain and grief someone could take before they were overwhelmed.

The car pulled up into their driveway, coming to a stop beside his house. Steven took his bags, stepped out of the car and thanked his grandparents for driving him home. He thought of his own car, and remembered that his uncle had offered to drive it back to his house.

"We're just going to go out for coffee," his grandpa said with a bleak, forced smile. "Do you want to come with us?"

"No," Steven pulled his bags behind him, heading towards the front door. "I just need to be alone."

"Okay." He looked like he wanted to say more, but he didn't. Getting back into his car, he drove down the driveway, watching Steven amble up the sidewalk to his front door. His bags followed in tow, dragging on the snow and ice-covered concrete.

Before stepping inside his house, he looked over his shoulder, down the street, towards his old friend's house. Another car was pulling up near the squad car, while the stars overhead came out for their nighttime shift. He saw four people step out of the car, two of them holding one another, their cries reaching all the way to where Steven stood.

The third person came out, their arms wrapped around the fourth person. He squinted, trying to discern who they were, but couldn't tell in the growing darkness. Turning away, his heart and chest numb from the overwhelming pain, he unlocked the front door, turned the knob and went inside.

Dropping his bags on the living room floor, Steven stumbled down the hall towards his room. Without bothering to turn on any lights, he made his way down the dark hall, up the stairs, and then turned down the narrow hall towards his room.

"Steven... dream with us... Steven... Steven!" The voices were shivering, quaking as they shouted at him, and swarming his mind angrily. "Steven!" This time, the shrill voice belonged to Julia.

His downcast eyes looked upwards, towards a figure standing at the end of the hall. Julia. Shuffling down the carpeted walkway, she cried out his name, her familiar voice oddly soothing and terrifying all at once.

Steven stopped midway down the hall, flicked on the light so he could get a better look at Julia. "Is it really you?" In the warm, soft light that was provided from overhead, Steven saw that it truly was her. Dressed in a gorgeous, tight blue dress, she held open her arms, staring at him with intoxicatingly turquoise, gorgeous eyes.

"Of course." Smiling, she took one more step closer, before Steven had swept her up in his arms. He couldn't even begin to describe how amazing it was to hold her in his arms, to feel her loving, incredible touch.

"I thought you were dead, oh Julia, they showed me your grave! I couldn't believe it, I just couldn't! I knew you had to be alive! Even if it's only in the dreams!" He was blubbering now, while she pressed herself snugly against his shuddering form. "I just knew you were alive! I knew it. After everything that's gone wrong, everything... my father died. I just can't handle it anymore, to lose you as well, I couldn't do it!"

"I'm here Steven, it's okay. I'm here."

Water began to flood the carpet they were standing on. It ran over his toes, rising up his jean-clad legs. Behind the embracing couple, a glowing ball of light shone brightly, encompassing the two in its blinding, hot radiance.

Steven let go of Julia, taking a moment to stare at her gorgeous, stunning face. "I have so much to tell you, Julia. So much has happened. But I know that I can't give you up, never. I love you, Julia. I love you so much. Even if that means giving all of this up."

He saw the water gathering around his knees, felt the warm liquid soaking his pants and skin. "What?" He then noticed the ball of light behind Julia, growing larger and larger.

Julia ignored both the light and the water, pulling closer to Steven. "What's wrong, Steven? There's nothing to be afraid of. This is simply the end, your last moments before you enter the dreams forever. Why are you shaking? Isn't this what you wanted?" Her tone was losing its seductive, comforting feel. Instead, she grabbed his arm forcefully.

Steven couldn't stop staring at the ball of light, while the voices were now screaming in his mind. The water rose higher, now up to his waist, as it flooded his entire house.

"No... you aren't Julia. This isn't right." He looked down at his arm, which was firmly in her grasp. To his horror, he noticed that it was beginning to fade away. Slowly, he could see right through it, as if he were a ghost. "No, what's happening?"

"This is what you wanted, Steven. I don't understand. I thought that reality was too painful, that you wanted me?" Julia grabbed his other arm, smiling at him with white, pearly teeth, moved in for a kiss. "I thought you loved me?"

