Digital Daggers - Can't Sleep. Can't Breathe.

I was running, hiding from something. It felt like I had been my whole life. I was in the city, down streets and alleys I should have known, but couldn't place. Lamplights and strange shadows swirled by me as I ran, snow blurring my vision. Finally I turned into an alley, too tired to run anymore, and cowered against the cold brick of the building on one side. I was terrified. I had never felt a fear like this, gnawing at my insides, enough to make myself wish I could die before having to face the creature chasing me. I wanted to die, I wished I could. I didn't want him to do it. My hands were shaking, my entire body quivering with fear, with the knowledge that he would find me, he could find anyone. And I had goaded him, I had watched him, seen him, spied on him. How stupid of me to think he wouldn't know, to think he wouldn't come for me...

I had been here before, been in this dream before, but everything was different now, darker, colder, more deadly. The last time it had been Gabriel, the night after he walked into my store. My mind trying to tell me of the monster he was even before I knew they existed. But this time, this time it wasn't just the descendant of a monster, it was the monster in all its heinous glory, in all its power and hate and evil, all that Heaven could create. And it was coming for me. It was him, I knew it, and I knew I was about to die. The last time I had simply seen the creature I feared, but this time I was going to be destroyed by it, by the terrible thing I had watched on the bar's rooftop. How stupid I had been.

And then there he was, a slim man before me, like death, clad in the same black jacket he had worn when I saw him last. If I hadn't known who he was, if I hadn't known what he was, I probably would have thought he looked weak by how small he was. He was tall, many inches taller than myself, but he was thin, so thin it looked like he could be broken by a single blow. I was sure he was insane, sure he had forgotten to eat for days, weeks, during his rampage in the city. No one would let themselves become so emaciated, so gaunt, willingly. Even with a winter coat on I could see he was meant to be a much larger man, maybe he even had been, before he lost himself.

I was too terrified to move, too terrified to even think of trying to escape, trying to fight. I just stood before him, cowering against the wall as he stared down at me, his face hidden in the shadow of his hood, just his pointed teeth gleaming down at me, shining like the moon in a dark, starless sky. His lips curved slowly, until a smirk played with the edges, and my chest tightened again, threatening to stop my heart's frenzied beating altogether. Even slower than his smile, his hand raised, inching closer and closer to me until I wished he would just do it, kill me so I wouldn't have to feel this fear anymore, but that wouldn't be fun for him. He enjoyed this, playing with his prey, watching my terror, knowing my helplessness against him, his smile said as much.

His fingertips were so close I could feel their heat crossing the frozen air to my skin, my neck prickling, my crippling fear keeping me rooted in place like a statue. I was as paralyzed as I had been when I first encountered the Collector, Gabriel's father. Then I felt his hand close around my throat, and I could feel death nearing. He didn't even put any pressure there, but it didn't matter, I knew he could strangle me or snap my bones so quickly I would never know he had moved until my body hit the cold ground. I prayed a silent plea, a prayer that I would wake up, so I could control my emotions and banish the fear I felt, the kind of depth of fear I couldn't even fathom in consciousness.

And then the man, the Fallen, was gone like smoke, vanished, as if he had never been there at all, as if he didn't exist anywhere but in my dream, my mind.

» ✦ «

I woke with my fists balled at my sides, my entire body tensed like a bow. My mantra began as soon as the haze of sleep left my mind.

It was just a dream, just a dream. It wasn't real. It was just a dream.

I woke each time I slept like that, reassuring myself that whatever horror I had witnessed wasn't real, to try and calm myself before I called on my Shift. But immediately I knew my words weren't true, this wasn't a vision or any other Gift I had ever encountered, but it wasn't just a dream either. It was like I had seen her in her own dream, her own nightmare, like I had been in her mind, seeing what she was seeing, but also there in my own capacity. Like it was both our dreams tangled together, but one neither of us could control.

