The Falcon Ridge Series Book 4: Art of a Girl

(Chapter song ‘The Secret History’ by Andrew Skeet)

SAMMY

“No…”

“…leave me…”

“NOO!!”

I shoot up in bed, panting, shaking, and dripping in sweat. My heart is pounding as I pull up my knees and prop my elbows on them. I hold my head and scrub my dampened hair as I catch my breath. I side eye the window and it’s a dark, clear night out.

I rub my face and grab my phone. It lights up the dark as I check the time.

“Damn it!” I grit as I slam it back down on my night stand.

3 am. Like clockwork.

I thought being in the mansion was supposed to cure me from exhaustion, but since being here, I’ve become a damn insomniac. It takes me forever to fall asleep because of Bastian and then I only sleep for a few hours because of something even more horrible.

My trembling hand pulls the blankets back and I flick on the lights. I pad to the bathroom, get a drink of water to calm my nerves and walk back out. I hold my waist as I look eerily to the bed.

I can’t do it. I need to get this out.

I walk to my dresser, take off my nightshirt, pull out a t-shirt and my coveralls. I get dressed, put my hair up in a bun and walk to my art room.

I throw open the doors and stare at the easel that has a sheet covered canvas on it. My lip threatens to curl as I take big steps to it, grab the sheet and rip it off.

His eyes hit me like he did in my dream. With determination to rid my mind of him, I pull out my brushes, pour paint onto my pallet and mix the colors I need.

I put the hairs of the brush to the painting and watch the glob of paint as it’s pushed around by my brush. The edge of the brush glides around the neck and ear. I switch to the feather brush and shadow in the darkness under the eyes. I work fast and with a passion I’ve never felt before.

My creativity pours out in hatred and I feel sick because of it. I change to a small tip and paint in the hairline that makes me cringe.

I add detail to the eyes that have no business looking at me. I outline the lips that shouldn’t have a voice to talk to me.

As my fear and anger builds, I form his ear. I make his fingers become real as he holds his hair back. I define the muscles in the hand and forearm above his head.

He's frozen in time. I wish he was frozen somewhere else, but no. He’s alive and I can’t stop him.

His stone face rises out of the black and meets mine like he’s done so many times before. I aggressively apply stroke after stroke, not really caring about the neatness of it.

I squeeze out more paint and switch back and forth between my brushes. He becomes three dimensional as my disdain pours into him.

I hate being forced to paint like this, but he gives me no choice. This has to stop.

As I put the finishing touches on his bare shoulder and partial chest, someone clears their throat behind me.

I glance over my shoulder then turn back to the painting I’ve been forced to work on for a week now.

“Sammy? What’s wrong? You look horrible.”

I change colors and lean in to define shading on his collar bone. “I don’t know, Dylan. I just…”

I feel his hand hit my shoulder and I stand straight. I hang my head and push paint around my pallet.

“Tell me.” He whispers.

“I can’t. I don’t even understand it myself.” I glance at him. “Why are you up?”

“I needed to got to the bathroom and saw your lights on. I thought I should check in. I knocked, but when you didn’t answer…”

“Sorry. I guess I tuned out.” I mumble.

He turns to the painting. “He’s not creepy looking at all.”

I drop my brush in the linseed oil jar and grab a rag. “That’s the understatement of the century.” I grumble as I wipe my hands of paint like I’m wiping off blood.

He stands between me and the painting as he analyzes it. “I don’t recognize him. Who is he?”

I shake my head. “That what I want to know.” I point to the man in my painting and lock with Dylan’s eyes. “For the past five nights, that guy has been everywhere in my head.” I grind.

“No matter what I dream…no matter how I dream it, he always shows up. He’s completely out of context to what’s going on around me. It’s like he’s just inserting himself into my mind.”

I fight the fear and uncomfortableness of this man’s intrusions. I hold myself a little tighter this time. “He starts telling me I’m his or something. Like what I’m doing is wrong and will always be wrong until I’m with him. Dylan…I think I’m cracking up.”

He stands in front of me and lowers himself to see my eyes. “Call Dr. Rennet. Maybe he can help explain it. This maybe that thing trying to mess with you again like the red eyes.”

“I already did.” I hitch. “He’s coming tomorrow morning. He wants to see what my environment is like. He thinks there might be a trigger here.”

“He may be on to something. The Alpha is a pretty big trigger for you.” He suggests.

I grab the sheet off the floor and cover the painting. I walk into my room and sink into one of the arm chairs. “No. It’s not Bastian. This feels like something else entirely. Something’s changing Dylan.” I lean on my knees and hang my head. “I’m terrified.”

He drops down in front of me. “Sammy, don’t be. Remember what I said? You’re stronger. You always will be. If you weren’t, that thing would have taken you long ago.”

