This was it, she was going to die. Was it even possible to die in a dream? Was this still a dream? In the back of her head, she willed herself to wake up, knowing it to be futile. She closed her eyes, weak as a newborn, and accepted her fate.
Red blossomed behind her eyelids. At first she thought that it was the Shades swamping her, but then she realised it was light. She opened her eyes, then immediately squinted against the glare. The Shades were no longer focused on her, but on something behind her. Another light blazed, and the Shades closest to her disintegrated, blown back away from her and into dust. Again the light exploded and more were destroyed, blasting away like smoke on the wind. The rest threw their heads back in frustration - though she couldn’t hear it, she imagined their terrible screaming - and backed off.
Rough hands grabbed her under the shoulders and pulled her back with a grunt. Some Shades broke forward, and again the light burst them asunder. Perspiration from her rescuer dripped down onto her face.
“Let’s get you out of here,” he said in a strained voice, pulling her back. And as soon as the words were out of his mouth, they were gone.
She was in a dark room, dim light filtering in through a crack in drawn curtains. She was lying on her back on the floor, on top of her saviour, and she struggled a bit as he pushed her off. He dragged himself to the side, panting. She turned her head to see him, but all she got was a silhouette of a man slumped with his head against the wall.
“I didn’t think you’d be here so soon,” he croaked.
She tensed. She knew that voice.
With a grunt, he pushed himself off the wall and came over to her on his hands and knees. “Unfortunately, this will have to wait for another time. I need to recover.” He reached out a hand and shakily brushed sweaty hair from her face. “Go, kiddo, you need some proper sleep. Come back and find me when you’re ready.”
He disappeared; one second there, the next, not.
Aisling woke, gasping. She’d only half seen his face, but it was one she’d recognise anywhere. How often had he tucked her locks away like that?
A tear rolled down her cheek.
“Daddy,” she whispered.
5
For the next three nights, she didn’t sleep. She was terrified to close her eyes. Thoughts of that world, the flight for her life, the relentless attacks, and finally the acceptance of death, haunted her. That she had given in, that she’d stopped fighting, filled her with shame. What did that say about her? Did some part of her think that she’d deserved it?
And the sudden appearance of her father? What had prompted that? The man that had abandoned her turning out to be her knight in shining armour? She replayed his parting words over and over in her head, trying to make sense of them. Part of her yearned to give in, climb into bed, and see if she’d dream of him again.
But the fear won out.
Each night, she sat on the floor, her back to the wall, deliberately making herself uncomfortable, so that she wouldn’t fall asleep. All through the night she sat, with only her dark thoughts to occupy her. As the hours wore on, her head would dip, and she’d have to snap herself alert before she could nod off. The early mornings were miserable, as the temperature in her room dropped and the quilt on her bed looked more and more inviting. But she embraced the cold; anything to keep herself awake.
Her mother would rise at six, padding softly out of her room and into the kitchen to make breakfast, believing her daughter to be asleep. Aisling began to look forward to this; it gave her something to focus on. She never went out to her though. What could she say? I dreamt of a place where it seemed you could do anything, and I got attacked by shadows, and I think I secretly wish I was dead, and by the way, Daddy was there and he saved my life? Her mother would think she wasn’t wise in the head.
As the nights passed and the deprivation took hold, she wasn’t entirely sure that it wasn’t true. Did she really dream all that? Was it real? Sometimes, in the dead of the night, she wasn’t sure what was real and what was not. She’d try to wake herself up, panic when she couldn’t, before eventually realising that she wasn’t sleeping. At least, she thought she wasn’t.
When her mother finally left in the mornings, she would drag herself up, shake the pins and needles out of her limbs, and take a shower, turning the tap as cold as she could bear. Her nightmare had seemed so real that she’d look at herself in the mirror afterwards, convinced that she’d finally see scars or bruises all over her body. Instead, she was greeted by a pallid face with ever increasing bags under what looked like two black eyes.
