Dreamers (The Dreamers Series)

by Brooklin Skye

  Self-doubt crushes me from the inside out. My life has been snatched away, as well as my heart. Dreamless nights and days are the only escape I can find. This is the way it’s going to be from now on, at least until I can eventually get out of here.

  ***

  Not much has changed over the last few weeks, aside from the frequency of Lana’s visits. According to my calculations it has been twenty-two days since she first locked me in this prison. Some days are better than others. I pass my time thinking of ways to kill her when I finally get out of here. I’ve managed to get pretty creative about it. My current favorite has been holding her face in the toilet, like the piece of filthy shit she is, then pulling her up as she begins to pass out, only to hold her under again once her breathing stabilizes. I could envision this all day, every day and find happiness. Unfortunately, other days aren’t so good. I spent the better part of yesterday throwing up. I gave up the fight of starving myself after the first few days. I had weakened myself to the point where I could barely walk to the bathroom anymore. Since then my stomach hasn’t felt right. I eat and drink enough to keep me going. The food she brings isn’t the best, and lately I’m lucky to receive a peanut butter sandwich once a day. Her trips are becoming infrequent. She must be growing tired of caring for a grown woman, as she rarely stays long enough to torture me with her ramblings about Dominick anymore.

  The first week was devastating. I was subjected to daily reports on the wonderful experiences they were having: how he had taken her on a romantic sailing trip, how she had learned to master dream control, how they were in newly-wed mode, screwing like rabbits every night. Initially I gave her the pleasure of enjoying my tears—too many times. By the second week in I made a decision. She would no longer enjoy my pain. Dominick didn’t deserve one more tear, one more thought—he wasn’t getting a minute longer from me. I’m mentally stronger now for having survived this ordeal. As quickly as he cut me out, I have done the same.

  I do my best to use my time productively, dreaming of the day I will see my family again. Mia must be beside herself with worry. Lana must have contacted her somehow, fooling her into believing the same thing as she told Cayden, that I’m deathly sick with the flu. Although, my sister would only buy that for so long before she came to check on me. Her mommy instinct would never allow me to remain sick for over three weeks without being seen by a doctor, this I know. It leaves me questioning any other excuses she might have been given. There is no telling what Lana has done to convince everyone to stay away. Even Heather hasn’t come home. She was only supposed to be gone for a few weeks. Something is wrong here—very wrong. Someone should have been here by now.

  I have to get my strength up somehow. The vomiting has taken every ounce of energy from my body, leaving me weak and vulnerable. I can’t stay here any longer, waiting for a rescuer is no longer an option. I have to do this for myself—alone.

  I hear her coming again. It must be time for breakfast. When the door creeps open I see that she is wearing the outfit I borrowed from Mia the night Heather and I went on our first date to the Italian bistro. I wonder what Heather would think if she saw her now? Disgusted I’m sure. In the three weeks I’ve been in here she hasn’t seemed to shower even once, judging by the dirty smell wafting from her hair. Her hair is blonde but has taken on a dingy brown appearance from lack of cleaning. The only thing she attempts to keep up with is changing clothing—my clothing. The large black circles beneath her pale blue eyes tell me she is keeping herself fully sedated in order to be with—him.

  Don’t think about that, Sydney. Forget about him.

  “I brought you another peanut butter sandwich, Red. I don’t have time to cook. Not that it really matters what you eat, you’re just gonna barf it up anyway. I don’t know why I even bother.”

  “Maybe if you would let me see a doctor I might actually get better. I’m vomiting all the time, I’m too weak to even get up some days, and I’m having headaches probably from malnutrition. I need a doctor, or at least some medicine.”

  “I brought medicine, but no doctor.”

  “Why won’t you just let me go? You and Dominick are together. Heather isn’t home yet. There is no reason to keep me here any longer.”

  “You’re my leverage.”

  “Leverage for what? What could I possibly have that will help you?”

