Before I post something very theological, I want to put this out there. This is one of the primary main characters, named Dave Green. His family has adopted Maia one year after her ordeal, and they are a firm Christian family. The Greens have suffered their own family tragedy four years prior to when the book takes place, and this book is used to show the Providence of God in all tragedies, both Maia's and theirs.
WHEN DAVE woke up he wasn’t sure what was happening exactly. The room was completely dark—the only way he could sleep—and there was a deep penetrating silence over all. He was sweating, he knew that, but he wasn’t sure why, the air conditioning was on. He looked at his hands to see fingernail marks in the palms, where he had been gripping his hands tightly enough to do that.
“Dave!”
He jumped, thinking for a moment that someone had called his name, but realizing it was only an echo deep in his mind. One that he desperately wished he could forget.
He sat up and rubbed his eyes that were gradually adjusting to the darkness. He saw the glowing bars of his clock on his desk, beaming out to him, the only light in the darkness.
4:26
Only that? He thought. His heart was still pounding like a bass drum in his chest but he felt his pulse going down. Some dream.
He huffed, and rubbed his eyes again, climbing out of the bed and stretching, reaching out for the door as he did so, grabbing hold of the knob and twisting it silently. He started out into the dark hallway, and heard the faint hiss of the air conditioner on his way past. The moonlight shone in the hall windows and illuminated the rest of the hallway. He stepped onto the lighted carpet and heard the floorboards beneath creak with protest. As he passed Maia’s room he listened for a moment. Nothing.
He continued on to the stairs and proceeded down them quietly, avoiding the spots he knew squeaked. The smell from dinner was surprisingly still in the air, and he felt his stomach rumble with the scent.
He didn’t need to eat anything this late at night though. He moved for the kitchen and grabbed a cup on the counter that he had left there earlier, and moved for the waterspout on the fridge.
He thought he would like a cup of coffee, but decided against it when he remembered the time, even though he doubted he would get back to sleep. Usually he didn’t at those kinds of times.
He gulped down the water and decided to head back up the stairs before Danforth heard him and started making a racket. The dumb dog would wake up the whole house to get one person to let him out of his kennel.
Dave opened the fridge and grabbed a slice of the pizza that was left from the previous night before he left for the next room however.
As he walked through the living room, he wondered what he had dreamed about that had woken him up so suddenly? Normally he remembered his dreams, but this time he did not. He could see a vague image of a car in his mind still, he knew that someone was in great danger and heard that awful scream that he knew all too well—the same scream that had haunted him for so long.
“Dave!”
He hadn’t dreamed like that in a long time. He hardly ever had those kinds of nightmares anymore…not for a year and a half. Then again, that meant it was probably about time he started having those dreams again. In a grim way, the dreams were a good thing—they helped him remember.
He took a bite of the pizza and swallowed it; the cold ham and pineapple of the Hawaiian pizza were surprisingly dull in his mouth. Perhaps that was the effect of refrigeration
As he walked up the stairs he thought he heard mumbling, as if someone were trying to speak to him, and turned around—but nobody was behind him.
Strange.
He took another bite of the Hawaiian pizza and started to walk up the stairs slowly, again avoiding the squeaking stairs. The sweet pineapple tasted better on the second bite than it had on the first. He rounded to the second set of stairs.
He heard mumbling again, this time coming from upstairs. Someone was talking, he couldn’t discern who it was though. It was probably his mother talking to Dad about something. He may have made too much noise and woke them up. He took another bite of the pizza and held onto the end crust of the slice as he finished up the stairs. He looked up ahead and saw his father standing at Maia’s door.
His Dad looked at him, and he seemed concerned.
Dave walked over to where his father stood, and stopped by him, “What’s going on?” He whispered.
His dad pointed into Maia’s room and gestured with a finger to his nose for Dave to be silent.
Maia was muttering something, something in her sleep. He leaned in closer to listen better and try to make out what she was saying. The words were slurred so it was harder to make out, but whatever it was it sounded frightening. She was talking to somebody, somebody who obviously meant her hurt.
“No. Please don’t…I won’t…never tell…never tell…please just…” She stopped for a moment, and then he heard it start over again. “Please just stop…just stop.” A rock rolled around in his stomach and he knew what she must have been dreaming about.
He wanted to rush in and destroy whatever was tormenting her but he knew that he couldn’t destroy something that existed in her mind. As she spoke he felt the words tug at his heart, and tug deep down within him. Something roused with the words—anger, something that was birthed when he had first read of what had happened to her before they had adopted her. He remembered the blazing words on the page even then, the way they had set his heart ablaze and made him long to help her…long to do something. That same fire sprang up as he listened to her mumble those awful things in her sleep.
“Should we wake her up?” He whispered to Dad.
“I don’t know if we should…isn’t this getting it out of her system?”
“I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or not.” Dave looked at Maia, who was now silent, with the sheets thrown away from her upper body in a fit of dreaming, her face shining with light sweat under the moonlight. She looked deceptively serene; he knew that a battle was going on inside of her skull. It was more like a war than anything, fought in the subconscious dream world. In that realm he was completely powerless, and he hated it.
“Are you sure we shouldn’t wake her up?”
“Only if it gets worse. We’ll just keep an eye for now.” John didn’t sound so sure himself of what to do.
“What are you doing?” They turned to Janet Green’s voice as she finished tying a robe belt around her waist. She drew up next to her husband and looked in on Maia. “What’s going on?”
“Maia was talking in her sleep, we were just trying to see if she was all right.” He explained.
She turned to Dave and Dave held up the pizza crust. “Woke up and couldn’t sleep.” He explained.
She nodded and looked back in. “Well she seems okay, so let’s just leave her alone.” She backed away a little.
“Okay.” John said. He reached out for the door and began to close it. Dave took a chunk out of the pizza crust and started to head around them to his room. He could work on some of his music with the headphones on.
Maybe that song I’m working on.
He heard Maia mumble something else before she spoke loudly enough to be heard just before the door was closed.
“…please…” The last word was more of a pained plea than anything, and he felt a splinter of empathy shoot through his chest.
His mother moved past his father and opened the door, his father followed in with her. The mumbling had stopped and he heard them talking to her softly, trying to rouse her peacefully.
Dave moved for the doorway and saw his mother seated on the bed by Maia lifting her into a sitting position. Maia was awake and breathing heavily, the sheen of perspiration still shining in the moonlight.
“You’re fine. You’re fine. It’s okay, Maia.” Janet whispered calmly. As he watched, a creeping sickness sunk in, and he didn’t know quite why.
If you would like to read further, please contact me for a full copy of the rough draft (please specify that is what you would like) at michaelrwright92[at]gmail[dot]com
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