Sleep Keeper (4 page)

“Help me,” he whimpered with his face pressed against the concrete.

I felt wetness trickle from my stomach and down my thigh. I forced myself to ignore the shards of pain tearing through my insides as I wiggled out from under him. I crawled a few feet away on my hands and knees. I turned back toward the fallen man; his body was completely still. A cleaver lay on the ground, partially covered by his long black hair. A pool of blood was forming underneath him. His pallid skin was deathly white.

“Thank you
,
” escaped his lips in a whisper.

Fighting through the pain, I crawled father out from behind the dumpster, leaving a trail of bloody hand prints behind me.

“Help!” I bellowed, as I pressed down on my wound to stop the flow of blood. I looked down my hand, crimson red as the blood gushed from underneath it.

Oh my God, this is bad… don’t panic.

I was too scared to inspect the damage further. Suddenly, footsteps approached as two pre-teen boys jogged toward me.

“Are you okay?” one of the boys asked as he paused in front of me. “Did you fall?” He reached down to help me up.

The other boy stood a few feet away looking particularly uninterested. I reached for his hand and was shocked at how easy it was for me to stand up. My vision had cleared and the throbbing pain in my head and abdomen disappeared. I looked down at my clean hands - not a drop of blood on them. I tore at my clothes, examining my body frantically. Everything looked fine.

The boys stared at me like I was a crazed animal at the zoo. I quickly turned back toward the fallen man, but there was nothing more than the dirty cement. I turned back toward the boys with my mouth hung open.

“Are you okay?” he asked again with a pitiful stare. “Do you need any help?”

“I… don’t… understand…” was all I managed to spit out, as I searched around the alley.

I ran back to the dumpster and peered inside. There was nothing but a few bags of trash.

The other boy started to mock me and tug at his friend’s arm. “Come on man, she’s nuts,” he exclaimed while he glared at me, like I was wasting his precious time.

“Do you want me to call someone for you?” the first boy asked, reaching for my shoulder.

“No… I’m okay. I’m sorry. I must have fallen and hit my head,” I stammered.

The ill-mannered boy snickered at my feeble attempt to brush away my insanity. “Looks like you lost your food,” he tittered as he pointed to the mess on the ground that used to be my dinner.

“Yeah...” I stammered, still trying to make sense of what happened. “Hey, uh, thanks,” I muttered while turning to walk out of the alley.

My eyes darted throughout the alley as I walked away. When we reached the parking lot, we parted ways and I climbed into my car, locking the doors quickly. I placed my shaky hands on the steering wheel and sucked in deep breaths to calm down.

What just happened?

I must have hit my head, but... I don’t remember falling. Maybe I passed out. I rubbed my hands over my head, searching for the point of impact. I felt no sore spot. I lifted up my shirt and inspected my stomach. Not a scratch on me.

As I pulled down my shirt, my finger caught a tear, about three inches wide. It was a clean slice with no other snags surrounding it. I inspected the tear but found nothing else, no blood or dirt. I looked out toward the alley and stared intensely at its opening, not sure what I expected to see. After several minutes of staring at nothing, I started the engine and drove home in a trance.

I arrived home quicker than I should have and rushed inside to safety. I walked straight into the bedroom and sat on my bed. Mitchell was just getting out of the shower and proceeded to tell me all about his hike as he dressed. He didn’t notice my shaking hands, distressed expression or torn shirt… typical.

My brain didn’t comprehend his words. I couldn’t think of anything except the image of that man lying dead in the alley. I only stole a glance of the side of his face through his hair, but he was fairly young, maybe early twenties. The pleading tone in his voice sounded afraid, not vicious.

Mitchell babbled on for another minute then offered to make dinner in exchange for my dishwashing duties. I agreed to his proposal and decided not to tell him about my detour to Luigi’s. I wasn’t sure what actually happened, let alone felt comfortable enough to explain it without sounding loony. I let it go and tried to forget that it ever occurred.

As the last of the water drained from the sink, I gazed out the kitchen window into the dimly lit courtyard. A few dozen stars sprinkled the night’s sky as supple gray clouds slowly drifted across the moon. It was a full moon and the crickets were singing their sweet symphony. It was already past my bedtime, but I wasn’t quite ready for tomorrow to come yet. I walked out of the kitchen and into the living room. I curled onto the couch and grabbed my computer, checking my email, and then flipping on the television. Nothing on, of course. It was the beginning of summer and all of my favorite shows were over for the season, leaving me with not many options to escape reality.

I flipped from boring channel to boring channel. Before I knew it, an hour flew by and I decided, reluctantly, that I should go to sleep. Mitchell was already sprawled across the bed reading a magazine. The alarm clock was scheduled to scream in less than six hours, so I quickly kissed him goodnight and rolled over, facing the outside of the bed. Sighing, he caught my subtle hint and turned off the light.