"No," Steven pulled his head back, the voices growing louder and louder.

The water was now up to his chest, while the woman before him was not the same one he'd fallen in love with in Alberta. She was just like the hooded figure—false, imagined. The real Julia, the one he'd promised to love forever wasn't her. That Julia was still trapped in the dreams, unaware that she was really six feet under in a cemetery in Camrose.

He had to let her go.

"Let me go!" Steven yanked harder, but her grip was like iron. However, in the lit up water, he could see that her hands were now skeletal. "Ah!" He shouted, finally freeing himself from the monster that stood before him.

The decay was spreading all over her body, transforming the once beautiful girl into a putrefying, rotten corpse. Her dress now hung around her neck in tattered, frayed patches, while her skin was dissolving, leaving only bone and rot in its place.

A once elegant, attractive face had become a rotten, disfigured skull. Her eyes empty sockets, and mouth only a wasted, bony jaw.

Steven turned away, horrified at the transformation.

"What is wrong, Steven?"

Everything was wrong—how could he fool himself any longer?

However, he was beginning to understand that it was too late now. The water was at his mouth, trying to claw its way down his throat. His body, which he could still see under the brightly lit waters, had all but faded away.

"Dream with us," the voices chanted, swirling in his head like a tornado. "Dream with us."

Steven closed his eyes, opened his mouth and swallowed the warm, sugary water. His heart thundered in his chest, while burning, horrible pain sliced up and down his quickly vanishing body.

All around him he could feel the water wrapping him in its warm embrace.

Julia was gone.

His eyes snapped open.

Ahead of him, he could see that he was back on the sandy, ocean floor. Or lake floor, he couldn't be sure, as above him the water simply clouded up, so that the surface was hidden from him.

Just as before, he could breathe in the water with ease. "Hello?" His voice carried smoothly through the water. "Julia! Hello?" He took a few steps forward, moving slowly and awkwardly through the water.

"Hello, Steven." A voice answered him this time—it was the living corpse. Or gunman. Or hooded figure. The mysterious, shape-shifting figure had done very little to reveal who he really was.

Steven was tiring of mysteries and secrets.

"Who are you?"

The figure was in the form of the man that had killed his mother, the same ripped hoodie obscuring his face. Stepping confidently towards Steven, he took the gun from his pocket, tossing it on the seashore. "No more games, Steven. I have warned you over and over in as many ways as I could. These dreams are not for you."

Steven sized up the figure, balling his hand into a fist. "Then who are you?"

The hooded man slowly began to transform into a long-haired, green eyed boy about his own age. With a wry smile, he put out his hand. "Markus Anderson."

Steven's eyes widened, as he took his hand and shook it limply. "Markus?"

"I don't have long, especially in this form. So say nothing and listen. These Oceans are escapable Steven. They are a choice. If you can let go of Julia, you can save yourself a fate much worse than death. Trust me. The Oceans are hell, and it has taken all my strength to contact you all these times. But you must stop Nicholas West from killing Drake. You must stop him. He thinks he will free us, but he doesn't realize how many other Dreamers there are out there. Thousands. And growing. You must stop Nicholas from killing Drake. You must stop yourself from entering these Oceans. Let her go, damn it. Let her go!"

Steven simply gawked at Markus—only one question going through his mind. "Why help me?"

"Because we're on the same side." Markus winked, and grabbing Steven's hand, squeezed as hard as he could. "Now go! And remember: We are all slaves to what we give power to." He let go of his hand.

Steven could feel himself falling.

Around him, the water gave way to a darkening sky. Below him, was a driveway, leading up to a house with a door wide open. Sopping wet, he dragged himself up to his feet. Breathing hard, he knew what had to be done.

The Keeper would die.

Chapter Twenty Eight

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"I am truly sorry, Drake." Nicholas stood in the doorway to Drake's home, an arm extended forward. With a sorrowful smile, he lowered the gun to the floor. Sweat ran down his face, while sweat soaked his shirt near the armpits. He wiped his forehead, as Drake watched him.

