Page 16 of Presence

“Yes, a park. A nice and peaceful place, right?”

I look around, taking in the surreal beauty. It’s too perfect, too serene. There’s a cotton candy truck a few feet away. In front of us, swings hang from a large playground that slopes gently downhill.

No wonder all I could see was the vast blue sky. We’re sitting higher than everything else around, on elevated ground above it all.

It reminds me of summer and happiness. But it also reminds me of something else.

“Right. Nice and peaceful,” I mutter under my breath as I stand up. Instantly, my head spins, and black spots dance before my eyes. It’s like I’ve stood up too fast. But… “It’s weird,” I murmur. “I feel weak.”

Echo smacks his lips behind me and hums a little before he stands up too and glances at me from the side.

Echo smacks his lips behind me, humming a little before he stands and glances at me sideways. “It’s not weird at all. You’ve just realized you’re in a dreamscape while hosting another entity. Plus, you’re a pretty tired human, Claire. When exhaustion stretches over days, it seeps into your subconscious. And for you, it’s been…?”

“A year,” I finish his sentence. Right. I’ve struggled to sleep for nearly a year now. If I saw a doctor, he’d probably say my life is in danger. Nobody can survive without sleep for that long. That’s why I’m actually grateful for the amnesia episodes. I assume those memory blanks I have from time to time mean I’ve dozed off just enough to keep going.

And now... now I’m sleeping full-time. More importantly, I’m dreaming. If I stay here for at least two hours, my REM phase is guaranteed.

There’s no fucking way I’m leaving this place.

“A year.” Echo whistles. “That is a really, really long time.”

“Yeah, tell me about it.”

Placing both hands on my temples, I rub them while taking slow, deep breaths. I’m not sure if calming myself this way will work since the dizziness might just be another fragment of my imagination, but I try anyway. To my surprise, it helps. Once the dizziness fades and I feel steady on my feet, I wonder how this is possible. Is this all really a figment of my imagination?

The cotton candy air feels warm in my lungs, my mouth waters, and my skin prickles under the sun’s heat. My muscles stretch as I rotate my head, and my lips feel dry when I run my tongue over them.

All the sensations feel real—maybe even more than real. It’s like someone turned up the intensity of everything I’m feeling: pleasure, taste, need, smell, want… Impulses seem almost unstoppable. I feel this overwhelming need to try to forsake reason. I can’t prove it yet, but I know I don’t have the same filter here as I do in the real world.

Real world… How abstract is it to even think of my life this way?

I look around and take the surroundings in. This place really does seem peaceful. No people, just nature and enough concrete to make the playground fun. Balanced. My eyes land on the swings, and I feel an urge to walk over to them. And so, I do, partially because I can’t resist, but also because, even if I could, I wouldn’t. Since I’m already sleeping and this isn’t real, what’s the harm? I can do anything I want here.

“I want to go on the swing,” I say over my shoulder as my legs carry me down the slope. The grass is blissfully thick and dry enough to keep me stable, but I still feel a rush in my chest like I’m doing something completely ridiculous. “You coming with me?”

As Echo stands up and gives me a disarming smile, the rush turns into butterflies, and I pick up my pace, chuckling out loud. I don’t know why I do it or where the ridiculous happiness comes from, but I embrace it fully. I’ll worry about things later, when I’m awake.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he says. In a blink, he’s right behind me, his eyes gleaming with excitement. I glance over my shoulder and see him almost on my heels, his forearm muscles tensing with each stride. He’s wearing a purple polo shirt and black slacks, looking every bit the wealthy, sought-after man I remember from our last encounter.

I can’t help but wonder—is this just his style, or did I somehow shape him like this since he’s my guardian spirit? Either way, it’s hilarious to see a guy like him chasing me around a children’s playground. It gives me delightfully happy goosebumps.

A moment later, he catches me, wrapping his arms around my middle and lifting me into the air like I weigh nothing. Perhaps here I do.

“Echo!” I scream, laughter bubbling up. “What are you doing?”

“You were running away from me, weren’t you?” he says directly into my ear, his voice gruff and low, completely at odds with his polished appearance. His scent—aged wood, black pepper, and a hint of a winter night—mixes oddly yet wonderfully with the cotton candy aroma. I lick my lips over the last wave of a chuckle.

“No, I wasn’t,” I lie. Yes, I was running away from him. There’s no denying that, and he knows it too.

“That was a very bad, bad thing to do, Claire,” he murmurs, pulling my body close. I feel the firmness of his chest, stomach, thighs. And maybe something else I shouldn’t be thinking about, but...

Impulses. They’re just little zaps in the brain, often nonsensical blips. Sometimes, though, they mirror deep-rooted needs. Like the impulse now making me press my butt against him. It’s been way too long since I’ve been with a man, and my body craves the sensation.

“I never said I was a good girl, Echo,” I reply coyly, before I can second-guess myself.

He chuckles, his body shaking slightly, the warmth of our contact making my lips part.

“Right,” he quips in a low voice. “You only want your men to tell you that.”

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