I throw my head back, close my eyes, and sigh. My nightmare still plays inside my head again like a mantra, vivid and unforgettable. I picture it once more in my mind’s eye—my own personal cinema. Tonight’s show is a horror movie and I have the best seat in the house…
…He bursts into the room, a dark foreboding faceless figure, all but for his dark brooding eyes. A woman screams and cradles a baby close to her bosom, cowering in a corner.
“NO! You can’t take him. I won’t let you!”
She places the baby on the floor; her face a mixture of love and regret as she takes in the baby’s delicate features. When she turns back to the man and her expression has changed. It’s as though a mask has been placed on her face. It’s a complete contrast to the look of love that shone from her features moments ago. Now, her eyes are filled with rage. Her lips are curled back into a snarl. She stands straight and defiant thrusting her shoulders back, ready to fight for her child.
Unfazed by the open challenge, the man holds a wooden stake in one hand; the other is balled into a tight fist.
The woman cries out. It’s a low guttural noise deep in her throat; the sound is a mixture of despair and fury, before lurching forward, hands reaching out towards the man’s throat. He stands fast, holding a bold hand in a halting sign, but the gesture does more than merely warn off the woman. She stops mid-flight, hovering and frozen, floating like a phantom in the air a foot off the floor—locked in her wrath.
The man lowers his hand and takes his first step into the room. He calmly strides up to the woman and stops in front of her face. He stares intensely into her eyes. His are soulless black onyxes, cold like stone, emotionless. Hers are icy blue[, but still aware, and though they do not move, panic flickers in them like the dancing white flames of fire. The exchange lasts seconds, but in that fleeting moment, a hidden message is exchanged between them.
In one swift motion, the man raises his hand high, and without hesitation, he drives the stake down hard, plunging it deep into the motionless woman’s heart. The woman doesn’t cry out. She falls from the air and her lifeless body makes an ugly thud as it hits the floor.
The baby begins to whimper, and the man turns his head in the direction of the noise, as if suddenly remembering why he is there. He stands astride the dead woman, checking for life.
Satisfied, he places a foot on the woman’s chest and bears down heavily to pull the stake free. Then he turns and makes his way purposely to the baby, a sense of urgency in his stride—the stake, firm in his grip, dripping a crimson trail on the floorboards …
A cool breeze licks across the perspiration on my bare chest and pulls me from my reveries.
When I went to bed last night I had no intention of flying halfway around the world to meet a stranger who knows who I am, and knows of my secrets, but I know nothing about him—or her… Now, after yet another nightmare I’m undecided.
Big Ben jolts me from my thoughts as it begins to chime, and by the time it reaches its sixth chime; I’ve made my mind up.
I want answers.