  “Never mind that, just be patient and stop whining. I was locked up in that institution for months. You’ll survive.” She rolls her eyes. “I’ll let you get back to your puke bowl.”

  The moment the door closes I swallow down a double dose of Pepto Bismol. I have to get well or I’ll never get out of here.

  I lay my head against the door as another bout of nausea begins to swelter in my churning stomach. That’s when I notice I can hear Lana talking. I assume she’s on the phone since I hear only a single voice. I tune everything out, concentration solely on her voice. I draw it in, making it seem more abundant in my ears. My face flushes as I hold my breath so I don’t miss a word.

  “Heather, she isn’t ready for you to come back yet. We have had this conversation a hundred times in the last few days. I’ve told you already, she is under my care right now. I am a licensed psychiatrist, and I cannot disclose any information to you about Miss Preston. All I can legally say is that at this point in her treatment it is crucial that she remain in a calm state of mind, so as to not interfere with the process. She experienced a severe level of trauma from the—ordeal. I’m sure you’re aware, and I’m certain you understand. I will let you know when she is ready for visitors…Yes, I am aware that this is your home, Miss Grayson…”

  Lana becomes frustrated by Heather’s persistence. She doesn’t seem to be buying into Lana’s phony explanation, as it’s apparent that she is arguing heavily.

  “You have a responsibility to Sydney. As her friend and companion you should want the best care for her. This is part of the healing process. Leave her be.”

  Lana seems to have gotten through to Heather. Sadly, Heather would never compromise my wellbeing, specifically when she feels that she was the primary cause. Lana is playing her mistake against her to keep her out of her own home. I wish more than anything that Heather could just be selfish for once in her life. I wish she could be like Dominick right now. He had no concern for my wellbeing. He was more concerned with himself. He left me here to deal with Lana all alone.

  Heather, please don’t listen to her. She has me trapped here. Come home, Heather. Come home!

  Of course she can’t hear me talking to myself, but even if it’s purely mental, I have to try. Sadness overwhelms me, filling my eyes with liquid emotion. The weak moment is short lived as I hear Lana begin a new conversation. My ears perk right back up as I dry my eyes.

  “You need to get Heather in check. She is blowing up Sydney’s phone every five minutes. She isn’t going to wait much longer. When she comes home, everything will fall apart.”

  Whomever she is speaking to seems to be riding her pretty hard. Lana’s voice changes as she gets reamed by the mystery caller.

  “I know we had a deal. I was supposed to get rid of Sydney, you would declare me insane, and I would get off scot-free. Blah blah blah…Yes, I remember. Things change, Peyton. I’ve already fucking told you I’m not going to kill her. She is my bargaining chip right now.”

  I gasp as I realize Peyton is the caller, and she is strongly displeased with Lana, as she is yelling so loudly that I can actually hear her voice boasting from the phone. Lana is becoming increasingly agitated. Her feet pace loudly across the living room floor.

  “Peyton, you’re in this as deep as I am. Between Heather, Mia, and Cayden, someone is going to find out, and soon. People are beginning to smell a rat. You better come through with your part of the bargain or I’m leaving. I’m not going down for Sydney, and I’m sure as hell not going down for you. We are moving on to plan B. Get your shit together.”

  Peyton’s voice softens as I can no longer hear her through t
he phone. The final words I hear leave me confused.

  “No, he can’t read my mind. I’m still taking those pills you gave me. Since I’ve been taking them he can’t seem to penetrate my mind at all, you were right. He has no idea what I know—what WE know. Now listen, since we are off to plan B, I need to hurry and pack my shit and get away from here. I’m going to torch the place, with HER in it. Are you okay with that? … Alright then, start making arrangements.”

  She hangs up without further commentary. I begin to panic as I hear her feet scurrying around the apartment. She is packing her things to leave.

  I bang on the door loudly commanding her attention. As weak as I am physically, this is not the best time to be doing this, but it might be the only chance I get before she burns the apartment down, leaving me inside.

  “What do you want?” she asks irritated, from outside the door.

