Witness (26 page)

“Fine,” I mumbled. The sound of his guitar erupted again, but not in a mean way; more like in a proud way.

I hadn’t been to my mom’s office in months, and quite frankly I was terrified of trying to move through memories without Draven there to guide me. I reached for my wrist and turned my bracelet to where I could see the pick that belonged to him, then closed my eyes and remembered her office. The smell of it, the wall of windows behind her large oak desk, the massive book shelves full of photos of me growing up, and the trinkets she’d collected from all her business trips. I held tightly to the memory of that room as I felt a rush of energy move through me. I then slowly opened my eyes and found myself standing in front of her desk.

She was there. Her blond hair was pulled back into a French twist, and she was wearing one of her powerhouse suits, though her jacket was draped across her large leather business chair. She was scrolling through her iPad - but the instant I appeared, the power to it faded, along with all of the lights, dimming the room. She slowly raised her eyes to meet mine, then she reached to pull her reading glasses off as she leaned back and glanced to my side.

My eyes followed her stare to see my father standing next to me. He was dressed in all black. A black leather cord was around his neck with a simple guitar pick hanging there. I unconsciously reached for my bracelet and fumbled with Draven’s pick. As I stared into the haunting image of my father’s dark eyes, I was reminded not only of how much I loved him, but how much I loved Draven. I never realized how redundantly they reminded me of each other.

My eyes moved back to my mother to see her calmly looking over me.

“Looks like you called a family meeting,” I mumbled.

She nodded slowly as her chair rocked with her.

The speech that I had, the words I wanted to say, they all vanished from my thoughts. They were both in one room. I’d only seen this happen once before - the night of my accident - but almost everything about that night was a blur…and that moment wasn’t nearly as private as this one. I felt anxiety rush through my soul.

“Do you have something you want to ask me – us?” my mother finally said.

“Why?” I mumbled.

“Why what, Charlie?” she said in her familiar, unapproachable tone.

“Just forget it,” I said as I stepped back, prepared to end this. I wanted to go back to my room and fight my own battles.

As I stepped back, my father reached his hand for my arm, and I felt a warm calm feeling stop me in my tracks. My mother stood slowly and walked around her desk.

“Charlie,” she said as she leaned on her desk just before me. “Most mothers read fairy tale stories to their children - not nightmares.”

“What are you saying? That the two of you are a nightmare?!” I said, louder than I intended. My father let his hand fall from my arm and moved to my mother’s side. Once his arm was around her, I watched the wall she’d placed between us slowly fall.

Seeing them in each other’s arms nearly took my breath away. I’m sure most kids take seeing their parents in the same room or showing signs of simple affection for granted, but it was the one thing I wanted more than anything growing up: to have a happy, normal family.

“We are not a nightmare, but we had to fight one to be together – just like the one you’re about to fight,” she answered.

“It would have been so much easier if you’d told me, if I knew all along that this was coming. I would have figured out how to fight it by now.”

My mother’s blue eyes seemed to flood with wisdom. “Charlie, why would you have wanted to spend your life preparing for a moment that your heart will lead you through?”

“My heart? Are you serious? My heart isn’t the problem; understanding what I am what Draven is, this realm or dream world - that’s the problem. And then there’s Silas.”

As soon as I said Silas’s name, the expression on my father’s face grew angry, almost as if he were hurt.

“What?” I asked, looking at him. “Is he bad? How can he be bad when he carries so much calm and peace with him? Tell me what you know.”

My mother reached her arm around my father, and whatever anger he had faded with her attention. Then she looked at me and said, “He’s not bad, baby; he’s a warrior for our kind.”

“’Ours’ as in yours and mine – or ‘ours’ as in all of us?”

My mother looked up at my father, then to me. “As in the damned souls.”

“So he is bad,” I said as a breath of guilt escaped my soul.

Concern came over her beautiful face. “No, he’s doing what’s natural to him: defending the lost souls. And Draven and your dad are doing what’s natural to them.”

“Feeding on them,” I said before I was wise enough to choose safer words.

“Harsh words,” my mother said. “But true. It’s not their fault the darkness is pulled to them...they take what’s given to them....just like you take in air.”

“And what do we do, mom – you and me? How can we be both?”

“We balance…we see that the men we love aren’t evil or dark; they’re simply playing the role given to them.”

“According to Silas, this is my fault; he said I crossed a line – tried to save Britain, then Draven. That because of what I did, I’ll eventually end them, that all I did was make this worse.”

My mother reached for my hand. “Is it easy for you to conceive the idea of another life – this other realm? Seeing, moving your soul from one place to another with a simple thought?”

“I’m standing here, aren’t I?” I said with more sarcasm than was needed.

She smiled slightly as she let out a breath. “Then I did not hinder you by keeping you in the dark; I let you find a way to understand the unbelievable on your own.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you could see before? That dad was dark? Why didn’t you tell me so I’d know that I’d have to fight to keep Draven? Tell me how to save him...is...is...is his fate what dad’s was?” I asked as grief came over every part of me.

Both of them stood quickly and pulled me to them. “No, no,” my mother said over and over as she squeezed me tighter. I pushed away; I couldn’t look at either of them, especially my father.

“Listen to me, Charlie,” my mother said. “What happened to your father was nothing more than an accident. He was at the wrong place at the wrong time. If that bus was parked, it wouldn’t have mattered if he’d thrown that chair; he’d already made a choice to rise from the depths before he met me. When he did find me, that choice was amplified. He knew that fighting his demons – the pain – was worth it, even if it meant he would stay in this world. You don’t have to stay here.”