I closed my eyes. I felt in a slump. The party and alley incident left me mentally exhausted. My head swam with a list of things I needed to do. With an overwhelming list of projects at summer school and Mom’s house, there was always something left undone. Although I was usually content, I couldn’t help but think about the events in my life that led me here.

In high school, I wasn’t interested in partying. I focused all my free time on either studying or hanging out with Mitchell. Now that high school was over and I was in my second year of college, I should be making lifetime memories and experiencing new things. But I still spent most of my free time studying, working, or checking on Mom. Then throw in a few hours of Mitchell and me watching TV before bed. I sort of envied some of my old high school friends who didn’t go to college. Their daily stress was what to wear tonight or which party to attend. Yeah, ten years from now they will probably be working at some retail store folding clothes for minimum wage, but still… my youth was passing by too fast with nothing happening… living the same day over and over… never enjoying the freedom that I should. School. Work. Mom. School. Work. Mom. Isn’t that for middle-aged people?

But, to be honest with myself, I couldn’t handle socializing day in and day out with those people either. Talking about the meaningless jibber jab; gossiping like high school all over again. Was there a happy medium? I daydreamed of the day I graduate college and move away from all of this. Live somewhere less intense. I would spend a few hours at my dream job, then come home and play with my kids, pick vegetables from the garden and have dinner with my family and true friends. My weekends would be filled with barbecues and hikes… and to top it off, the sun would always shine and I would never grow old. Hey, if this was my dream I could have whatever I wanted.

Back to reality though, I should have enjoyed life more. I should have tried new activities, new foods, and new adventures. I should have travel, learned something new, attended plays and musicals, threw parties and stayed up late laughing and drinking with friends. But… Mitchell and I really didn’t have many friends left. Most of our friends moved on and found new groups. I have too much studying to learn something new, not enough money to take a vacation, and I spent my weekends at Mom’s taking care of her house.

My parents both decided to retire early together last year and they were the happiest I had ever seen them. Dad’s death shortly after was unexpected. He was in good health and there were no warning signs, at least any we knew of. Mom had come inside from gardening one afternoon and found him lying on the bedroom floor, dead. Heart attack.

Since then, Mom hadn’t been the same. It took months to simply get her dressed and out of the house. She ate very little and spoke even less. It broke my heart to see her in such pain. She looked as though she had lost her soul mate. She probably had.

The hardest decision I made was to move out anyway. Mitchell’s parents were not hurting for money, so when they bought a condo close to campus for us both, we couldn’t refuse. Mom was excited for me. She loved Mitchell and wanted me to go live my life. My dad thought I was too young to live with a boy, regardless if that boy had been attached to my hip for eight years. He was adamant that I not move in. That was right before he passed away.

When my freshman year of college started, I couldn’t dare to leave Mom alone. At the end of the year, Mom and I debated back and forth about it. I didn’t want to leave her alone, but she insisted I go. In the end, I decided that I wanted to start living my adult life, so last month I moved in with Mitchell. Since, Mom had taken a turn downhill. She wasn’t taking care of the house or yard, wasn’t eating properly, and was even more distant. I couldn’t help but wonder if she would get better if I moved back in with her. I felt selfish for not running back to her, but I wanted to live my own life. Was that wrong?

Even though I moved out, I stopped by daily after class and work. One would think my brother would help out, but that was hardly the case. He was always self-absorbed in some new demented element of his life.

Jeremy was three years older than me but you couldn’t tell from his behavior. One Easter at my grandparents’ house when Jeremy was four years old, he wandered alone into their backyard. They had a chain-linked fence around their pool, but on that day, it was not locked. The rest of the family was in the house preparing for Easter dinner and didn’t notice that Jeremy slipped away. They found his body floating face down in the water. After a debatable amount of time, depending on who was rehashing the story, they revived him. No one was sure how long he was unconscious but Mom claimed he was never the same after. Since I was just a baby at the time, I didn’t know the difference.

Regardless of the cause, Jeremy never associated with me much growing up. He pretended I didn’t exist most of the time, which suited me just fine. There was something off with him. Our eyes rarely met, but when they did, I felt like I was looking into a heartless monster – or maybe that was what all sisters thought of their brothers - in any case, I avoided crossing his path whenever possible.

Jeremy’s life also seemed to be filled with unfortunate incidents. I could no longer have pets because they always
mysteriously
disappeared. My parents dismissed his behavior as a result of his ‘extenuating circumstances’ caused by the pool incident, as if nearly downing would somehow alter your personality.

When he was thirteen years old, he was arrested for trying to stab another teenage boy over a girl. He claimed ‘the voices’ told him too. He always had some lame excuse. The other boy disarmed Jeremy without getting hurt. My parents were able, like they always were, to talk Jeremy out of trouble. By sixteen, he spent most of his days working at a warehouse and his evening out with his friends. My parents tried to force him to stay in school but he struggled with his classes and was suspended more times than I recalled. They finally gave up and let him drop out.