The walk to school seemed to take longer and longer. In the light of day, the fear of the Shades would diminish and her thoughts would turn back to her father. What was he doing there? How had he found her? How had he saved her? Was any of it even real? Her mind was clouded from lack of sleep and she couldn’t hold onto a thought long enough to reason it out. She would walk, slouching, stumbling along the footpath towards her school. Occasionally, people would bump into her, but by the time her mind came around to the fact, they would already be gone.
Her work was starting to be affected; she’d already received an English essay with “Incomprehensible, D-” scribbled angrily across it in red marker. Overall though, she thought she’d done a good job so far at hiding how she was really feeling. From the teachers, at least. Nothing much escaped the other students. She faced a constant barrage of petty bullying, from outstretched feet that her weary legs couldn’t avoid, to misplaced books and materials. The last one was particularly frustrating, as her stressed mind forgot the simplest things with alarming rapidity, so she’d spend too much time looking for what was missing. All the while her classmates would be in stitches.
On her third day without sleep, she was finding herself missing chunks of time, where she’d become aware of herself standing in the corner staring at nothing, with no idea how she got there. Perhaps her mind was finally giving out on her.
She was in front of her locker with a book in her hand, not sure if she was taking it out or putting it in, when she realised someone was talking to her.
“Hellooo, anybody home?” It was Jake. From the look on his face, he’d been there a while. Normally she’d get flustered on the rare occasions when he’d talk to her. Now she couldn’t seem to care too much. He was saying something else.
“Huh?” she said, like an idiot.
“I said, we need to do something about the History assignment. You know, the revolution thing? When do you want to do it?”
She stared at him while her gears turned. “History. Right. We can, uh, Friday, is Friday good?”
He looked at her, for all the world like he was worried. Possibly that she was defective, but still.
“It’s due Friday,” he said, slowly.
“Oh. Not Friday then.”
“No, not Friday then.”
“Uh, okay. Hmm. Thursday?” It came out as if she was asking him if Thursday was a thing.
“Thursday,” he nodded. “Your place, as usual?” No-one ever went around to Jake’s house, other than his girlfriend maybe. But Aisling didn’t mind him coming over to her place. Her mother was rarely home, so she had the apartment to herself. Besides, the idea of having Jake in her apartment was appealing in more ways than one; when she was there on her own, the shadows seemed to take a human form.
“Yeah, yeah. Yeah.” She looked him in the eyes. He had quite pretty eyes. They were blue, just like her father’s. Ever since boys had become more interesting than disgusting, she’d never quite dared to look Jake in the eyes. She’d been afraid that he’d see what she was thinking. Now Aisling stared like a child, unabashed, ignorant to the fact that she was even staring. Dammit, he was talking and she’d missed it.
“Huh?” No more intelligent this time around.
He rolled his eyes. “Listen, just sort yourself out. Get help or something. You look like you died.” He left, his lips pursed.
She looked vacantly after him. Something important h
ad happened there, something had passed between them, but she couldn’t concentrate enough to put her finger on it.
The bell rang for the next class. Slowly, she bent down and picked up her bag. It weighed ten times as much as usual.
“Miss Shepherd? Miss Shepherd!”
Her eyes refocused as she snapped out of whatever trance she’d been in. Around her, the other students didn’t even bother to hide their smirks. Why were they all looking at her? She became aware of Miss Linsey standing with her hands on her hips, eyebrows drawn in a deep frown. Oh.
“Yes?” It came out as a hoarse whisper.
“I’ve had enough! Normally, if a student is having trouble, I’m content to wait it out, but this has been all week. It’s becoming ridiculous. Pack your bag and follow me.”
Miss Linsey waited by the door, holding it open, as Aisling slowly gathered her things and slunk out into the hallway.
“Keep reading,” her teacher ordered to the rest of the class. Then, turning to her, “Well? Come along.”