“I don’t understand. Why is living here bad? I want him to live here.”

My father reached his arms around me and rocked me back and forth as the gentle sound of a guitar came to life.

“This world is a prison for those like your dad, for those like us, only because it traps us here – because it forces us to live in a materialistic reality....we are blinded from the energy, the beauty all around us....life is not meant to be defined in reality....it’s meant to be felt, absorbed with every action.”

“What are you saying – that Draven wants to live in that realm?” I asked, slightly pulling away from my dad.

“I’m saying that that realm is addicting; it can be whatever you want, at any moment. All you need is energy, and the dammed souls freely give up their energy to create it. Your dad had turned away from that power. He had to commit to living this life, this reality, and to fight the nightmares - just to be with me. He wanted to set free the power that was flowing into him....he wanted to see and feel the energy in this reality....to show others how to see....how to break free from the restrains of the world. His music allowed his fans to feel emotions that were to dark to face, when they felt them they realized they were not alone, and they were able to move forward with life - even see it differently.”

“You mean redeem the shadows....the ones that we will become if we do not find the peace that is inside of us. That’s what dad did with his music...” I mumbled seeing how I’d already chosen his path without even knowing it, that Draven had....my only fear now was, if we had reached the point my father had in his life...what was next....what war would we fight?

My mother nodded. “He had already made that commitment long before I met him. He made that promise the first time he began to play, when he began to force the energy out of him and into a different source.”

I felt my father’s stare and locked eyes with him. In his silence, I heard a thousand words....he was telling me it could be done - that Draven could fight this.

“So there is hope for Draven. He’s not only helped lost souls before, but he plays. This world isn’t a prison to him; it’s all he knows,” I said, almost to myself.

“Not anymore,” my mother said quietly. “That realm is calling him, and his battle is going to be fierce. Your past is calling you…it’s time for you to bring balance to this world.”

“You really believe I lived before? That I made some choice that forced both me and Draven into this world? Into yours and Evan’s life?”

“It doesn’t matter what I believe; all that matters is what you believe,” she answered.

“Tell me how you helped dad, how I can help Draven in that realm. How can I help Britain and keep Silas at bay?”

Sadness filled her expression. “I don’t know.”

“Don’t hide anything from me,” I said coldly.

“I’m not, Charlie. I’ve never been there – I was too afraid. I still am. Your father and I were willing to remain here, to live a normal life - but you don’t have that choice.”

“Why not? You avoided it - why can’t I?”

“Your soul is much older and much stronger than mine or dads; you were born for the fate that’s chasing you.”

“You can’t help me?” I said as I looked between them. “Neither of you have any insight into what I can do to help them?”

Mom looked at dad, then to me. “The answers are all around you. You just have to ask. I do…I do have some advice.”

She looked down and leaned against her desk as she searched for words. My father moved to her side again and took her hand. I watched her smile slightly as her arm gently braced her stomach. “Before I even knew I was pregnant with you, I had dreams, very vivid dreams…I saw a dark prince - at least that’s what I called him because his flawless image was breathtaking and seethed with a raw power. I saw a beautiful girl….dark eyes, long dark hair…she was so bright, so mesmerizing that she stopped this dark prince in his tracks. As they gazed at each other, I felt indescribable love, an instant commitment to find balance – to find a way to bring their opposing worlds to peace…the dream was so beautiful that I would wake crying.”

My mother let go of my father’s hand and walked to the bookshelf that held countless photos of me growing up. She reached for a frame and stared at it for a few seconds before she turned it for me to see. It was a photo taken of me and Draven on the beach last summer. It was just as the sun was setting. In the frame, you could see the orange glow of the setting sun behind me and the rising full moon behind Draven. Our images were shadowed by the conflicting light of the day, but you could see his forehead against mine and his hand gently cradling my face. The photo, that innocent moment in forgotten memory, took my breath away.

“When I took this photo…when I saw this image…my dreams came flooding back to me,” my mother said as she choked back tears.

“I don’t understand,” I whispered.

Her eyes met mine. “Your entire life, you’ve made it an art to call the dammed back to a moment where they felt love – to a moment when they believed anything was possible…now you’re going to have to call yourself back to a moment when you felt the same.”

My eyes fell to the photo again as that day, that moment, played out in my memory. It was a beautiful day, but if I remembered clearly it was one of the countless stolen moments we had growing up. I didn’t feel anymore at peace by remembering it.

“Not this moment,” my mother said quietly. “You have to remember a forgotten  moment, the moment he fell for you, the moment he fought his desire to end your light…the perfect balance the two of you found then…a perfect circle of both light and darkness – so balanced that he couldn’t pull you down. When that moment comes again, you must protect him from what he’s becoming once again. Find that peaceful, forgotten memory. Don’t think about what you left behind then or now; focus on that moment, and if you manage to feel half of what I felt by witnessing that unyielding love and commitment in that dream - then nothing will harm either of you.”

I nodded as I gazed at that photo and let my mother’s dream play out in my mind. The story behind her words was so numbing, it took my breath away. Part of me thought that her love for my dad and me had caused her to see that dream through a diluted perspective; that according to both Britain and Silas, Draven was my second attempt at finding a balance between what they were and the light that I was. Then there was another part of me, the part of me that craved the presence of Draven, that remembered how calming and addictive Silas was to me. That part of me told me it had to be love that pulled me away from the life I had then – from the love Silas had undeniably given me at one time. That part of me was the one I chose to listen to. I chose to listen to that part of me because I knew right now - without a doubt - that I’d make the same choice. I loved Draven…I loved his soul.