Chapter 7 Visions

-A gigantic cloud of smoke rising from several burning houses.

-Crows pecking a tree.

-A handwritten note.

-A man screaming in pain.

Kevin kept seeing these four images in his sleep, and in this order; houses on fire, blackbirds sitting on a tree, a name written on a paper note, and a man screaming as he was being tortured.

Kevin was having another disturbing nightmare. His grip on the bed sheet tightened, and drops of sweat gathered at his forehead. His head turned, eyes remained close, chest heaving rapidly.

And once again, images of burning houses, blackbirds on a tree, a finely written note with a name on it, and a man screaming, flashed through his head. His body was hunched, his breathing hastened and fingers clenched together.

Kevin—screaming, woke from the nightmare, a horrified look on his face. That was the second dream he’d had in one night. Panting, he sat up straight on the bed, his palms sweaty and his face wet with sweat. He looked up at the big clock that hung on the wall.

3:14 am

The door swung open, and Cedric rushed in with a lamp held up above his head. “Are you alright?” he brought the lamp closer to Kevin to examine him.

“I’m fine,” he breathed, eyes still filled with shock. “It’s just another bad dream.”

Of course Cedric knew better than to take his words for it. Kevin wasn’t fine—in fact, he was greatly troubled, and it was quite obvious. He held the lamp a bit closer to his face. “I told you already, you need to see a therapist. I could have one arranged for…”

“I said I’m fine.” he scowled, before raising his voice. “I do not need any therapist.” He strained his eyes from the bright lamp Cedric held against his face. “And could you take that thing away from me? It’s hurting my eyes.”

Kevin pushed the lamp away, turning his face. Cedric moved the lamp away from him and placed it on the table beside the bed.

Kevin felt his throat burn and climbing out of bed, he walked to the door. “I could use some soda right now.”

“There’s one in the fridge.”

Without a word, he left the room into the kitchen. Opening the fridge, he pulled out a cold bottle of soda, opened it, and gulped on its content while staring at his reflection in the mirror.

He was disappointed at how baggy his eyes looked, obviously from not getting enough sleep lately. And wasn’t about to go back to bed anytime soon for fear of having another nightmare—painful reminders of the events that’d led to Loretta’s death. He knew he’d have to stay up until daylight. Suddenly, his thoughts drifted back to the girl he’d bumped into earlier in school—what’s her name again?

Oh, yes, he finally remembered, Natasha.

Something about her seemed to interest him. Kevin emptied the soda and threw the empty bottle into a waste bin across. Every thought about Natasha simply vanished from his mind after the last gulp. He looked into the mirror and saw his face brighten with a smile.

I was just thirsty after all, he snorted at his earlier thought. Nothing interesting about that girl.

“You stayed up all night drawing all this?” Landry looked over the pencil work Kevin drew.

“I kept seeing these four images in my dream last night, so I had to draw—that’s the only way I could get them out of my head.” Kevin answered, giving him another drawing.

“This is the first time this year I’ve dreamt of something different from the events that had played out on the night of Loretta’s murder. Does this mean I am finally moving on from what happened?”

“Or maybe you’ve entered a whole new level of depression.” Landry countered, looking over the drawings one after another. “Smoke rising from burning houses, birds on a tree, a note with a name on it, and a tortured man screaming. These visions seem so unrelated in many respect. It certainly means that whatever is going on with you, it’s gotten worse. Have you figured what any of these mean?”

“No, not yet, I stayed up all night trying to figure what they meant—but nothing.”

“Do you think these visions may be part of your PTSD problems?”

“I doubt it. The images I saw in those visions have absolutely nothing to do with what happened back then.” he took out another drawing and handed it to him. “Here, check this out!”

Landry took the drawing from him and stared with fixed eyes. He recoiled at the drawing of a man screaming in agonizing pain. His face contorted at the sight. “Who is this?”

“Not sure I’ve seen him before.”

Landry looked closely. “Maybe these visions are related to Loretta’s death. Take a closer look at this. The eerily similar torture of the man in this drawing is somewhat similar to the way Loretta was tortured.”

Kevin snorted at his response. “If you think he tortured Loretta that way, then you don’t know half of it.”

