Chapter 6
Chapter Six
CALLUM/CASH
Then
Sleepless Veins & The Ghost of Someone Not Yet Gone
The line between dream and omen blurs…and I can’t tell if I’m waking up or already too late.
My pops pats me on the back. “Don’t let her go, son.”
I shoot up in a cold sweat. The nightmare I was having still runs on the screen of my mind. My blood races. That seemed too real.
I slide out of the bunkbed and guide myself down the dark aisle to the bathroom while trying to get my bearings. We’re finally on our way back to LA after playing our last show and we can’t get there fast enough.
My dream plays over in my head as I take a leak. My pops was pointing at Livianna from the stage. He was up there next to me, showing her to me as she was leaving the building.
It felt like she was never coming back. I shudder. Something about the scene scares the living shit out of me.
I can’t shake the feeling I’m supposed to pay attention to the meaning behind it. While I wash my hands, Livianna’s ghostly face stares at me as if she’s right in front of me.
My stomach churns and spits out bile. With a cold shiver creeping over me, I go out to the common area where my phone’s charging.
I slide into the seat and get my phone. There are a couple of messages from Livianna on my screen. With my hands nearly trembling for reasons I can’t explain, I open the texts and read them.
I have no idea what she’s talking about. What did she do and how did she hurt me?
She must have sent these within the last couple of hours because I was up, hoping she would FaceTime me once she got home. After getting tired of waiting, I went to bed.
I continue reading. The last sentence stops my heart. I’m sorry I lost him.
Fuck!
She’s spiraling in her head again. What if she’s cut her wrists and no one is there to make sure she’s okay?
Perspiration trickles down my back and my pulse accelerates. The same strange icy feeling I got when I found out my pops was dead spiders through my limbs.
I hit the call button, shaking. It rings, then goes to voicemail. I try again. The same thing happens. My stomach fills with concrete and acid crawls up my throat.
My dream… Was that my pops trying to tell me something?
That question only takes me down the worst possible scenario. I rush back to where Bren’s sleeping.
I rip back the curtain and jiggle him awake. “Guns, call Livianna.”
“What the fuck, bro?” He tries to roll over.
I grab his arm. “She’s in her fucking head. I have a bad feeling, Guns. Something’s not right.”
His eyes open and terror screeches through them. He jumps out of his bed. “What happened?”
“She left me a couple of messages. They don’t make sense, but I had a nightmare she was…leaving.” I hurry back to the common area. “You gotta try to reach her. She’s not answering my calls.”
He follows me. “Show me her texts.”
I open the thread and he takes my phone from me. As he scans over the screen, his face pales. He tosses my cell down and grabs his off the charger.
He hits a button and brings his phone to his ear. He stands frozen. A pained groan tears through his chest.
He tries calling her again. I pace the small space as he continues this a couple more times.
“Fuck it.” He does something on his cell and holds it out.
“Brendan, is everything okay?” His dad’s voice comes out groggy through the speaker.
“No. You gotta go check on Livianna.” Bren glances at me, rubbing his neck.
“Why?” Mr. Hemings comes in more alert.
“She sent some fucked-up messages to Cash. We’ve been trying to call her and she’s not answering.” Bren slides into the booth in the eating area.
His dad sighs. “She’s probably sleeping—”
“Please, Mr. Hemings.” I cut in to stress the importance of our request. “I have a bad feeling.”
“All right.” He pauses as if he’s doing something. “This is probably unnecessary. She was drunk when she got home and was likely just rambling.”
“Greg, what’s going on?” Mrs. Hemings’ voice streams through the line.
“The boys are worried about Livianna. I’m going in to check on her.”
“I’m coming with you.”
Their footsteps filter through as Bren and I stare at each other. From his hardened features, it’s clear he’s picking up on the same vibe I have.
We both know she was likely doing drugs along with drinking, so her messages are concerning as fuck. My muscles tighten over my ribs, making the pounding in my chest that much more pronounced. My heart’s about to beat out of my body.
“Livianna,” her mom says. There’s a split second of silence and then a piercing scream. “Greg! She’s not breathing. Oh my God, Livianna. No, no, no!”
“Lorna, her wrists…”
Something scrapes the speaker and then a crash occurs in the background. Blood swooshes through my ears. I go numb and try to figure out what’s going on.
“Call nine-one-one!” Her mom cries. “Oh, darling. No! Why, Livianna? Why?”
“Brendan, I’ll call you back.” His panicked dad hangs up and we’re left sitting in silence.