  “Lana, I need to go to the bathroom. I can’t hold it. Whatever virus I have is giving me diarrhea, as well. Please, I’ll be fast.”

  I grab the only weapon I have within reach, a plate. I take my chance the moment I see her, smashing the glass plate into a shattered mess across her face. She drops to her knees, giving me the opportunity I need to make my way to the front door. I reach it within seconds, but it won’t open.

  It’s dead bolted. I’ve got to get to the bedroom, she’s getting up. Shit!

  I run at half power, pushing my weakened muscles to their limit, barely making it to my bedroom door. I slam it closed without a second to lose, locking the flimsy knob. Fortunately Lana has installed a dead bolt here as well, and left the keys dangling within the keyhole. I twist the keys, sealing me safely inside the walls of my room, as Lana furiously bangs and kicks the door, trying desperately to get inside.

  “Open this fucking door, you stupid bitch, or I will burn you alive in this apartment!”

  “I’m calling the police!”

  My phone lies on the bed. I snatch it up calling Mia as quickly as I can. If I never hear another voice again, I want the last to be hers. She answers on the first ring.

  “Sydney!”

  “Mia, Lana has me trapped in the apartment. She’s going to burn it down. I’m locked in. Get the police here now!” I cry.

  Mia hangs up without saying another word. She will have this place swarming in police in a matter of minutes. Worst case scenario, I jump from the window, a simple feat compared to the last three weeks. If I die doing it, at least it will be of my own choice.

  I twitch nervously around the window. She has stopped trying to get into the room. Silence is not the most comforting sound when a lunatic lurks somewhere in my vicinity.

  For whatever reason, I feel like I have to speak to one more person. Not because I want to spend what might be my last moment with him, but merely because it’s the right thing to do. I slip into meditation for the last time.

  “Dominick, this might be the last time you ever hear my voice so listen well. Lana is involved in concealing your death. She has been blocking you from entering her mind with medication, just like Heather. Don’t trust her.”

  I nearly jump out of my skin as I hear him. After everything that happened between us, and Lana, I really wasn’t expecting him to respond.

  “Syd, wait!” he calls. “Are you okay, baby?”

  “Am I okay? You’re seriously asking me if I’m fucking okay? I’ve been locked in the dark room for nearly a month by your new girlfriend. I am not okay. Goodbye, Dominick, and fuck you!”

  “Sydney, wait. Let me explain!” he pleads.

  I pull myself back to reality, where I’m safe. I will not fall for his enveloping words ever again.

  Never again.

  I have never been more grateful to hear the blaring shriek of sirens in my life. Police burst through the front door, erupting chaos throughout the entire apartment. Mia’s voice mingles within the shouting, calling my name. She’s here—thank god she’s here.

  I open the bedroom door, feeling safe for the first time in weeks. Mia stiffens as a statue in horror, as she catches a glimpse of my boney undernourished appearance, falling to tears the moment our eyes meet.

  “Let me through. Move!” she shouts, pushing her way through no fewer than twelve grown men and grabbing me in her arms.

  She is followed in by Cayden, Heather, and a woman I don’t know. I assume her to be Heather’s mother. She is talking to the police.

  Heather’s eyes well up as she slowly inches her way over to me. “Syd, I’m sorry. I should never have left you here.”

  “I’m so glad you’re okay, kiddo.” Cayden cuts her off, snatching me into a giant bear hug.

  The severity of the last few weeks finally hits me, spinning my head into a murky cloud of confusion. Everything around me begins to fade. Voices dull, images disappear—I fall to the floor in utter and complete exhaustion.

  ***

  “Sydney, can you hear me?” a familiar voice speaks.

  I don’t respond other than opening my eyes. I’m in the hospital. Cayden stands over me, fully clothed in his doctor’s garb.

  “Sydney, it’s me Cayden. How are you holding up, honey?” His voice is so genuine and pure, yet torturous as it reminds me of him. “Mia, she’s awake.”