I sniff and wipe my nose with the back of my hand. “Yeah…I know.” I whisper.

I can be stronger, but the more fear I feel, the weaker I become. Whatever it’s doing inside me is clearly winning. Attacking my mental state is a new level of sick. It’s keeping me exhausted so I won’t have the energy to fight back.

I need to tell Dr. Rennet that he needs to put up stronger blocks. It’s pushing through them like it got stronger somehow. It’s almost as if something is feeding it. Fueling it with more than what I have inside. The raging waters are pushing on the entire dam and all I’m doing is plugging up holes. I need a stronger wall.

****

‘Samantha…I’m pulling you out…follow my voice…’

The moon hangs in the sky as the wind blows the black satin nightgown I’m wearing around my legs. My bare feet step lightly through the long grass of the clearing as Dr. Rennet’s voice echoes among the stars.

I look behind me as I walk. I move the hair that the wind blows out of my face as he stands on the other side of the clearing.

‘Hear my voice…feel the sense of calm…I’m counting backwards…follow me…’

My eyes lock with his dark ones and I reach out to him as my feet carry me away.

He crosses his arms and arches a brow.

‘Follow me, Samantha…Come to me…5…’

Ravens caw in a large flock and fly out of the trees.

‘4…’

They swoop down into the clearing in a whirlwind of feathers and claws.

‘3…’

They fly all around my body as I step away from the man in black. He eyes me as the birds circle around him and rise into the air.

‘2…’

I pull against the voice as the man in black takes a step.

‘Follow me…Only me…’

‘1…’

As the last number is uttered the clearing fills with shrill caws. The birds gather like a dense cloud and target him like a rocket.

They swarm by me and I watch as he outstretches his arms. He rolls his head back and my mouth falls open. The birds hit his chest and explode like a missile impact. Their black bodies scatter into the night and the man in black is no more.

All I can do is fade back to reality.

****

I flutter my eyes open and look around my office. I had couches added to it, but I didn’t think I would need them for this.

I turn my head to see Dr. Rennet smiling as he sits in one of my chairs at my head.

“Welcome back.” He says quietly.

I take a deep breath and sit up as I try to remember what went on. “Is it done?” I feel like I just slept for 12 hours straight. I feel pretty good actually.

“As requested, I strengthened the block. I’m suspecting the stress of what’s going on here might have something to do with your mysterious man. You've turned your stress into an imaginary being and he’s now invading your space.” He diagnoses.

I straighten myself up. “How can I fix that?”

“Keep your stress levels to a minimum. Relax. Do something fun or try something new. Separate yourself from the job and your personal life. Try to leave the work at work. I understand it’s hard in this situation, but there’s always coping mechanisms you can try. I can give you some referrals.” He smiles.

“Thank you, Dr. Rennet.” I say gratefully.

“You’re welcome. If anything else happens don’t hesitate to call.” He fixes his glasses as he stands and I rise with him.

“Our appointment is still booked for next week. This appointment will be on the house.” He grins as I walk him out of my office.

“Thank you. I’ll be there.” I smile back.

“Ok. Have a good day.” He gives my hand a squeeze, then looks behind me. He pauses for a moment and I glance over my shoulder.

“Bye.” He waves at me.

“Bye.” I wave back and he leaves down the hall.

“What the hell is he doing here?”

I prepare myself and turn around. “He’s a friend.” I look to Bastian who’s looking back at me with concern.

His brows come together. “I know who he is, Sam. He works at my prison. What is he doing here with you?”

“That’s none of your business.” I turn and walk into my office with him on my back.

“He’s in my house and around you. I have a right to know why.” I sit in my office chair as he leans on my desk.

Try to keep the stress away, Sam.

“He's my therapist, Bastian. This has nothing to do with you. Now, if you don’t mind.” I motion to the door.

“What’s wrong, Sammy?” He crosses his arms. “Why do you need Rennet?”

I narrow my eyes slightly. “That’s none of your business. Please leave.”

He leans on my desk again. “I know that guy, ok. I don’t trust him as far as I can throw him and neither should you.” He growls low.

“Bastian, you’re the last person I trust right now. Quit snooping around my life and leave!” I scowl.

He gives me a once over and half turns. “I won’t pry, but I won’t be taking my eyes off him. He’s doing something, Sammy. I don’t know what, but it doesn’t feel good.”

“Do what you want, Bastian. I really don’t care unless you stick your nose where it doesn’t belong again.” I talk sternly as I fill out paperwork.

I don’t look up until I hear my office door close. I lean my elbows on my desk and play with my pen as I stare out into my empty office.

Bastian has a lot of gall to complain about not trusting the doctor. After what he pulled to get me here, he shouldn’t be uttering the word trust.