When he was seventeen, Jeremy robbed a woman outside of an ATM at gunpoint. He didn’t know that her husband and two young children were waiting in the car nearby. Her husband intervened and Jeremy shot him while the kids watched from the car window. Jeremy fled but what arrested later that evening. Sadly, the man died on the way to the hospital. Jeremy claimed the shooting was an accident, but was found guilty of manslaughter and spent the next five years in prison. Mom and Dad visited him often but I never did.

He was released earlier this year and hooked up with a woman who had an equally distasteful past, Anna. They live in a small apartment on the other side of town. Mom now blamed his cold disposition on his time in prison, but I knew the hate that lied within him has been there all along. Luckily, since his release, I was only forced to see him on holidays or special occasions, which actually occur more often than you would think.

Mitchell began snoring beside me, which reminded me that I should try to get some sleep. My eyelids felt heavy as the events of the day had taken their toll and exhaustion crept in. My body felt denser, my muscles relaxed and all the tension dispersed into the darkness. I closed my eyes and let my thoughts melt away as the darkness caved in deeper… to blackness.

Instantly, I was revitalized. A cool breeze brushed several strands of hair against my face and the sun warmed my skin. I opened my eyes to familiar surroundings.

I must be asleep.

Statuesque trees and dense shrubs surrounded me. My feet were planted softly in the grass. I looked around at the iridescent scenery, confirming the vast world I had entered. I was dressed in a pair of my tan pants and tank top; thankfully not the cotton pajamas I went to bed in. I strolled down the dirt path ahead. My steps were weightless. The life of the forest was singing a melody that made me smile. Birds chirped from the branches and creatures scuttled in the nearby brush. I never thought of myself before as a ‘nature girl’, but in this place the wind’s soft whisper against the trees soothed me deeply.

I walked for merely five minutes before I came upon Orion, like a magnetic force drawing me to him. He was kneeling on the ground, inspecting something nearby. He greeted me with a smile as I approached.

“Hi there,” he welcomed, remaining on the ground.

My stomach fluttered at the sound of his voice. “Hi,” I beamed back. “What are you looking at?”

“Come, take a look,” he motioned me down with enthusiasm.

I joined him on the ground and watched a small colony of insects march across the rocks and disappear into the dirt. I leaned in closer to examine their exquisite markings. Vivid colors of red and blue split their round bodies. They had a faded yellow marking down the middle. They were about the size of a dime and wiggled as they moved.

“They’re so cute,” I whispered, trying not to disturb them.

“They’re called cloaker bugs. Hey, watch this,” he said with a glint of excitement in his eyes.

He rose and stomped a foot near the bugs. They instantly disappeared.

“Whoa, where’d they go?” I asked.

Orion appeared pleased by my surprise. “They can camouflage into their surroundings. When they’re startled and hold still, it looks as if they’ve disappeared.”

I squinted my eyes and leaned so close I was sure they could feel my breath. I could barely see the faint outlines of their bodies. “I guess that’s why they’re called cloaker bugs, huh?”

Ten more seconds of silence passed by, then their color returned and they continued their journey across the rocks. I stood up and faced Orion. He was roughly 6’2” with broad shoulders and a slender waist. I followed the entire length of his body with my eyes before meeting his stare. His eyes dazzled against the sun.

“You have pretty eyes,” he said softly, looking down at me.

I was stunned by his words and slightly abashed. I wasn’t used to getting compliments from men, Mitchell aside.

“Funny, I was thinking the same thing about you. My eyes are just plain brown,” I rebutted.

Orion stared intently in my eyes. “There is nothing plain about you Alexis, especially your eyes. A rich and lustrous chestnut color with swirls of brown textures like that of an ancient oak.” His words were as smooth as his voice.

“Wow, um, thank you,” I stuttered.

I looked away, embarrassed from the compliment but flattered. It only took a moment of my eyes not on his to feel a deep longing to gaze back into his stare. I glanced back into his hazel eyes and saw a momentary flash of light, a spark. My body raged with an intense yearning. This feeling was still immature and raw to me; it was hard to control. It took every shred of restraint not to kiss him. I had never wanted anyone so badly in my life. I bit my lip to resist the urge.

“I was just going for a hike. Do you want to join? Or we could do something else if you wish,” he asked, breaking the tension.

“A hike’s perfect,” I answered and let out a deep breath. How thoughtful that he was willing to change his plans for me if I desired.

We hiked through the forest and Orion pointed out the different plants, animals and insects that we encountered. He was well versed in the subject and eager to share his vast knowledge. His face lit up each time I asked a question. I enjoyed his refreshing enthusiasm.

After a long while, we came upon a pond in a small valley hidden among the tress. A family of ducks floated by, leaving minute ripples across the otherwise still water. The more time I spend there, the more impressed I became with this dream - this world.

“Wow,” I gasped.

I turned toward Orion and felt a quick pull… and then everything shifted to black. I blinked and focused my sight on the cedar ceiling above. I sat up and glanced around my bedroom, dimly lit by the early morning sun.