"You're Nicholas, aren't you?" Drake remembered the note that his father had written him, which he was directed to read at the age of ten. The note that explained that he wasn't to kiss anyone or fall in love, lest he pass on his dreaming curse to them. It explained that he was more than human. It explained that a man was hunting for both him and his twin sister—Julia. He was told to never look for her, but to remain in the city he was born in, until someone came to him, letting him know that all was safe.

His father was Thomas Newman.

"I am." Nicholas heaved a sigh, his eyes darkening. "You know that I don't want to do this, Drake. But we're both very dangerous creatures—we can't continue to live. You're the last Dreamer left, Drake. Well, except for me. Don't worry though, once you're dead, so will I be." He raised his gun, and then lowered it back to the floor.

Drake thought of his twin sister. Wherever she was. Would he still kill him if he knew that she was alive? Could she be a bargaining chip? Of course, he couldn't pull her into this; no. If Nicholas shot himself, then his sister would finally be safe.

"Well just shoot me already, then." Drake muttered, than remembered that horrific day when the man had ruined their lives. He'd set their house on fire, shooting his mother as well. It was the day his face had burned, the flames disfiguring him.

Nicholas would know about Julia.

Rage ignited in his heart. "Did you kill her as well?"

"I hunted for you both, Drake. I swept the entire nation and much farther, killing all the Dreamers that I knew of. Your father hid you well though. Not well enough unfortunately for you. He attacked me once—but he failed. I overcame him, found his journal, which he burned half of. It still led me to you Drake, to Winnipeg. Julia, I'm afraid, died in an accident. A car crash in Alberta."

The Keeper raised his gun once more. "I did my research and used your father's journal to narrow down who you were to two candidates. Unfortunately, I could do nothing until I knew where your sister was." His eyes misted over, tears building in the corner of his eyes. "I didn't want any of this, Drake. However, I will do all I can to make right what we have done."

"Did you kill the other candidate as well?"

The Keeper frowned, "He wasn't a Dreamer. But you are." He cocked his pistol.

Drake closed his eyes, fear coursing through his veins.

His finger slid to the trigger.

"Please don't do it." Was all he whispered in defense.

"Forgive me, Drake." The Keeper took a steadying breath and pulled the trigger. Twice.

The first shot entered Drake's chest, throwing him back—the next entered right through his right eye. He fell backwards, his heavy body crashing on the floorboards.

"Only one bullet left." Nicholas put the gun to his head, muttering to himself. "I love you Brianne."

A knock at the door stopped his finger from pulling the trigger.

While he no longer saw the once mysterious Markus Anderson in his hallucinations, he was now plagued by visions of Julia.

Each step he took towards the front door of Drake's house was an achievement of strength. His head swam with a chorus of a thousand voices, all screaming at him to give into the dreams. Chanting. Urging. Mocking him.

"No... No!" He clamped his eyes shut, looking away from a vision of Julia hanging from a tree in the front yard. Another Julia sat on the front steps, her eyes fiery and turquoise. In her hands was a bottle of pills. Opening her mouth, she tossed back all the pills, swallowing them as tears ran down her face.

"Oh god! No! No!" He shook his head, falling to his knees.

Ahead of him, he saw the door half-open.

Straining his ears, he could hear the deep, commanding voice of the Keeper. There was another, muted voice inside as well—it had to be Drake.

Water began to gather underneath him, pooling around his knees. He turned his head, noticing that the entire neighborhood was flooding. The streets, backyards, and driveways were submerged by nearly a foot of water.

Getting back to his feet, he tried to escape the surging water. However, the water was climbing fast, until he was swimming to the front door of Drake's home. Using all his strength, he cut through the warm water, gasping for breath.

Under him, he could feel hands pulling at his feet.

"No!" The water was now over the roof of the house. Steven dove below the surface, staring at the open door ahead of him. With his arms extended, he grabbed the door with one hand, and pounded on it with his other hand.

Just as his knuckles hit the door, everything went dark.

The voices were gone.