Landry fell silent. Kevin was right; he knew not how Loretta had been tortured, for he wasn’t present at the time she was murdered—only Kevin was. He had been positively horror-struck when he’d received the news of Kevin’s kidnap—that was barely twenty-four hours after Loretta had gone missing.

For two days the police had carried out a thorough investigation and went in search of them, but the search had yielded no positive result. It was on the third day Kevin was finally found in an abandoned warehouse, trapped with Loretta’s gruesome remains. T-Rex was gone by the time the police had arrived at the scene—far gone, almost seemed as though he disappeared off the face of the earth without any trace.

Landry picked up another drawing and scrutinized it closely, his eyes searching for clues. “Here, you drew an empty note.” he observed.

“I saw this same note in my dream, but it had a name on it. The problem is, I don’t remember what it was. And no matter how hard I try to remember, the memory keeps evading me.”

“Maybe that name which you don’t remember is the missing piece to solving this puzzle, all of it. See if you can remember what was written on this note, even if it’s just a letter. That could help us interpret your dream.”

Kevin pressed his fingers at the side of his temple and closed his eyes as if trying to remember. For several minutes they remained closed and Landry silently watched, waiting in anticipation.

When Kevin opened his eyes, he sighed heavily. “Nothing.”

It was 9:45 am. The sky was grey, not threatening rain or snow, and the air was dense. The sun was up already. Landry and Kevin sat in the park, under a towering oak, which shaded them from the scourging sun. The trees around beautified the park and made it comfortable to sit in.

Landry shut his eyes, taking in a deep breath as he took in the chilly breeze blowing in his direction. He looked around to observe his environment, taking his mind off their conversation for a while. “There are a lot of people in the park today.” he noticed.

“Of course there are. It’s a weekend—a day to let loose.”

“They sure look like they are having fun—all of them, except us.”

“For Pete’s sake, these are all kids you see around. Do you see any adult?” Kevin snickered.

“Well, there’s one,” he said, pointing to a man around the children’s swing.

“Jesus Christ!” he yelled. “That’s a dad helping his daughter with the swing.” he turned to stare at him wryly. “Please don’t let me stop you if you want to have fun with the kids. Go ahead!”

Suddenly, they noticed a little girl walking towards them. They became quiet until she got to where they sat.

“Kind sir, please help me.” the little girl called out to them in her innocent little voice. “My mom and I, we are hungry and have no food. Could you spare some change?” She was on the brink of tears.

Landry bent, bringing himself to her height. “Where is your mom, little one?” he asked in the tenderest voice.

She whirled and gestured towards a middle-age woman sitting on a wooden park bench far across. She looked pale and sad.

“That’s your mum?” he questioned, clearly not what he’d expected.

She nodded. “No one in the park will help us. Kind sir, please help me, or my mum and I will starve to death.” her tears were now visible. “I don’t want to die.”

Kevin, touched by her plea, leaned towards her. “What’s your name?”

The little girl diverted her attention to him. “It’s Mirabel, sir.”

“Mirabel…” he called out, “how old are you?”

“Thirteen, I’m thirteen, sir.”

Kevin slid his hands into his pocket, emptied his wallet, and handed it all to her. “Mirabel, this is the little I have on me right now, but I promise to bring something much better the next I visit this park.”

Her face glowed. “Thank you so much, kind sir. This is more than enough to take care of our meals for the rest of the day.” she left them in a hurry to meet her mum, who was waiting across.

“Their meal for the rest of the day? Unbelievable!” he marvelled, following her with his eyes. “I’d kept that money to buy snacks on my way home before finally having lunch.”

Landry scoffed. “I guess you have a lot to learn about managing your available resources.”

Mirabel got to where her mum sat and whispered something into her ear before handing the money to her. The lady waved at them in gratitude. A smile brightened her face as she took the bag. Kevin nodded with a smile. He was glad he didn’t buy that snack. Watching Mirabel and her mom smile that way gave him some kind of satisfaction.

As he watched Mirabel jubilate with her mother, something fleetingly caught the corners of his eyes. He turned and saw, sitting at a corner, both wearing a numb expression, Dreda and Madelia. They were incomplete, and he knew it. His wandering gaze searched the park.

Where is the arrogant one?