Alair jerked up with a gasp. Sweat streamed down from his brow and soaked into the pillow. Tossing his blankets off, the scroll slowly extricated himself from the soaked bedding.
Limbs trembling from the aftereffects of the nightmare Alair slowly made his way to the old bathroom. Splashing his face with water the teen stared at his face in the mirror.
"It's just a dream." He tried to tell his reflection matter-of-factly. The trmor in his voice betrayed the confidence of the statement. "It's not real," he added on, voice steadying a bit. It had been so real though.
The twisted body on the table shivered with fever. Huge black bubbles covered the neck, armpits, even the groin. Dark red veins snaked out from the pustles, creating a spiderweb of infection. Fingers that should have been dexterious were swollen and black.
"No...more..." the figure hacked out wetly.
"A little more. You'll be all better soon," the lying words slipped out from his mouth as Alair brought a bloody and rusted knife to one of the black knots.
The figure writhed in agony as blood and pus welled out from the knife wound.
Clenching the porcelain bowl, Alair jerked over and vomited. Panting, Alair reached blindly for a towel.
"Here," came the deep steadying voice of his father as a towel was placed in his grasp. Avoiding looking at Mort, Alair wet the towel and began to clean up.
"Alair-" Mort started before sighing. "You can..talk about it... if you want," he finished weakly.
It wasn't surprising to see Alair keeping the nightmares to himself. Ever since that Halloween night the boy had been trying his hardest to make things easier on him, even though Mort still hadn't explained exactly what had happened.
Mort knew it was getting worse. This week alone Alair had already had three nightmares that he knew of. And working nights didn't exactly mean he was home most nights either.
"Thanks," the word broke in on Mort's introspection. Alair slipped the towel into the dirty hamper as he tried to smile reassuringly. "I'm fine," he lied, hoping his father couldn't catch the trembling in his legs from adrenaline or the circles under his eyes from lack of sleep in the dim bathroom light.
Mort shook his head and backed out from the doorway. "Anytime. If... well, anytime," he finally settled on saying.
Alair paused on his way out, staring intently at his dad, trying to explain everything without the actual words. "I know. Love you, Dad."
Mort forced a smile onto his face to mask the concern. "Get some rest," was all he replied, though Alair could feel the love behind it."
Alair nodded before trudging back to his room. There were still three hours before dawn and he knew what he would be doing. Staring at the clock as it counted down each and every second.
