Post by emily van arden on Feb 18, 2012 21:17:38 GMT -8
He was standing before her, his hand outstretched. “Trust me,” he said, “I’d never do anything to hurt you.” He stared at her for a moment before dropping his hand with a sigh. There was such longing in his gaze that Emily could nearly feel the ache settle in her chest. She turned away, looking for the person he was talking to, but saw no one. The image never shifted from his face. He stared toward her for a moment longer, and she was unable to look away. Finally the boy lowered his gaze to his shoes and ran his fingers through his thick chestnut hair, dejected.- - - - -
Emily woke with a start; her sheets tangled tightly around her. She rolled onto her rights side and blindly felt around for the switch on her bedside lamp. A soft groan escaped as she squinted against the bright light, and she pulled the dishevelled comforter over her eyes. Slowly, inch-by-inch, she lowered the blanket and blinked owlishly as the room came into focus. Emily reached behind her head and pulled a pillow up against the headboard before sitting upright. She stretched groggily before leaning over and opening the narrow drawer on her nightstand and retrieved worn notebook with a peacock feather pattern on the cover. The spine of the book cracked in welcome, and Emily pulled a black gel-ink pen from between the pages before leafing to the last entry. Raising the pen to her lips, Emily prepared to pull the cap off with her teeth but then stopped and flipped back several pages.
Each entry contained the same person; he had been haunting her dreams non-stop for nearly a month now. But that wasn’t the first time she’d seen him. She could still see the bewildered expression on his face that day at the hospital when she’d asked him to leave. His lips had parted to speak when her aunt had touched his arm and murmured something that Emily hadn’t caught. He had nodded before making his way to the door. He cast a final, fleeting look back at her as she lay confused in the hospital bed, and then disappeared.
But he hadn’t vanished, not really. In a town the size of Eventide it was impossible for anyone to stay hidden for very long. She had seen him about town, always from a distance. Whenever their gazes would meet it was always she who looked away first. He was one of the people she was supposed to have remembered. No one had to tell her, she just instinctively knew. The truth was hidden in their languid silences and averted gazes. There were so many stories and people she had forgotten but he was the only one who refused to let her go; who featured in her dreams.
It had taken her a while to connect him with the boy in her hospital room, but the moment she did the dreams had shifted. Before they had only come on occasion and he had never spoken. Now scarcely a night passed where she didn’t dream of him. She wished she was an artist, capable of capturing the way his chestnut hair fell across his eyes, or the gentle curve of his lips as he smiled. Something so she could determine why she couldn’t shake him from her dreams.
Frustrated, Emily threw the notebook across the room and slumped back into the mattress. She stared at the ceiling and willed herself to remember. All she needed was one moment, one glimmer of the past. Instead she was met with the same nothingness as always.
Except this time she knew his name.
She had finally broken down and talked to her aunt about the dreams last week, hoping that knowing who he was would make him go away. “His name is Landon. Landon Daðason.” Emily had frowned and stared at the chipped rim of her teacup. “How did I know him?” Lea had paused and pursed her lips. “You two were close,” she said finally. “I think… I think I need to find him.”- - - - -
The address her aunt had written down for her lay crumpled on a piece of paper in her mittened hand. Eventide Medical. Emily drew a deep breath and pushed open the door, wincing as a small chime sounded to herald her arrival. She quickly made her way to the reception desk. An older, heavy-set woman looked up, her eyes widening in surprise. She reached for her glasses and polished them on her sweater before placing them on her face. They were too big and slid down her nose, the woman pushed them up as she said, “Why, Emily, what a pleasant surprise. It’s been too long.”
A flush warmed her cheeks and Emily wished desperately she could offer this woman more than a blank stare. “I was wondering if you could help me,” she said. “I’m looking for someone who works here? His name is Landon. Landon Daðason.”