The water was gone.

His consciousness was gone.

Chapter Twenty Nine

_______________________

Endless kilometers of salty, warm ocean water lay above Steven. What was once sweet, sugary and inviting, was now salty and bitter. Though it was still warm, he was quickly growing used to the temperature as it soon felt cool, stale and infinite.

No fish swam in these waters, nor could he see the sandy, seafloor. Instead, bobbing in a sea of eternally deep waters, he was utterly alone. Only, somewhere far and out of reach, there floated the glowing ball of light.

Swimming upwards, he stretched out his hand, hoping to simply touch the light. Just as a moth is drawn to a flame, so he was attracted to the mysterious, comforting ball of radiance.

However, he noticed that instead of growing larger the more he swam, it only seemed to recede. With every stroke of his arms and legs, the ball of light shrunk and shrunk.

"No!" His voice came out warbled and distorted. Warm, salty water gushed down his throat, causing him considerable pain. Unlike before, it now hurt to breathe in the water.

Exhaling, he closed his mouth.

Yet the urge to breathe was too strong and he forced himself to take in another breath.

Pumping his legs and arms, he kept staring at the ball of light, willing it to come to him. Swimming with all his might, he coursed upwards, yet never drew a centimeter closer to the luminous orb. Taking in a ragged breath, he dropped his arms to his side.

His muscles ached and groaned from the physical excess.

He started sinking back down, away from the light, away from any hope of escaping the waters. "What have I done?" He thought to himself, misery and loneliness descending on him like vicious predators. "What have I done? I don't want to dream! I don't want to dream! Please, if you can hear me," he stared up at the ball of light, pleading with it in a warbled, pained voice. "I want to leave! Please, get me out of here, I don't want to dream! I don't!"

All the light did in response was shimmer brightly, while it continued to drift away.

"No! Come back! Please! You have to come back!" He reached out one more time with his hands, stretching his fingertips towards the light. "I don't want to stay here. I was wrong, okay? I was wrong to want to dream again! I just want to leave!" Although he was sure the glowing ball of light was unable to respond, he continued to beg it, asking to be freed.

Freed of what though? He'd always known this was going to happen—entering the Oceans. Julia had warned him, Markus had warned him. This had been inevitable.

Steven shut his eyes; his hands began to fall back to his side.

There was nothing more he could do.

There was nothing left to say.

He looked around, seeing for the first that he was not alone in the vast Oceans. Far away—even farther than the glowing ball of light—were silhouettes of others floating in the water. Whether they were dead or alive, he couldn't know. From so far away, they merely appeared to be bodies. Already dead.

Just as the last remnants of hope fled his heart, as he began to sink farther and farther from the light, a hand broke the surface of the water. Delicate, thin fingers, attached to a long, pale arm dove into the water, found Steven's arm and wrapped around it. Pulling upwards, Steven's eyes snapped open.

The water, which had been warm, was now freezing cold. When his head broke the surface, all he could see was a dark, starry sky above him. Gasping for breath, coughing out buckets of water, he grabbed the hand that was around his arm.

"Steven! I have you, hold on," Julia's firm, reassuring voice hit his ears like a wet, passionate kiss.

Sputtering, he let go of Julia's arm, finding the edge of a metal canoe. His fingers clung to the edge, while he attempted to pull himself over.

The canoe started to tip as he put his full weight on the side of the craft. Julia cried out, trying to balance out the canoe before it completely tipped over. "Don't worry," he heaved himself half onboard, while his legs draped over the edge. Swinging those over, he plopped inside, sopping wet and freezing.

Shivering, he sat up in the canoe, trying to get back his breath. More water dripped from out of his mouth, down his chin and onto his utterly soaked shirt.

"Julia, dear God, what are you doing here?" He wondered if it really was her, but he couldn't tell in the dim light. "It is you, isn't it?" Drawing closer, he tentatively reached out his hand, stroking her face gently.

Her smooth, cool skin was familiar, comforting.