My vision distorts and my legs start to give out. I fall against the table with my worst fears coming alive. Livianna’s not with us anymore, and with that, I die right along with her.
It’s been one of the worst twenty-four hours of my life. We pulled into LA not knowing shit about Livianna except that she’s in the hospital after an overdose.
Nobody knows if it was intentional or not because she’s still in and out of consciousness.
I pull out a stool in Bren’s kitchen and sit. “When are your parents supposed to be back?”
He leans his butt against the counter, resting his palms on the edge. “I don’t know. I’d think soon since they’ve been there from the moment this happened.”
“There has to be something someone can tell us.”
“If they’d let us go down there, we could figure it out on our own.”
“Why won’t they let us see her?”
“She’s in the ICU and they’re trying to keep her stimulation to a minimum.”
I rub my face in my palms, then peer over at him. “I don’t know how much longer I can wait. It’s killing me not knowing what’s going on.”
“You and me both.” He pushes off the counter and peeks inside the fridge.
How the fuck is he thinking about food right now? I can’t imagine eating. The second I thought Livianna was gone for good, I threw up and haven’t been able to put anything but water in my stomach since.
He pulls out a soda and faces me. “Want one?”
“No, thanks. I’m good.”
“I haven’t thanked you for waking me up.” He snaps the tab of his can, opening it. “If you hadn’t, I’m not sure she’d be with us today.”
“Don’t say that.” A wave of nausea rolls through me.
“How did you know?”
“I had a dream. It freaked me out. I got up to use the bathroom, thinking it would fade away. Instead, this overwhelming fear took hold. It was like I could see…”
“What?”
I glance away. “You’ll think I’m full of shit if I tell you.”
“I already know you are, so go on and say what you were going to say.”
I toss him a fuck off kind of glare but continue. “She was staring at me. Like… I could see her in front of me as I was washing my hands. It wasn’t really her, but it was. She looked smoky, almost transparent.”
“So you’re saying you saw Livianna’s ghost?”
I study him to see if he’s mocking me or taking me seriously. He doesn’t move and isn’t giving off any judgmental vibes, so I nod.
“In my dream, my pops told me not to let her go.” I shake my head to erase the image. “It was a nightmare. I knew something was wrong the second I woke up, but I tried to ignore it. When I saw her, I had the same feeling I had when my pops died.”
Bren keeps his gaze on me as he takes a drink of his soda. I can only imagine what he’s thinking.
He places the can down on the island. “Your dad was watching out for her. That’s pretty fucking comforting if you ask me.”
“You think, or is that just something you’re telling me to make me feel better?”
“I really believe it, Cash. Stranger things have been known to happen.” Bren reaches over and taps me on the temple. “Your dream saved her life.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because I’ve slept in the same room as you quite a bit and you sleep like a rock. Nothing wakes you up. And I’ve never known you to have a nightmare. At least not one that scared you so much you got out of bed. That tells me something intervened.”
“Maybe. I’m just glad they got to her in time.”
The door to the garage opens. Mr. and Mrs. Hemings walk through the mudroom and into the kitchen.
Mrs. Hemings has splotchy red marks all over her face and Mr. Hemings has dark circles around his eyes. I don’t think they’ve slept for even an hour. She ambles over and gives us both hugs, welcoming us home.
“I’ll let Greg fill you boys in. I’m exhausted and need to rest.” Mrs. Hemings places her purse down on a built-in desk on the other side of the kitchen. She faces me and shows me a sad smile. “Thanks for making us check on her, Cash. She wouldn’t…”
Mrs. Hemings sucks in a cry. Mr. Hemings strides over to her and hugs her. He whispers something in her ear. She nods and retreats up the back staircase. He peers her way for a moment, then turns to us.
“It’s nice to have you guys home. I’m sorry this is what you had to come back to.” He gestures to the table. “Join me over there. I have some questions we need answered.”
“How’s Lily?” My nerves can’t stand it any longer. I want the details.
“She’s getting the necessary help.” He shuffles to the table. “We’ll know more once she’s able to speak.”
Bren releases a heavy gust of air. “Why can’t she talk?”
“She can. She’s just not making any sense.” Mr. Hemings sits and stares at us. “I need to know what happened.”
“That’s what we wanna know.” I find a seat next to him.
He runs his hand over his mouth. “How long have you boys known she’s been using?”
Bren sinks into the chair across from me and paints a look of innocence on his face. “Dad, we weren’t even in town. How were we supposed to know what she was doing?”