Page 40 of Burn for the Devil
I was tentatively excited. There was no way for me to guess what my psyche was trying to tell me through my dreams but if I could leave this cottage, then I wasn’t imprisoned again right now, I was free.
It was daytime in this place, which was another comfort. My wobbly brain had projected a muted version of Ramone, his usual implied violence on a back burner or hidden another way, and he’d transformed my tear into a glittering sapphire. It was a fascinating dream.
A pair of shoes sat on the floor near the base of the wall, and I slipped my feet into them. This would be a good experience for me, helping me to assert my independence as well as assuaging the intrusive memories of my previous capture. I would overwrite the bad with something good, bring peace to my soul. Rewrite my delusions until they were forgotten like the dark clouds after a storm.
Ramone’s hypnotic eyes tracked my every step as I moved from the wall and through the doorway. The main room of the cottage was dusty and the tones dingy, unlike what I’d remembered. Previously, the home had been cozy, with a warm fire lit in the hearth. Colorful quilts and blankets were still tossed over the couch and hanging off the back of the chair I’d existed in, the shades dim under a layer of disuse.
My feet brought me closer to the fireplace, and I glanced down at the pile of gray and black ash. The space hadn’t been used for a while. As I wandered, perusing the room, the man never strayed from my side, pacing me like a watchdog. It was easy to forget his image was the one who’d cruelly kidnapped me, the way he now seemed so eager to intervene if a curtain so much as fluttered in my direction.
Why had I conjuredhimto accompany me on my sleeping excursion? Common sense told me I was transmuting my fear into something manageable, attempting to rewrite history in a way I could live with. It may have been a lie to convince myself the events of the past were something other than what they were, but the human brain was nothing if not self-protective.
I was wildly attracted to Ramone. With every breath I took, here and at home when he was close, I was hyperaware of his nearness. While in his company, or while traversing the same location as him, my gaze was naturally drawn. It was all I could do to control my feet and my thoughts, both ached for disobedience against rational, acceptable behavior. My heart wanted him, and it wanted him badly, as nonsensical as that was.
He trapped you here. Wake up.
A breath hiccupped in my throat as my blood pressure skyrocketed. I wrapped my shaking arms around my waist, hugging myself while I shoved the intrusive thoughts down. Ramone pulled me back against his chest, and massaged my shoulders, trying to comfort me. “You’re safe, Samantha. No harm will come to you.”
I wanted to glance up at him but couldn’t, needing another moment to collect myself. “Am I?”
“If not, your next piece of jewelry will be fashioned from the bones of your enemies,” Ramone said, leaning down and brushing the side of my head with his cheek.
Gasping, I realized.The necklace.Immediately, I dismissed the thought. Now was not the time, and being the harsh taskmaster that it was, I was likely running out of it. I didn’t want to wake up before getting to see what was outside my old prison cell.
He slid an arm down and gripped me against his middle. “Did you not like my gift?” he asked.
“I did; it was beautiful,” I answered, playing along. I’d considered either Timothy or the man who was holding me so snugly against his chest as being the bearer of the jewelry. Secretly, I’d hoped it’d been Ramone. My dream was reflecting that wish.
Wiggling, I gave myself some space to turn and looked up at him. “Can we go now?”
He wet his lip with his tongue before speaking. “As you wish.”
The front door had been partially open, and Ramone gripped the edge, making room for us to pass through. Navigating the narrow stone steps, I followed him down and stopped to examine our surroundings. It appeared we were in a small village of some sort, indicated by dwellings of varying sizes and other small buildings. A dirt road divided the space between the clusters of homes bordered by low stone walls.
Everything was quiet and the area reminded me of a ghost town, the atmosphere seeming similar to that after a disaster where the inhabitants had gotten up and left quickly. A light breeze stirred the dusty roads and a layer of grime blanketed what must have once been a picturesque, fairytale style community.
Gardens were wilted and browning, lawns overgrown, and some sections of the stone walls had crumbled, resulting in short piles of tumbled rocks. A trio of crows cried out, cawing, beating their wings as they lifted from a tree in the near distance, disturbed by our intrusion. The trees appeared wilted as well,I noticed with interest, as if they’d been dehydrated under the radiation of an overactive sun. The more I skimmed the view in front of us, the more haunting it became.
It hadn’t been overlooked by Ramone either. I heard his short intake of breath and felt the tension radiating through his body, although he wasn’t touching me. He pulled a cellphone from his pocket, cursed, and then shoved it back. The gesture struck me as odd, until I remembered that I was supposed to just go along with whatever happened, let my psyche guide me. I couldn’t remember if I’d ever seen or used a cellphone in a dream before but him having one felt too much like waking life.
“This looks like it was once a lovely town,” I offered, hoping to divert my thoughts.
He held his hand out and I quickly accepted the clasp of his hand. “It was, once upon a time.”
“What is this place?”
“I have a couple homes here.”
He seemed distracted, his gaze constantly scanning the trees, peering at the homes. Something clearly wasn’t right, but I didn’t want to ask and instigate any trouble, I just wanted to look around. I’d wake up before any injury occurred, I was sure. “Where will we go?”
Ramone paused for several seconds. “Where do you want to go?” he replied.
We’d stopped walking and were almost outside of the town in a space between the tree line and some fields. It didn’t matter to me where we ended up, I just wanted to see what there was to see. “I don’t know. Show me something.”
Letting go of my hand, he stretched his fingers before running them through his hair. He turned in place, seemingly listening for something. There was no noise I could hear, other than the distant cawing of the crows. “I’ll take you to a castle; it's not far from here.”
Grasping my hand again, we continued walking and entered the woods, the branches of the trees above nearly blocking the sky in a thick, twisting arch. The ground was littered with decaying leaves, the scent pungent over the ripe fragrance of moist dirt. The air was crystal clear, and our surroundings etched in sharp relief, almost as if artificial intelligence had crafted an idealistic hiking scene with a layer of decomposition. Trees with festering rot and peeling bark were resting against partially fallen trunks that appeared to be hanging on with thoughts and prayers. Any lower plants’ leaves I saw were curled, shiny and wet with disintegration as if something had rubbed against them repeatedly, shredding them.
“What has happened here?” I asked, gesturing vaguely. “It looks like everything is dying.”