"Of course it's me," she laughed, her voice shaky and scared. "For a second, I thought I'd lost you for good." She reached out, taking his hand and holding it in her own. "What happened in Camrose? Did you see my family?"

Steven nodded his head, rubbing her hand soothingly. "I saw your father, but that's it. I didn't get to stay very long; I'm already back in Winnipeg."

"Well what happened? Is my father doing okay?"

"Your father's alright," although Steven didn't have the heart to tell her that her death had ripped the family apart. Her parents were separated, both of them seeking divorce.

"And me? Did you visit the hospital?"

Steven opened his mouth, unsure if he could really tell her the truth.

Their canoe, drifting lazily on the lake, was the exact same one they'd been on during their final night together. The night when they'd gone to the island, spending nearly the entire night there, laying in one another's arms, before sneaking back before the morning sun rose into the sky.

The night that Julia had given him the dreaming ability through that fateful kiss.

The night Steven had promised to love her forever. Despite the distance that separated them, he swore that he would wait for her. It was his dream, his little fantasy that both Julia and him knew was nearly impossible to keep. Not even love could mend the bonds that being separated for so long cut.

Only thing was, Steven hadn't expected the dreams. Although it would ultimately destroy him, he'd been too overcome by love and desire for the strange, amazing girl from Camrose.

Now that Steven knew what would happen if he didn't let go, why did he find it so hard to do so? Staring at the striking, amazing girl before him, he only wanted to envelope her in his arms. Hold her so tight, kiss her passionately and spend their final moments in bliss.

Then he would surrender his life; slip back into the Oceans.

"Steven?" Julia gave his hand a tight squeeze, her face coated in concern. "Did you visit the hospital?" Moving closer, her eyes widening, she let go of his hands, sensing something was terribly amiss.

Sighing, Steven knew that no amount of memories or promises could save them now. No amount of love could keep them together, it was time to stop this madness, to stop this dream and finally say goodbye. "Julia, you weren't in the hospital."

"Where was I then?" She let go of his hands, her mouth slipping into a frown.

"I—" Before he could continue his sentence, the dream around them began to change. Gone was the dark, freezing lake; in its place was an expansive, green field. Leaves blew over the field, which was now gated in by a black, iron fence. Headstones rose out of the ground, popping out into long, numerous rows.

Where a dark, starry sky had once been, now was a blue, cloud-filled one.

A stiff, chilly breeze blew over Julia and Steven, who were standing at the foot of a freshly made grave. Multiple flowers rested on the fresh, brown soil. On the grey slab of stone, it read: "Julia Hayley Ryte, 1995-2012, with love, we held you, with tears we let you go".

"I don't understand." Julia stared at Steven. "I'm dead?"

"Almost. Julia, I've been keeping you alive in these dreams. At first, I couldn't let you go, I mean, how could I? I promised to love you, no matter what. And to be honest, I still do." He took her in his arms, holding her warmly. "But I have to let you go. I can't keep pretending that none of this is false. I'm so sorry, Julia, I really do love you."

"If you love someone, let them go. Is that it?" Julia stepped out of his embrace, kneeling beside her own tombstone.

"No. My love is what kept me holding on. I'm letting go because I have to, not because I want to. Trust me, if there was a way, I would never let you go. But that's the thing with life, sometimes; you just can't get what you want. Sometimes, you do have to give up your dreams."

Julia sighed, tears coming to her brilliant, incredible turquoise eyes. "Steven?" She bit her lower lip, which was trembling visibly. "I—" It was all she had time to say before a thunderous explosion sounded overhead.

Steven was held in place as the sky above them began to collapse. Chunks of blue, cloud-filled sky plummeted to the ground. Trees swayed back and forth, while the gates and tombstones collapsed on the grass.

"Julia!" Steven reached out his hand, seeing that his lover was beginning to disappear.

"I love you." Their fingers brushed up against one another, while she faded away completely. In mere seconds, there was nothing left of the one person he'd given his entire heart to.

Steven whispered, "I love you more," while his countenance fell.

He stared up at the collapsing sky, his heart feeling a rush of sorrow... and freedom. It was done. Julia was gone—forever.

