Chapter sixty-two: Dreams that Burn
Chapter sixty-two: Dreams that Burn
Chapter 62 – Dreams That Burn
Levi woke with his heart racing, a thunderous sound echoing in the silence of his room. Sweat clung to his skin, the sheets twisted around him like restraints, and he felt trapped in his own bed. The dream had been too vivid—Lucien’s voice threading through the dark, Lucien’s hands closing around his wrists, not in violence but in possession. There was a terrifying intimacy in that grasp, an assertion of authority that sent chills racing down his spine.He sat upright, dragging air into his lungs.
The room was quiet, the early morning light seeping through the window, but the crack in the mirror gleamed in the dim light, catching his eye like an accusation. He hated that mirror; it reflected his fear, his confusion, and the way Lucien lingered far too close in his mind.“Get it together,” he muttered to himself, shoving the blankets aside and pacing the small confines of the room. His body still hummed with the remnants of the dream, betraying him with heat where there had been no touch, only fleeting memory.
Or was it craving? He felt as though he could never escape the magnetic pull Lucien had on him.“He’s not in my head,” he gritted out, defiantly shaking off the feelings creeping up his spine. Determination tried to drown out the echo of Lucien’s whisper, but it was a feeble fight against the memories they shared. Then, the camera light blinked once from the corner of the room. A reminder. A denial.
A promise of being watched, always watched.With a deep breath, Levi closed his eyes and pressed his palms against them, a feeble attempt to block out unwanted thoughts. Yet, Lucien’s voice resonated within him. “You already gave them,” it repeated, haunting him.Sleep was impossible now. Resolved to unburden himself in some way, he padded over to the desk, dragging out a scrap of paper that the guards had overlooked. Writing was the only way to bleed out the fire that burned inside him, the only semblance of control he had left. He picked up a pen and let the ink flow, ushering forth the chaos within.
The words spilled sharp and jagged, desperate to escape him: You haunt me. Even when you’re not here. Even in my sleep. I hate it. I hate you. I hate…His pen froze mid-sentence, the last word refusing to emerge from the dark depths of his anguish. It was as though the ink turned to lead in his hand, heavy and suffocating. He crumpled the page, frustration boiling over, and hurled it toward the cracked mirror. It hit the glass and slid to the floor, powerless against the weight of his emotions.
Levi pressed both hands to the desk, head bowed. The silence in the room pressed tighter around him, heavier than any chains could. What was he fighting for? He stared at the mess in front of him—the discarded words and the blank paper still waiting for release. The frustration threatened to suffocate him.And somewhere in the house, he knew, Lucien was watching. The thought wrapped around him like a vice, constricting further. The very reality of that knowledge was maddening; it stoked the embers of rage inside him while igniting a flicker of something else—something darker.
It infuriated him that even in his solitude, he felt his thoughts being monitored, his feelings manipulated.Levi pushed away from the desk and planted himself in front of the mirror, his reflection staring back at him with hollowed-out eyes. Who was he in this nightmare? He barely recognized the frazzled youth with dark rings beneath his eyes. Before Lucien, he had been someone resolute and strong, but now he felt like nothing more than a pawn in a game he did not wish to play.With a shaking hand, he reached up, fingers ghosting over the crack in the mirror. It was a marred surface, a fault line that mirrored the fractures in his mind.
He thought of Lucien, of those moments they had shared that twisted his insides into knots. How had it come to this?The words he wanted to write flitted just out of reach, taunting him like shadows that danced away in the corner of his eyes. He felt the heat of tears threatening to spill over; he blinked them back fiercely. He wouldn’t give Lucien the satisfaction of seeing him break again. Not now. Not ever.“Why can’t I just forget?” he muttered to his reflection, the echo of his voice sounding foreign in the stillness.
But forgetting felt like betrayal. Betrayal was an unforgivable sin in a world where trust was already a fragile illusion.Taking a step back, Levi crossed the room and leaned against the wall, needing to ground himself. “You’re stronger than this,” he reminded himself. “You won’t let him win.”But the thought was a flimsy armor against the onslaught of emotions that churned in his gut. What was winning, anyway? In a place like this, victory seemed elusive, defined by invisible chains held by invisible hands.
He turned back to the discarded paper on the floor, the crumpled rejection of his thoughts. In a sudden burst of will, he picked it up. “No more.” He tore it in half, then half again, letting the pieces flutter to the floor like fallen leaves. “I won’t let you control me!”Yet even as he declared that, the doubts crept back in. Would he be able to resist? Could he truly confront Lucien when the moment came? The dread coiled tightly in him, a snake ready to strike.
Levi closed the distance to the mirror, staring into it with fierce determination. The boy staring back didn’t need to feel lost or helpless. He commanded that sense of power, even here in this prison. “I will fight back,” he said softly, but each word rang with the weight of resolve.And just like that, the battle lines were drawn. He felt the stirrings of a rebellion long overdue, a fire igniting within him to send Lucien packing.
Perhaps he would be no longer the hunted, but the hunter. Perhaps it was time Levi took the fight to him.And somewhere in that dark house, he was certain Lucien would feel that change ripple through the still air.