  “Sydney, I’m so happy to see you’re alright. Thank god.” She cries again.

  “How did I end up here? And where is she?” I begin scanning the room, waiting for her to emerge from the shadows.

  “Who, honey?” Mia asks softly.

  “Lana.”

  They quickly exchange a glance, nodding in agreement.

  “Cayden, can you close her door please?” Mia asks.

  He closes the door and sits on the edge of my bed.

  “Syd, Lana committed suicide before the police arrived. She jumped from Heather’s bedroom window.”

  I suppose I should feel—something; however, nothing aside from happiness makes its way through my head.

  “Good,” I respond shortly. “Now, why am I in the hospital? I want to go home, pack my shit and get the hell out of that apartment.”

  “You’re moving out? I don’t really blame you after everything that happened to you. I’m sure Nick will be thrilled to hear that you’re okay, though,” Cayden comments.

  “You’ve—talked to him?” I ask curiously.

  “Well, just for a minute. Mia and I went back to get you some clothes a little while ago and got on the Ouija board for a moment to let him know you were safe. As for the reason you’re here, it’s pretty routine to get checked out. We are just waiting for a few more labs to come back, and you’ll be able to go home. You were dehydrated pretty badly.”

  I stick to questioning my health, ignoring any discussion of Dominick. Sooner or later I will tell them, but right now I’m simply not ready yet.

  “I’ve been throwing up for the last few days. I have some sort of flu or something. Who knows, Lana could have been poisoning my food.”

  “Well, if she did, we’ll find it. I think your results are coming in now, the lab is calling me. You sit tight while I go in the hall and take this call. Mia, start getting her ready for discharge, baby.”

  Like a child I wait to giggle until he leaves the room. It feels good to smile, it’s the first time in weeks.

  “Baby? Things seem to be moving right along with you two. That’s great, Mia.”

  Mia blushes slightly as she takes a blood pressure, documenting my chart.

  “He is so wonderful. I think I’m falling in love. Can you believe that, sisters in love with brothers?” She laughs.

  I contemplate telling her, deciding that now is as good a time as any. Just as I begin to speak, Cayden comes back in, summoning Mia.

  “Mia, can you come in the hall please?”

  “Absolutely. Syd, go ahead and get dressed, your clothes are in the bag on the back of that chair. If you begin feeling unsteady again, hit the nurse button. You’ve been rehydrated so you should be alright. Just take it slow. I’ll be right b
ack.”

  I do as she instructs, dressing in a pair of yoga pants and a white t-shirt. I don’t bother with my shoes, instead I slip my feet into a pair of comfy slippers.

  Mia reenters the room with a strange expression on her face. It’s hard to read, but it definitely doesn’t look good. Her years of training as a nurse don’t seem to hide the sisterly concern oozing from her pores. My heart rate really begins to spike as she orders Cayden to stay in the hall while we talk.

  Oh god, something bad came back in my labs. I’m dying, that’s why I’ve been so sick.

  “What is it, Mia? And don’t soften me up either. I’ve been feeling like death. Cayden calls you into a private meeting about my labs, and now you look as if you’re gonna puke. Just say it, Mia. I’m dying, aren’t I? Lana poisoned me with arsenic or something, didn’t she?”

  “First of all, calm down. If you were dying, I would be beside myself right now, psychological training or not. You’re right though, something definitely came back in your labs. You’re very lucky that you have a sister in a specialty field because you’re certainly going to need it.”

  “Mia, you’re an obstetrical nurse, I don’t think I will need your services for quite some time—god willing. What are you getting at? Do I have cancer or something?”

  She stares at me, with that look. Her eyebrows lift as she waits for me to make some sort of connection.

  When it finally hits me, I feel faint once again, falling to my knees. There is no physical way this could be happening.

  “Mia, trash can, trash can!” I scream, as the puke threatens to eject.

  She barely makes it with a small, bedpan-style bucket, catching the projectile vomit spewing from my mouth.