She set off at brisk pace, only to have to stop as Aisling couldn’t follow her fast enough. They eventually came to the headmaster’s office and Aisling’s heart fell. Getting an earful wasn’t exactly high on her bucket list of things she wanted to do right now. Miss Linsey directed her to the bench along the wall.
“Sit.”
Her teacher knocked once, then entered without waiting for a response. For her part, Aisling dropped onto the hard bench as if it was a double bed. She didn’t ever remember being as tired as this before. Everything about her seemed slow. Her jaw cracked as she let out a massive yawn, leaving her with teary eyes.
After a few minutes, her teacher came back out.
“You will wait here until Mr. Corley calls for you.” She left before Aisling had finished trying to understand what she’d said. Waiting here seemed a good a plan as any. Boredom didn’t exist anymore for her. In fact, she had a hard time telling how much time had passed lately; either she was blanking out, or her short-term memory was shot.
At some stage, the bell rang and the hallway filled with students going to their next class. Some pointed at her, some laughed. She imagined she saw Jake pass, frowning at her. No doubt thinking he’d be stuck finishing the History assignment on his own. The hallway filled again. Was this the same class or another one? She honestly couldn’t tell. When she was lucid, she focused on the tiles in front of her, thinking about the dream world, or poking at the problem of her father. She had a vague idea that she should be angry with him, but she couldn’t focus her thoughts enough.
“Aisling!”
She looked up at her mother standing in front of her, red-faced from exertion or embarrassment, or both. What had her mother done to be sent to the headmaster?
“Imagine my joy,” her mother continued, “when I got a call at work about you. When I had to skip my lunch break and will probably have to work late in order to come in for you. When I’m probably going to be docked pay because I’ll be late back, because of you. Do you mind telling me what exactly I’m doing here in the middle of the day? Why I’m not making sure we’ve a roof over our heads and food on the table? I just cannot wait to hear - why are you looking at me like that? Are you sick?”
Her mother was talking too quickly for her to follow, so Aisling probably looked confused. She didn’t resist when her mother felt her forehead with the back of one hand, or when she gripped her head to look into her eyes.
“I asked you a question, young lady.” She still looked angry, but the heat was out of her voice.
“I didn’t call you,” Aisling said, “Mr. Corley is waiting on me.”
“What?”
Before she got any further, the door beside them opened, and Mr. Corley came out.
“Mrs. Shepherd,” he said, shaking her mother’s hand. “I’m glad you could make it, and thank you for coming on such short notice.
“Miss Shepherd,” he said to Aisling, not shaking her hand, which she thought rude. “Please, come into my office.”
The office in question was filled with filing cabinets and adorned with maps and other educational paraphernalia. He led them to an overflowing desk and pulled out a seat for her mother (but not for her) before going around to the other side.
“I will be brief, as I know you’re pressed for time. I called you here today to discuss Aisling’s behaviour in recent days, peaking over the last day or two. I have no fewer than,” he consulted the ledger in front of him, “six different teachers expressing their concern. She has been described as ‘distracted,’ ‘absent,’ and in one case, ‘completely out of it.’ We try to take student safety very seriously, so I’d like to nip this in the bud. Is there anything we should know about that’s going on at your home?”
To give her mother credit, she seemed to take offense at that, as if her mothering abilities were being called into question. Technically, they were, Aisling supposed. Her mother sat straighter and answered curtly, “No, everything is quite all right. I am sure it’s just a phase.”
The headmaster looked at Aisling. “Would you like to expand on that, Miss Shepherd?”
Her mother turned her fierce gaze on her, as if daring her to contradict what she’d just said.
“No, I’m just having trouble sleeping.” Which was putting it mildly.
“Generally,” the headmaster continued, “these sort of sudden changes stem from a recent experience, one that can easily be worked out, if you would share it with us. Has anything happened to you?”