Closing his eyes, he took in a deep breath.

When he opened them, the Keeper was standing in front of him.

The dream was collapsing.

Headstones were breaking in half or falling over, while large cracks broke through the green, leaf-strewn field. Clouds broke into pieces as well, plummeting to the ground below. Holes in the blue sky revealed that dark, endless water encompassed their entire world.

The sight of water pouring down from the sky in raging torrents was enough to paralyze him with fear.

"Steven!" The Keeper pulled Steven away from a crack in the ground below. Pieces of earth tumbled down the growing crevice into the infinite waters. "Watch out, kid!" He grabbed his arm, pulling him away from the ground that was giving way to the water.

"Get off me!" Steven pulled his arm out of his grip. "You tried to kill him! You tried to kill her! All those people! Well did it work? Did you save your lover? Was it worth it?" Steven was breathing hard, his heart weighed down by endless grief. And rage. "Why are you here?"

"I'm here to save your life, Steven." The Keeper stared at him in a different way than before. His scowl was replaced by a mournful, regretful frown. "I could've shot myself and saved everyone in the Oceans, but I wanted to make sure you were safe first. What if other Dreamers still lived? Then you would die. And this, Steven—the man I became—I didn't just do it for my lover. I did this for you."

Shaking his head, the Keeper smiled. "I'm going into the Oceans, Steven. Not you."

Steven stared at the Keeper in horror. "What?"

The Keeper hesitantly walked up to Steven, his eyes wide. With arms open, he gave Steven a light, gentle hug. "Take care of yourself, son." Letting go, he walked past him. A sigh escaped his lips. He didn't turn around once.

Steven watched him go to where the ground was breaking apart and fall into the water.

Then he was gone.

Around him, the dream continued to break apart and let more water in.

Steven closed his eyes as a wall of water surged through a hole in the horizon, rushing towards him.

The wall of water never hit him.

Instead, he opened his eyes and found himself back in his house. Lying on the hallway floor. There was no water. There were no hallucinations. There were no voices in his head. There was no Keeper. There was no Julia.

Only pain remained in his heart.

And, strangely enough, peace.

Sitting up, Steven rested against the wall in the hallway.

In his mind's eye, he could see the love of his life fading into nothingness. A dream world they had constructed was now only a recent, heart-wrenching memory. The girl of his dreams would only live on in memories and shared stories.

Oddly enough, a smile spread across his face.

If memories were all they had, then he would take them gladly.

Their goodbye was inevitable. It was the journey, not the destination that had made up an incredible, heart-breaking story. One could not hold onto their lover forever. Eventually, all of them would fade into nothingness.

It was the bittersweet truth of life: there is always an end.

Epilogue

____________

I could feel the cold water rushing around me, enveloping me in its icy maw. I closed my eyes, opened my mouth and took in a deep breath. Instead of life-giving air rushing down my throat, I was inundated by frigid water. I could feel it spreading everywhere, locking up my body as if I'd swallowed cement.

This was my purpose.

I would fulfill it gladly, for it was what I deserved.

Though I would no longer exist in a world I'd once called home, someone else now could. The briefest of smiles came over me as I thought of who I'd freed.

Still, the bitter, wicked part of me felt deep fear of the fate I was now destined for. As the dark, relentless waters poured into my body, I thought of the sins that had nailed me to this particular cross.

I was the Keeper of Dreams.

What foolishness.

I remember, after burning down Thomas Newman's house and killing his wife, that I began my pursuit of his children. In the tavern, I had killed many Dreamers. Word spread quickly, as I began to slaughter them in great numbers, leaving no one alive. I was a monster. A devil.

I was no Keeper of Dreams.

Still, Thomas Newman had hid his children well.

Given them new names, and with his limited cash, was forced to keep his children in the country. Although, separating them was his smartest move, it was not enough to keep me away. I descended upon Thomas Newman the night he planned to go on the offense.

I ripped pages from his journal, which he tried to take back and throw into the nearby fireplace.

