Purpose Read Free

see her
looking anything but vulnerable, though she only wore a short,
baby-doll nightgown. Petite, but tough. She stood with her body
tense, coiled and ready to fight, as her narrowed eyes scanned the
room. Then she rushed to my side and braced her hands on each side
of my face. She seemed to appraise every inch of me.
    “I’m fine,” I muttered, pulling my face from
her grip.
    “You don’t sound or look fine.”
    “You scared the crap out of me.” I lay back
down and closed my eyes. “And I had a bad dream. That’s all.”
    She stood there for a long moment and I could
feel her eyes still on me. I never heard her footsteps, but the
light switched off and the door clicked softly in the latch when
she left. Mom was used to me having bad dreams. She had no need to
question me.
     
    When I awoke again, sunlight streamed under
the blinds, creating narrow lines of light on the boring beige
carpet by my bed. I lay on my stomach and stared at the floor for a
while, not wanting to be awake. Then I remembered the dream—not the
usual memory-dream, but the new one. I turned over and looked
around the room. Of course, no evidence of the vampire. He was just
a dream, but it had felt so real and was just so uncharacteristic.
Last night was the first time I’d dreamt of anything but those
memories since the day my husband disappeared into enemy hands.
    Then I remembered the other anomaly of the
night. The whispered promise. But neither the lovely voice nor the
memory-dream had returned the rest of the night. Damn
vampire . I closed my eyes and tried to pull the face I wanted
to see into my vision. A pointless effort. Only a vague image
appeared. I was forgetting.
    As time had passed on, as the conscious
memories faded, the feeling Tristan was still alive weakened. For
the first few years, I’d felt his presence and the grief of living
without him nearly consumed me. Eventually, a fog drifted in and
settled, dulling the pain…and the memories. Foggy Alexis arrived
and I liked her. She kept me numb during the day, allowing memories
only at night, when I slept. But now the dullness seemed to be
permanently obscuring my conscious memories and dissolving our
connection.
    Forcing myself to let it go, I focused my
mind on the only things I’d been able to focus on for the last
seven years: my son and my writing. Dorian served as the bright
spot in my otherwise black life. He lit my path, keeping me from
straying away into the complete darkness of insanity. If his father
hadn’t already set precedence, it would be hard to believe I could
love anyone as much as I loved Dorian.
    I sighed heavily and made myself stand up. I
already felt today was not a good day. I felt all wrong. Something
inside ticked, like a time bomb. I had a warped sense of time, but
I was sure it had been a while since I’d had a really bad day.
Since Psycho Alexis had made an appearance. Perhaps those two new
dreams had something to do with my mood. Or maybe I had too many
pent-up emotions, making me ready to blow.
    Suck it up for now. Need to say
good-bye .
    It was after eight and Mom was probably
getting Dorian ready for school. I wanted to say good-bye to him.
Then I could lose myself in my writing.
    “Hi, Mom!” Dorian greeted as I trudged into
the kitchen. His face lit up, his mouth stretched into that
all-too-familiar, beautiful smile and his eyes sparkled. He pulled
his jacket on, getting ready to leave. I almost missed him. If I
had, Psycho probably would have taken over immediately. But since
he was still here, brightening my morning, I could enjoy a few
minutes of being Almost Alexis.
    “Hey, little man.” I ruffled his hair—the
snow-white color had been unexpected, but I had a feeling a
similar-looking towhead had been running around a couple-hundred
years ago—and gave him a big smile, too. Only Dorian could elicit a
real smile from me. “You ready for school?”
    He shrugged. “I guess. Just today and
tomorrow and then it’s Spring Break.