“Watch out!”
Card 2: Bad Dream Remedy
A tall drink of water
[Ella]
It’s been another rough night for me. The nightmares surfaced, dragging me under. I woke early, too afraid to return to sleep. Deciding to get out of bed, I worked on another clothing design, fidgeting with the color, the fit, and the prospect. The computer software is amazing, but I can’t wait to have the fabric in my hand and a pattern to work with. I’m not a designer by trade, but I am learning.
A new career. A life shift.
All changes were against my decision, which reminds me of my nightmare.
I push harder, running faster down the well-worn road despite the gravelly ground. The deep woods surrounding my stepbrother’s home are quite a change in scenery from the ocean-front property where I once lived. Jacob lives on a body of water—Lake Michigan—but it doesn’t compare to the Pacific. People from around the world crave the shores of California. I don’t know anyone who says they long to see a giant lake.
Then again, I’m perfectly happy to be here.
Well, maybe not exactly happy, and I’m definitely no longer perfect.
The thought presses me forward, my heart racing as fast as my legs. With Evanescence screaming in my ears, I let the scolding music fill my head and will away all thoughts. The thundering combination of screechy music and my hammering heart prevents me from hearing the approach of something reckless until it knocks into my foot, causing me to pitch forward and land hard. My hands hit the dirt, instantly cutting tender skin. The force ricochets up my arms, rattling my teeth. I’m fortunate I didn’t hit my face, but nothing would be an improvement. My knees fold, slamming into the gravel road, and a few pebbles embed in my thick spandex running pants.
“What the hell?” I yell. Yanking an ear pod from my ear, I spin to my backside, examining my hands, which are sliced from the small, sharp rocks. I squeeze my fingers into my palms to stop the throbbing. The occasional vehicle along this relatively deserted road belongs to those who live along the path, and I’ve never seen or heard a motorcycle on it before. And a motorcycle tire is what’s skidded to a stop inches from me.
My gaze rolls upward, and I glare at the large being who holds his metal beast from tipping over completely, wrangling it under one solid leg while the other keeps him upright. He stands at an odd angle, but even without his full height, I sense that he’s tall. His stature is broad. My eyes leap to his hands on the handlebars, noting the thickness of his fingers and the fullness of his paw.
He isn’t here to hurt you, whispers through my head, but I can’t be certain. Never certain. My heart thunders within my chest, roaring louder than that motorcycle must have been because I didn’t hear it approach.
I tug off my knit cap, the one I use to hold all my hair up and off my neck. Thick streams of autumn-colored strands fall over my shoulders. These locks, which kink and curl and cascade to my breast in waves of honey-blond, bright orange, and red highlights, were once my signature gift. My hair made me stand out. Now, it’s my face, and I want to disappear.
The biker tugs his helmet off, and a rush of wild, dark brown curls flops around his head, curving over his ears and rolling along his neck. He’s angelic-looking, and that’s when I know he’s the devil. No man should be so beautiful. He probably knows he’s an Adonis.
His caramel-colored eyes widen as he stares down at me, and his mouth forms a perfect circle of shock. My swollen, raw palm lifts for the right side of my face, but I can’t cover it completely. My hand isn’t large enough, and the damage runs from cheek to throat.
“Are you all right?” he asks. His voice rough as if he’s out of breath. The sound tumbles from his throat like the gravel on this road.
Without answering him, I turn my face, keeping my left profile to him. I can’t meet his eyes. I can’t witness the disgust in them.
He saw me. He saw my face.
I wince as I place my hand on the rough surface under me and press myself upward to stand.
“Let me help you,” he offers from my side.
“No!” I hold up both hands, my head still awkwardly turned so only my left side faces him.
“You’re bleeding,” he states. I sense him shift as if adjusting to get off his bike. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you—”
“Because the bright orange shirt didn’t give me away?” I snark, commenting on my attire, as I finish pushing myself upward from the ground. I wear this highlighter orange color because I don’t want to be mistaken for a wild animal in the woods. Jacob tells me people aren’t allowed to hunt this close to homes, but I don’t trust the gunfire I’ve heard in the year I’ve lived here. This community is filled with hunters, and I don’t want to be mistaken as anyone’s prey.
I’ll never be the prey again.
“I … shit. I’m so sorry. I looked up for only a second, and then you were there,” he says as if that explanation provides a good excuse.
“Haven’t you ever been told to keep your eyes on the road? Maybe you should look where you’re going on that thing,” I suggest, gesturing at his motorcycle. My tone remains harsh. My hands are still held out in front of me, warning him to keep his distance. It’s hard to keep my eye on him when it’s only one eye, but I don’t want him coming closer to me.
“Let me just—”
“No!” I yell again as I hear the crunch of his boot, the heaviness crushing the pebbles at his feet. With the echo of my command, I stand straighter and then bolt, throwing myself into the thickness of the woods on the side of the drive. I just want to disappear from his discerning gaze.
“Wait!” he calls after me. But I’m already sprinting, dodging the thick roots of the large trees and pushing through the underbrush. My orange shirt gives away my direction, but I can only hope I outrun him, making my way to the waterline before he catches me. If he’s even following me. Without looking back, I continue racing toward the lake down below. If I need to toss myself in the cool water, so be it. I’ll do anything just to get away from his pity-filled eyes and the fear of him touching me.
+ + +
Reaching the water’s edge, I change course and run to the dock behind Jacob’s property. I don’t care that I’m fully dressed. I don’t admit to the stench coming from my body after the exertion of running. The smell is also part fear, part panic. After scampering down the wooden planks, I collapse into my kayak. With shaky fingers, I untie the line from the metal stake and press off the wooden structure. With more effort than strength, I lift the oar and paddle away from the shore.
I typically tell Jacob when I go out on the lake because he worries about me. He’s been so good to me, and I don’t want to cause him more concern. His upcoming book tour has him worried enough. He doesn’t want to leave me alone despite my assurances I’ll be fine. He doesn’t believe me and for good reason. I haven’t always proven I can be left to my own devices. Then again, there were things cruelly taken from me. Jacob’s been the one constant in my life. The one person good to me. He’s the only one who didn’t walk away from me after … I shake the negative thought and shift them to the man on the motorcycle.