I then killed the man himself, my human side long erased by the sins of my past. What was killing one more? I grabbed the burning journal from the fire. In it, half-burnt, was a page vaguely telling of the day he put Drake for adoption in Winnipeg.

Winnipeg, of all places.

The adoption centre I found easily enough. I broke into its records, discovering that two boys had been given to the centre in that week. Two. As luck should have it for Drake, I went to the wrong boy's house first.

I remember this night clearly.

Even as I sink further into the depths of the Oceans, I can see her frightened, confused face in my mind.

I entered their house with a gun. With an intent to kill the boy quickly. Although I wouldn't know what he looked like exactly, I would kill him regardless if he was Drake or not. Was this justifiable? No. I was a monster, however, driven to do whatever I could to free those in the Oceans.

I shot the mother first.

She was in the kitchen.

I knew that in ten minutes the police would come and arrest me—she'd seen my face. I remembered saying sorry, just how sorry I was. I had backed up, pointing my gun at the young mother. A boy had come into the kitchen.

I had known the boy.

I lowered the gun, my heart breaking.

However, I had to shoot the mother and get on my way. What I did to that poor child was unforgivable. The mother didn't need to die. Why I shot her, I guess it was just my wickedness. The boy kept staring at me with his bright blue eyes. Such familiar eyes. He was too young to understand what was happening.

His eyes haunted me as I ran from the house.

I ran to the only place where I could make sense of those blue eyes. I went back to the house where Brianne and I had decided would be our home. The house that I had to flee after she disappeared, taken into the Oceans.

The residents were in the process of moving out of the house.

Inside, I was relieved to see that I wouldn't be shooting anyone else. All that met me inside were cardboard boxes, plastic bins full of possessions and covered furniture. I stepped carefully up the stairs, to the bedroom where my life was shattered into pieces.

I saw the bed where she had disappeared. Where I had last seen her.

The bedroom was arranged differently, and I noticed to my surprise a picture of that exact same pair of blue eyes. Only this time, they were the eyes of a newborn child. I took the picture off the wall with shaking hands, surprised that it hadn't been packed away yet.

I took the picture out of the frame, tears coming to my eyes.

A little note was included with the frame. It fell onto the floor as I took out the backing, gently touching the picture with my fingers. It was the same blue eyes.

I read the folded up note.

This is the miracle child.

One afternoon, this precious newborn boy was found on our bed. Naked. Crying. Wet.

A treasure with the brightest blue eyes we'd yet to see.

We could not keep our miracle child, but we pray for him daily.

God bless the miracle child.

I read those words over and over again, unable to fathom what I had read. How could it be? How could it be that the cruel, hellish Oceans had returned my boy? My son? Those blue eyes were a trademark of our family's legacy—his dark hair and tan skin from his mother.

The miracle child was my son.

And I had just killed his adoptive mother.

It was then that I vowed to always protect my son. I left the house, forcing my tears to remain merely an emotional urge. I knew that I could no longer kill the Dreamers, not if my son was still one. I would take care of him. I would watch him from a distance, keeping him out of harm. And when the time was right, I would make myself known to him.

Though I promised myself that he would never know who I really was.

Instead, I would guide him in his dreaming gift, which I was sure he had. I would become the Keeper of Dreams. However, I was wrong. When the attacker forced my hand, I realized that he was no Dreamer after all. I could still save my wife. I could reunite mother with son.

It was the least I could do after killing the only mother he'd ever known.

However, none of my plans were of any fruit.

I am glad, happy even, that my boy is now safe. Steven Walker will live free from the Oceans, because I saved him. I know it makes up for very little of what I did, but I never did this for recompense. I am a monster.

I am a devil.

I am the Keeper of Dreams.

And I did this for them.

***

Quick note from the author:

I can't thank you enough for reading this novel! Readers like you are the reason I've spent endless hours writing away. I hope that you've enjoyed reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. If you'd like to read more of my writing, you can catch me on the writing-social-networking site:

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Matthew D. Hay | Facebook

or you can also contact me on:

Smashwords – About Matthew D. Hay

Thanks for reading, and take care!