I couldn't help her, I couldn't protect her. I couldn't even control my own body. I had been about to kill her and I knew it, just like she had. It wasn't my dream and it wasn't hers, I was sure of that much. It hadn't come from either of our minds. It had been put there, both of us placed in it like a sick play we had to watch as well as play the lead roles in. How had I been so stupid to not realize until now? To think my nightmares were just side-effects of a worn out mind, of stress and fear and sadness? He was taunting me, my father. I knew it now, his work left a stain in my mind that could only be from him. How could I have missed it for so long?

He knew where she was and he was teasing me with the knowledge. He knew she had seen me on the roof. He knew where I had been, where she had been that night, maybe he even knew now. He was toying with me, reminding me that he was stronger, that he could manipulate her mind and mine just as easily as I could bend a human's. He was playing with her in front of me, dangling his power before my face, showing me how easily he could strip away her sanity, my sanity, how he could twist us anyway he wanted.

I had been so focused on my own feelings after seeing her, I hadn't even considered her reaction. She hadn't known it was me, she thought I was the crazed Fallen the city did. She was terrified of me. I had never seen that kind of fear on her face, in her eyes, and I never wanted to again. I told myself it was just the dream, that her fear was amplified because it wasn't real, because my father had put the fear there, but I knew that wasn't the full truth. She had been afraid of me, terrified of me. And I understood why, I had been about to kill her. I felt the need as I reached out for her. As much as my father had put fear into her mind, he had put anger, violence into mine.

It had taken all my strength to end the dream, to stop its course and wake myself, but I knew that didn't mean I was any closer to being able to encounter my father, not in this way. This was his specialty, his favorite battleground, and all I could do was postpone its inevitable end as long as possible. My mind spun with futile attempts to make a plan, to somehow stop him from being able to use our minds in such a way. He would use these dreams to pull us apart, even more so than we already were, as if the irreparable damage I had done wasn't enough.

I knew he wouldn't be satisfied until we were pitted against each other more than him, until our first enemies were each other, so he could use that hate to keep us. Until he could mold one or both of us into the weapon he so desired. But I wouldn't let that happen. In the very least I would keep our minds separate. Even if I couldn't protect her dreams, I could at least keep her mind safe from mine. Stop him from using her fear of me, her hatred of me. As pitiful as it seemed, as simple an answer as it was, the only solution I could come up with was to sleep at different times, to make sure I never left my mind vulnerable when hers was too. She slept at night, so I would sleep during the light hours. I would keep my dreams to myself, so she wouldn't have the added horror of my mind within hers.

If my father was putting so much effort and energy into blending our dreams, melding our consciousnesses, then I would stop him, even if I didn't know his end game. Playing in dreams was difficult, no matter how much power you boasted, and even if this was only a small corner of his plan, it was the only thing I could stop, the only thing I could combat, for now at least. Until I found him.

He could grab my mind more easily than hers because I was from him. I hoped that meant he would focus on me, his main target, and leave her mind alone, at least for a little while. I just needed more time. My heart sunk a little as I considered all my epiphany meant and I wondered if he had been attacking her mind like he had mine for very long. I shuddered as I remembered some of the nightmares I had gone through. I prayed she hadn't had similar ones.

I wished I could blame my haunting on my father as well, but he couldn't make me see something when I was awake. Even he couldn't manipulate my mind like that, which meant it was my own mind conjuring her, my own mind battling itself. In one sense, I felt calmer knowing my dreams weren't a sign of madness, but that also meant my sightings of the ghost were. A moment later I called my Shift, no longer wanting to think of my sanity or dreams or past or father.

» ✦ «

Things continued on as usual with the Clan, despite everything that seemed to be falling apart within me. I was afraid to sleep, afraid to have a vision, or prophecy, or even just a dream. Afraid I'd see Kael and Nevaeh again, or worse, Gabriel. Afraid I'd dream of the Fallen, afraid he would find me in my sleep somehow. I was afraid of feeling that crushing horror again, afraid of finding my mind's limit. I never wanted to feel terror like that again, to feel death was my only option.

