Page 39 of Lost in the Dark

DARKDREAM

VIVIENNE HART

Libra

Darkness surrounds me, hot and suffocating, pressing in on all sides. I can’t see a thing, but the smells…blood and the hot afterburn of gunshots assault my nose. I curl into a tight ball, something hard at my back, and hold my breath. I’m tucked into a corner, bent awkwardly, and I hear footsteps echoing on the concrete floor. I roll my lips together, desperate not to make any sounds. I’d stop breathing if I could. Sweat trickles along my hairline, but I don’t dare swipe it away. Instead, I squeeze my eyes shut, biting my lower lip until it bleeds. Terror rolls through me in slow waves, threatening to drown me.

I’m hiding from a monster, and I know absolutely that my survival depends on not being found.

“Eliza. Eliza, where are you? It’s no use hiding. I’ll find you. I’ll always find you. You’re mine.”

The voice gets closer and closer. Any minute now, he’ll see me, he’ll yank me up by one arm and then it will all be over…

I bolt upright in bed, stiff as a board. Sweat is sticky at my temples and the small of my back, and the singsong voice still reverberates in my head. I’m frozen in the darkness, trying to get my bearings, when I remember where I am. In my tiny apartment in Haven’s Hollow, far away from Evan and all the things that happened between us.

It was just a dream.

That’s the fourth night in a row. Every time I think I’ve kicked this nightmare for good, it comes back and slaps me in the face. I shove away damp tendrils of hair and reach for my nightstand, where my phone rests. I check the clock: 6:43AM.

I take a deep stretch, loosening my aching muscles. I tense up when I have these dreams, and I always wake up sore. I’d rather get more sleep, especially since today is my day off, but there’s no way that’s going to happen now. I’d be haunted by Evan’s voice—and that awful memory—as soon as I drifted off. I might as well get up and get in a workout or something. A jog to clear my head, and then…who knows? Maybe I’ll stop by the bakery anyway. Make something special to counteract the pall that’s casting itself over my mood. Ooh, or I could take my bike out for a long ride. It’s been a while since I did that.

I throw on workout clothes and grab a handful of essentials, like my earbuds and keys, and head out. Haven’s Hollow is the perfect place for a morning jog: quaint, friendly, and with a low crime rate.

It’s a beautiful day outside, the sun just starting to rise. Main Street is quiet at this hour, but not completely empty. The diner has a regular breakfast crowd going, and on the corner, the produce guys are unloading fresh lettuce at Haven’s Pantry. I take a deep breath and set out on my usual path, trying to sink into a sense of normality to wash away the unsettling dream.

All the same, a kernel of unease prickles along my spine. It’s for the same reason that the dreams have started again: I could swear I saw Evan last week as I jogged along this very route. I know that’s impossible. For one thing, he’s surely still in prison. For another, there’s no way he would look for me here. He’d be tracking Eliza Hightower, not Libra Cartwright. I don’t see how he could possibly have found me in Haven’s Hollow.

Still, I find myself inspecting every face I pass as I jog, searching out the familiar dark hair and startling green eyes, the sharp chin and dimples. The good looks that hide a rotten personality. Evan is like Snow White’s apple—appealing on the outside, poisonous on the inside, and I imagine prison hasn’t done much to improve him.

There’s a part of me that wanted to do an internet search on Evan as soon as I thought I saw him, but I talked myself down. I refuse to live in a state of paranoia—I won’t let him ruin my new life.. Besides, I don’t want anything linking me to him—not even my internet history.

I shake away the thought of him and melt into the jog, my muscles going soft and smooth under the morning sun, and I’m feeling almost back to normal as I swing around the diner and head down a side street.

I wave at another jogger as we pass each other, and a renewed sense of lightness fills me. I love this town. It’s cute and charming, not the kind of place I could have imagined myself in a decade ago. If someone had told me at 17 that this would be my life now, I’d have either laughed or cried. Everything was so dark then, with Evan and my foster family and the drugs, that I couldn’t see my way out of it. Weirdly, it took sending a man to prison for me to find my path in life.

I turn again and make my way down the other side of Main Street, enjoying the aroma wafting out of Queen of Tarts, my bakery. My assistant manager Oaklyn is opening today, and I wonder what she’s making. There were donuts in the freezer waiting to be baked, but Oaklyn always throws in one of her own specialties.

I circle around to the kitchen door and poke my head in.

“Hey, Oaklyn!” I call out.

Oaklyn’s head pops around a corner, her brown-and-green curls springing. “Libra! I thought you had today off.”

“I do,” I say with a nod. “But I was out for a jog and the scent lured me in. What are you making?”

“Mixed berry tarts. The first batch will be ready soon, if you want to stick around.”

Part of me wants to. Tarts are delicious, and I like Oaklyn. She’s a bohemian, hippie type of girl, the kind of person who never seems to succumb to stress or anxiety. Everything is always sunny with her—the opposite of me—and I can always use some of that in my life.

Oaklyn was the first friend I made here in Haven’s Hollow, and to this day, I still consider her my closest acquaintance, though Haven is a close second. I could happily abandon my workout and spend the morning baking donuts and gossiping with Oaklyn. But my body wouldn’t thank me for that.

“I’d love to, but I really do need to finish my jog. My habit of sampling all our goodies will catch up to me if I don’t stick to my fitness routines.”

She laughs. “I hear that. I keep telling myself the same thing, but the pastries get me all the same. I’ve had to double my hikes since I started working here.”

Oaklyn is naturally curvy and fit, an avid outdoorswoman. When she’s not working, she hikes up in the mountains on cryptozoology missions and probably burns more calories in an hour than I do in a week.

“I’ll try to come back later for a tart, okay?” I say.

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