Avery
Jack wraps me in a fresh flannel and carries me off to bed. I’m almost asleep before he even lays me down. By the time my body sinks into the mattress and I’m snuggled in Jack’s arms, I’m out like a light.
When I’m asleep, I dream.
Unfortunately, it’s not of anything good.
“It’s all for our own good.”
That’s the way Adam speaks. Like he’s talking down to you, and he’s entitled to do so. He’s always so sure of himself, but he rarely makes any sense.
I try to open my mouth. I want to say something to him like, “Explain your platitudes, buddy,” but I can’t find my words, and I can’t find my breath.
And I can’t even get my mouth to open.
Where am I, anyway?
I’m no longer in Jack’s warm, cozy bed. This looks like a sort of narrow, snowy path, lined with…evergreens, maybe? Almost everything is covered in a thick fog.
The only thing that’s clear is Adam. He’s stepping out of the fog slowly and getting closer.
I feel like I’m supposed to be scared by Adam’s slow approach, and I am at first.
What starts my heart racing, however, is not the sight of Adam dumbly lumbering towards me, but the blanks I draw when I try to remember what day it is, and how I got here, and where here even is.
I don’t remember any of it, but I see the look in Adam’s eye as he emerges from the fog completely. I notice we’re both wearing heavy coats, but I don’t feel cold at all.
In fact, I feel warm all over. Warmer than I should.
That’s the last thing I remember: warm, gentle, masculine hands—not Adam’s hands, but kind, tender hands—wrapping me in cozy flannel and carefully carrying me to some snug, tranquil place of rest.
Whatever’s happening now, it’s not the least bit restful or tranquil. I can almost feel the warmth of the flannel, the security of those loving arms wrapped around me.
Witnessing the piercing steel of Adam’s eyes, those feelings evaporate like a distant memory. Like snowflakes melting on hot skin.
“What’s all for our own good?” I finally manage to get out.
Adam doesn’t answer.
As the evergreens and all the other bits of scenery disappear beneath the growing fog, Adam’s leering, ominous face only grows clearer.
I see that Adam’s wearing a plaid coat. How did I not notice that before?
It’s an odd kind of plaid, an ugly brownish-purple. An otherworldly color and pattern like I’ve never seen. As he draws even closer, the color seems to be shifting to a pure, menacing red.
“I paid for it all,” Adam lets out with a sneering voice, each word ringing out plainly, although he’s barely moving his lips. “As long as I pay, the world goes how I want.”
The solid, white fog behind Adam ignites into a pure orange fireball. There’s no sound, just the smell of sulfur and a sensation of pure dread as Adam walks slowly from the exploding world behind him.
I try again to open my mouth, but no part of me will move. My feet are cemented to the ground. I can’t even turn my head to look away.
Adam’s bringing the fireball with him. The bright orange blaze follows him deliberately and certainly. They’re both getting ready to come and meet me soon.
The steely glint in Adam’s eye is now reflected by a bright glare emerging from his left hand.
And there’s something emerging from his pocket, as well, something in his hand. All I can see is that it’s bright—too bright to look at directly.
I’m finally able to turn my head, and I see the dense fog, and the evergreens, and fresh, white snow.
I can still feel the heat moving towards me.
And I feel Adam’s voice again. I don’t just hear it, but I sense it.
“I can make my darkest dreams a reality.”
Each word rattles the whole world, sending seismic tremors, making the ground swell up and recede in waves under my feet.
The pure snow, the trees, the placid fog—it’s all still right in front of me. But the coming inferno, now crimson and glowing, is in the corner of my vision.
It’s so bright now that I involuntarily jerk all the way around, and I see a clean, open path in front of me.
I summon every bit of strength into trying to run, to break into a mad dash away from the hell I can feel at my back. Every movement I make is met with fierce, invisible resistance.
I can only move as fast as Adam’s moving behind me.
Every step is more difficult than the last, and the horizon seems to just keep getting further away.
And the peril behind me is still gaining.
I inch forward, away from the heat, into the cold, clean air. My breathing is getting shallow, and the air is getting thinner, warmer.
I cannot let myself succumb. I’m still moving, or trying to move, but now it’s like there’s an invisible wall keeping me from getting any further down the path.
The white, wintry scene in front of me is starting to turn that horrible shade of red, and it’s getting as difficult to breathe as it is to move.