I continued writing every Spoken word I could, though they didn't fade as I'd expected. Each one felt burned into my mind, occupying a permanent space there. I added words almost daily, sharing them with Syn or Chi when they would ask. I was out nearly every night, Syn occasionally joining me, but he still hadn't helped me kill.

I added three lines to my arm within a week. One with my Sign, smashing a Darkling against an alley wall. One with my knives, a perfect throw to pierce a Vampyre's heart. And then a woman, a human, a serial poisoner. I simply pulled the air from her lungs, making them collapse, not even looking at her, not wanting to watch. Humans were so easy to expire it seemed unfair, almost wrong of me to do it. Syn was content to come with me, and hadn't mentioned aiding me since the first night in the bar. He had only witnessed one of my killings, the Darkling, but he didn't mention anything to the Clan about it, which I was oddly thankful for.

He'd told them of our encounter with the Fallen, written out in great detail like a horror novel. I promised Chi I would leave Syn behind, keep him away from the mysterious demon if I ever went out after him, but besides the bar, I hadn't seen or heard of him, of even another death attributed to him. He had disappeared from the city it seemed. The twins said he was probably hibernating until winter ended, but I didn't find their joke funny. I didn't find anything about the gaunt man funny. He was the ultimate predator, something vicious and vile and inhumane, not something to try and find humor in. I hated the awe I felt for him, his power.

I went through varying stages after my meeting of him, one day angry with myself for letting him get away, the next glad I hadn't done something rash and gotten myself or Syn killed. I built him up in my head as an ultimate evil, just because I needed an enemy, a goal. Hating someone was easy for me, their death an end I desperately wanted to reach. Sometimes my hunting seemed to be the only thing that kept me sane, kept me from letting the despair and pain overwhelm me. My hate for my targets made my self-loathing more bearable, my loneliness not take up as much space in my mind. It was replacing one evil for another, but it was the best I could do.

I told myself I wouldn't fear the Fallen as much in real life, that it was the dream that had caused the terror, that I would have reacted differently if it had been real. I tried to prove the fact by constantly hunting for details on him, gathering as much information as I could through Chi and her connections, but I knew the fear in my stomach wasn't just from the dream. I knew he would be just as frightening in real life, but I also knew I wouldn't freeze, I wouldn't stand there waiting for death. I would fight. Even if I would lose, I would fight. And if there was anything I needed, it was a worthy opponent.

Despite the twins' disapproval, Chimarah offered to extend my stay with her, since I was rarely actually in the warehouse. Sometimes I wasn't back for days, hunting like I was now, two nights away, about to make it a third as I stumbled into a long-abandoned, dilapidated house. I dragged myself up the creaking stars until I collapsed in a second-level room at the back, one who's window was decently boarded, who's walls were intact enough to keep out most of the biting wind.

Sometimes I didn't even hunt when I left the comfort of the Clan, sometimes I was just searching. I heard rumors from all over about the Fallen, the monster, but nothing that ever panned out. I pretended to be so many people in the city, always a different name, a different side. It was easy to pretend I was a weak Darkling, my bloodline so diffused it hardly counted, simply an informant for another, and since no one could sense me, my story was rarely challenged. It was pathetic how easily people could be tricked. Lies flowed naturally from my mouth. It disgusted me that that was my nature.

I continued to train with Chimarah, getting better at listening to the air around me, feeling it. Soon I could even block her hits with some degree of consistency. She was becoming a better fighter as well, she had great instincts and even got in a solid hit once when a cringe distracted me, an unwanted memory making my eyes close involuntarily as I tried to contain the pain it brought, the sting that seemed to come without warning. She had taken my pause as an opening to try and knock me out, and if she had straightened her kick and put more strength behind it like I had taught her, she probably would have succeeded.

Her eyes went wide after she hit me, fear in them at how I'd react, but I merely smiled, trying to keep my teeth from pointing at the pain, and told her to try it again, with better form.

