The girl steps toward me. “What happened to you?”
“Me? Nothing?”
She tips her head and reveals a large scar running from her neck to her shoulder. “I had an accident.”
The fog rolls into my mind again, a memory of lying in the road blinding me. No. I’m dreaming. I dig my nails into my palms and look down. The pain registers; I’m not dreaming. I glance back at the red-haired girl, but she’s gone. Shaking my head, I stumble backwards, trip over my own feet and land on the floor with a thud.
A chair scrapes and light floods into the hallway from the kitchen. I squint up at Alek, Lizzie standing just behind him.
“What happened?” he asks.
“The girl…”
Before I can finish the words, Alek comes over to me and leans over. “Don’t talk about her.”
“Help her up, Alek.” Lizzie’s voice is harder.
“No.”
I struggle into a sitting position. Lizzie remains in the doorway, watching us curiously. “I don’t need help,” I say.
“Did the girl touch you?” he asks quietly.
“No. Why?” What is his issue with people touching me?
“Nothing.”
“What’s going on?”
Alek moves his mouth close to my ear. “Don’t say anything else.”
The side of my face tingles as his breath touches my skin, as if his lips had brushed my cheek.
He pushes himself to his feet and steps between Lizzie and me. “Maybe you should go to bed.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
“You can’t be comfortable sitting on the floor all night. Come on, Casper, up you get.”
His sudden change in demeanour surprises me until he moves his eyes to indicate Lizzie behind us. Understanding, I climb to my feet. The ground lurches, and I’m glad I have the wall to steady myself on. Evidently, Alek doesn’t want to touch me because he doesn’t help.
Dragging one heavy foot in front of another, I climb the stairs, listening for any further conversation between Lizzie and Alek.
“Sweet dreams, Casper!” calls Alek, and I grit my teeth. That is getting very old, very quickly.
As I lie in bed, turning thoughts over in my head, I’m unable to put any puzzle pieces together in my cotton-wool brain.
***
Alek appears in the doorway bare-chested in his low-slung trackies. A cup of chamomile tea steams in front of me, and I shiver in my flannel PJs, wondering how he can stand to walk around semi-naked in the cold of the night. I come down to the kitchen most nights because of the nightmares and Alek often appears, too. The Alek who sits with me at these times is different, one who’s less guarded and occasionally polite. The meetings are becoming more regular, and I toy with the idea he’s doing this deliberately.
“Couldn’t sleep?” he asks.
“Weird dreams.”
Alek walks in and takes a beer from the fridge. “Yeah? Good or bad?”
What do I say to him? I’m currently unsure if I’m still dreaming or how much of the night was a dream. I thought the fog dreams from the night I almost died were bad enough, but this is weirder still.
“Did I dream tonight?” I ask him.
“You just told me you did.”
“No, did I dream tonight?” Alek sits opposite me and cracks open his beer. I incline my head to his bottle. “It’s four am.”
“So? And which part of tonight do you think you dreamt?”
My eyes sting with the need for sleep and my body aches. “I don’t know. All of it. Red-haired girls, conversations in kitchens, collapsing…And weird stuff at the hospital. Nearly passing out.”
The bottle stops short at Alek’s mouth; instead of drinking, he places it on the table. “Passing out?”
I shake a dismissive hand. “Yeah. I do sometimes.”
“Was Finn with you?”
“What difference does that make?”
“Did he touch you?”
“Whoa, there you go again…why do you keep asking me the same question? I don’t think I’m so irresistible every person I come across feels the need to touch me?”
He doesn’t reply and drinks from his bottle instead. The light from the street reflects in his eyes as he watches me.
“Who’s the girl with red hair?” I blurt.
“Just a visitor. Clarissa.”
“Why didn’t you want me to mention her earlier?”
“Lizzie is a bit odd about who I bring here.”
I smirk at the irony. “Really? Must be a thing about people who live here not wanting the others to have guests.”
He frowns. “Clarissa’s different.”
My stomach sinks. “So, she’s your girlfriend?”
Alek’s laugh has a harshness that reminds me of his reaction to Finn. “No.”
I rub my forehead; I’m too tired for this. Leaning over my cup, I inhale the fragrance of the chamomile, hoping it will soothe me. I look over my mug at Alek.
“Tell me what’s happening.”
“Happening?” He swigs his beer, feigning nonchalance.
Fine. “I’m thinking about leaving.”
For the second time, I manage to arrest him mid-drink. “Leaving?”
“Are you just going to repeat everything I say?”