The reddish tinge suddenly vanishes, and the landscape looks clean and safe again. I take in a deep breath of crisp air, and I turn around.
There’s no more heat, no more fiery air, no more Adam.
“Avery.”
I turn back to the voice behind me. There’s no more path. Now it’s a wide, open clearing covered in snow.
And there’s a figure there.
It’s my father.
I feel myself on the verge of tears. I take in another deep breath, feeling like this all may be over, finally.
“There’s nothing I can do for you, Avery.”
The reddish tinge comes seeping back into the landscape, and the winter air starts giving way to scorching heat.
“No. No, please.” It starts out as a scream, but comes out as a desperate whisper.
“The world goes how he wants, Avery.”
“No,” I hiss, the sound barely traveling through the air.
“No one can save you.” Without warning, I’m facing the other way again, watching in horror as Adam reappears with the crimson firestorm at his back.
“I paid for the world,” Adam says. “And when I find you, I’ll make sure you know it.”
My eyes open abruptly, revealing the still, quiet cabin bedroom.
“Oh, my gosh,” I whisper, knowing it was a dream, but still feeling the chill and the terror.
I’m on my side, wearing nothing but Jack’s flannel shirt.
On me, it’s less of a flannel shirt and more of a flannel tunic, or a flannel shroud. It’s a flannel shirt-dress, which is very much out this season, but I’m pretty sure if I wore it to New York fashion week, I could bring it back in. The comfy fabric envelopes me softly, resting gently over almost my entire body.
Although I’m sweating now, the fearful sweat from my dream drenched into my pillow, this room and this bed feels so calm, if not exactly cool.
And there’s no one else here.
Not Adam.
Not Jack.
Not anyone.
“Boof,” woofs Buck. His shaggy black form trots in as if he sensed something was wrong. I pat the bed and he hops up into it with me.
With Buck curled around me, I feel the strong urge to float back into sleep.
The nightmare, already fading from my memory, isn’t enough to discourage me.
On the other hand, I’m in a pool of my own sweat, and this colossal shirt is probably just making things worse.
I can’t sleep like this, not with so many recent, actual waking nightmares I’m now just remembering. Nightmares truly involving treacherous roads and treacherous people like Adam. Nightmares that don’t feel far from the first bad dream I’ve endured tonight.
That memory is either fading or blending with the confusion that’s taken over my life.
It hasn’t all been bad, but it’s been so confusing in so many ways. I close my eyes again, worried that if I don’t get back to sleep now, it might never happen.
I lie there with my eyes closed, breathing slowly.
I try to force my mind to go blank.
I try to ignore the questions that won’t leave my mind, questions about everything that’s been happening.
The most recent question being: where did Jack go, and why am I suddenly alone in this airless, muggy bedroom?
I open my eyes for just a second, and lower the flannel shirt away from my neck a little so it’s not covering me entirely.
Now that my shoulders are cooler, I close my eyes again, knowing that I need more sleep.
I’m a different person now than I was before. The thought comes out of nowhere.
I try telling my mind to shut up. I can’t deal with this right now. I’m probably not equipped to deal with this…I don’t know. Maybe ever.
Something changed tonight.
I know. I know that something inside me shifted tonight with Jack’s hot, hungry mouth against my delicate, trembling flesh. But whatever that something is and whatever it means, I can deal with it tomorrow.
I focus on my breathing.
What I went through tonight, whatever it means, it’s important. Before tonight, there was something all balled up in my sex begging to be unraveled, and now it’s unfurled inside of me, flying like a white flag of glorious surrender.
I just needed the right man to do it.
Not Adam. I know that Adam never would have made me feel the way I feel now.
I needed Jack.
I need Jack.
I shift once more, onto my other side, and I lower the flannel shirt a few inches more. Buck snores beside me, already asleep.
My mind is finally quieting down, letting the nagging questions and worries wither away for the time being. Feeling a bit exposed, I pull the flannel back up above my shoulders.
The shirt smells like Jack. Like his laundry detergent, clean and fresh. Like the lingering scent of his skin.
It lulls me into a sense of security. I don’t know where Jack is now, but I know that I’m here in his bed…and for as long as I am here, I’m safe.
That thought alone is enough to help me drift away again, into a deep and thankfully dreamless sleep.