I practiced with Syn too on occasion. He hadn't lied when he said he was a better fighter than Chimarah, and I didn't feel quite as guilty when I would land a hit on him a little too hard. He didn't look like a mid-teen so my blows didn't make me feel like I was committing child abuse at least. Spade healed Syn whenever our trainings went too far, though those events became rarer and rarer as Syn learned to predict my moves better, learned to block instead of trying to absorb my blows. He was large, but I was still stronger.

He used his knives sometimes, and occasionally I couldn't dodge them completely, especially when he would fly a few at me simultaneously. He always felt bad when this happened, but I assured him it was good for me, it taught me to prioritize, how to quickly decide which injury I should take to avoid worse ones. It reminded me of Gabriel in an unwanted way, how he could calculate, ready, and recover from an unavoidable blow before it ever landed.

Even with the routines I was creating, as I tried to rebuild myself, I felt a nagging fear in me. All the while as I hunted, all the while as I gathered information about anyone I might judge guilty, all the while as I pretended to be the divine punishment of the city, I was afraid and I hated it. I hated fearing my own mind and nature and past and emotions and everything else. I hated feeling broken. Even my new sense of others' souls, their intentions, a Gift I was sure I hadn't had just a few months previously scared me. I didn't want to become my Pair, I didn't want anything he had, even if it ultimately helped me in my plans. There was so much of myself I didn't understand, and yet I was still changing. Before I could even get a grasp on who I was, I became something else, something worse. It was yet another battle I had every day, something I didn't tell anyone, not even Syn.

A week with the Clan stretched to two seamlessly, then three, and though I was miserable, sometimes I went a full day without thinking of my old life. The pain was still there, the anger, the hurt, but at least I was sometimes spared from having specific thoughts of it, pictures or memories. My only small but pure enjoyment was when Syn and I would sit and clean our knives, speaking quietly in our special way.

I told him stories of growing up in the normal world, which he never seemed to tire of and he showed me memories of growing up in a Clan, his one before Chimarah, who had broken up after a disagreement on principles. They had taught him to control himself, how to be passive, how to live without his Shift, without the bulk of his power. His strength and compassion amazed me, though I politely disagreed with many of his ideals.

Those few hours with him were often the only reason I returned to the warehouse at all, just so I could see him and talk to him and soak up the constantness he emanated, the stillness that surrounded him. In many ways he was my peace, or the closest thing to it I could find. He was my sole guilty pleasure. He was my friend, though I tried to show it as rarely as possible. He never got upset about my distance, he seemed to understand it. He seemed to understand everything, accept everything. It hurt to know someone so good was fooled by me, he truly thought I was good, kind, a decent person.

To the rest of the Clan I was a myth, they didn't even understand what being a Half really meant, they just knew they should fear me, but Syn had seen my past, my power. He knew more of my nature than the others, he had learned from growing up with a Clan many of the same things I had learned from my Clan, read the same books, heard the same horror stories and he still accepted me. He was what I wished my Clan had been, but at the same time it only made me more disgusted in myself, that I could have a friend in someone like him, that he thought I wasn't the monster I knew I was. That was my nature, deceit and lies and hiding all the terrifying parts, making those less deceptive trust in me.

Regardless of how I felt about myself, I couldn't give up Syn or our time together. Sometimes I tried, leaving the warehouse for two or three days, sleeping only as much as I had to in abandoned buildings like the one I now laid in, or wherever was warm enough, but I always ended up missing him. At least I told myself I missed him, but I knew the truth was that it was all selfishness. I didn't truly miss him, I only missed how he made me feel, normal, human, like I could put my haunted mind to rest, if only for a couple of hours, like I wasn't falling apart. He made me feel like I had with my own Clan, before I knew what I was, like I could be good if I tried hard enough, like my fate wasn't already decided. And I needed those feelings, I needed to believe I still had a choice.