No, nothing at all, just nearly dying, being terrified of shadows, and dealing with the sudden reappearance of a man that abandoned her years ago. That, or she was going crazy; she wasn’t quite sure yet. But that wasn’t the shareable kind of story.
“No.”
Mr. Corley’s mouth tightened at the edges and he shot a quick glance over at her mother, who was now staring him down, ready to jump to the defence of her daughter. Was he perhaps regretting calling her now? Did he think that she wasn’t saying anything because her mother was there? That part was slightly true; one person at a time thinking she was insane was enough.
“Well, in that case, I’m sending you home for the rest of today, and tomorrow as well. This is not a suspension.” That to her mother, who looked like she was about to speak. “But I want you to use the time to recuperate and recharge. I understand young people can have a lot of stress, and it’s important that you learn to deal with it, otherwise you run the risk of cracking, and doing yourself harm. Go home. Take care of yourself.”
Her mother stood up, and he followed. “Thank you,” she said, a little stiffly.
They were in the car, on the way home. Aisling had her head against the window. The heating was broken again, but she didn’t mind, as it kept her awake. Beside her, her mother was giving out, as she had been since they’d left the school. She wasn’t listening much, and her mother didn’t seem to want a response; she just wanted to vent. It didn’t seem to be so much about her daughter having a problem, but more that this was the first she’d heard about it; especially galling when it’d apparently been going on for days.
“Why did Daddy leave?” Aisling said abruptly, stopping her mother mid-rant.
Her mother looked at her out of the corner of her eye for a long moment. “Is that what this is about? Your father?”
“Why did he leave? Where did he go?”
Her mother sighed. “I don’t know dear; he didn’t exactly confide in me what he was planning. One day he was there, the next it was just me and my little girl.” She reached over and squeezed her hand, though the gesture was awkward.
“Was it because of me?” Don’t say yes.
“No, honey, he was a complicated man. The last few months he was there were hard, you might not remember it, but he was absent a lot.” She squeezed her hand again. “Enough about him; he had his chance, and he made his choice.”
Aisling removed her hand from her mother’s and stared out the window again.
/> When they got home, she was so tired that she had to be helped out of the car. Her mother brought her up to her room and helped Aisling pull her clothes off. With the curtains drawn to block out the midday sun, the shadows sprang to life, and the fear came along with it. She moaned and tried to get out of bed. She didn’t even remember getting into it.
Her mother pushed her down, laughably easily. “No you don’t, young lady. You look like death itself and you’re not making any sense. Lie back down and go to sleep. Right now.”
Her mother must have sensed the fear in her, for she leaned down, and rested her forehead against hers, something she hadn’t done since Aisling was a child. “It’s okay, dear, I’ll be here,” she said softly. She kissed her on the cheek.
Aisling relaxed. Already, warmth from the bed was wrapping itself around her, enticing her towards the sweet embrace of sleep. She wanted it badly, so why bother trying to fight? Perhaps she’d sleep so deeply that she wouldn’t dream.
But no, she realised that wasn’t what she wanted. She’d get no proper peace until she got an explanation of what was happening. Until she asked the man himself his reasons for ditching a wife and daughter, for subjecting her to countless nights of crying and doubts, for breaking the foundation of her life out from under her.
It was time to find her father.
6
She was back in the dream world; it was night-time. Long grass tickled her knees, and the stars overhead shimmered in the sky. Though she tried preparing herself for it, it was still a shock to see the multitude of people. They were everywhere. As were their Shades.
I need to find my father, she thought, panicking slightly. She wanted to be gone before she was noticed.
A feeling of paranoia settled over her. Too late. The Shades had seen her. Like a wave spreading outwards, they perked up from their prey and focused on her.
I need to find my father.
She started to sweat. Her nails dug into her palms as she clenched her fists. The Shades still weren’t moving; perhaps they were wary from the last time. One started drifting slowly towards her. She frantically tried to imagine it being obliterated. It refused to oblige. A few more broke off.
Shepherds: Awakening Page 3