Read on Inkitt.

This time, when I awoke I didn’t immediately know where I was. Well, not entirely. My surroundings felt familiar but I couldn’t pick out one particular element that I specifically recognized.

The faux wood ceiling fan in my living room had been replaced by an overcast, white sky. Drab beige walls of the apartment were nowhere in sight. Instead I was surrounded by trees. Not the lush trees of a humid, dense forest. Evergreens stood majestically everywhere. Their browned needles littered the dry, dusty ground dotted with pine cones.

The only other elements present were a triangle of concrete with a heavy steel door that looked like it led to an underground bunker and a cyclone fence enclosing a series of generators to one side of that door.

But all was quite. Even my fear.

My bare feet crunched over dry dirt, bits of evergreen bark, and sharp pine needles. I was in the shirt and shorts pajama set I wore to bed but wasn’t cold. The atmosphere wasn’t warm either, just pleasant.

“Do you remember this place?”

Spinning around with a helpless yelp, I watched as Alijah came walking from behind the concrete structure. He looked happy to be there. No, not happy, relieved. Wearing the same clothes as when we met for lunch, jeans and a faded band t-shirt. It didn’t strike me as odd then as it did now. At lunch, I assumed he waited too long to do laundry and found those clothes at the bottom of his closet. It wouldn’t have been the first time.

I hadn’t had an Alijah dream in quite some time. Every so often throughout my life, Alijah would appear in my dreams. As casually and realistic as if he had actually walked into my bedroom. I asked him about it once. He hugged me and said he hadn’t realized I thought he was the best big brother ever to have lived. I never brought it up to him again. His ego did not need to be placated.

But that didn’t stop him from guest starring at times. It usually happened when he was gone for longer periods of time for work or when I retreated into my head. Fortunately, the latter hadn’t happened in quite some time.

Until now. There had to be something wrong with my head.

Seeing him walk toward me in this particular dream, his appearance was somewhat out of place. As if those clothes weren’t his. They fit well enough, but not to Alijah’s specific preferences. The jeans sat a bit too low on his hips. The shirt was too tight across his shoulders. Despite the fact vintage band shirts were not usually to his liking. But we all had a piece of clothing or two that wasn’t congruent to our current phase in life stashed somewhere deep in our closets next to the skeletons. Those random pieces we could never seem to let go.

I took a look around again. Had I dreamed of this place before? Our parents could have taken us here when I was younger. During those years that were a blur in my memory.

“It’s familiar but I don’t actually recognize any of it,” I admitted wanting to run to him, throw my arms around his neck and ask a million questions. Since this was clearly a dream I would only get the answers I already knew.

That was how the subconscious worked, right? My first question would be a demand as to why he wasn’t answering his phone. Since I wouldn’t get some insightful, reassuring answer, I let it drop.

“What is this place?” I asked hoping the answer was rooted somewhere deep inside my befuddled brain.

“It is a place you will remember when you’re ready.”

Damn my brain. I sighed. Maybe I was asking the wrong thing. In movies that was always the key, asking the right questions to pop open that metaphorical lock.

Taking a step toward me, I noticed Alijah wasn’t wearing any shoes either. There was dried mud splattered across the tops of his bare feet. Taking a closer look at him, I saw a long scratch across his left cheek I hadn’t initially noticed.

“What happened to your face?”

Running his fingers over his cheek he looked surprised to find the mark there.

“Pissed off the wrong girl,” he said cryptically with a bitter smile.

Alijah never really shared the details of his private life with me, not that I really wanted them. But I never pegged my brother as someone to mistreat the fairer sex. I’ve never even heard him refer to a woman as anything derogatory or negative. Even if they deserved it.

I wanted to know what he did to deserve being scarred like that or what she did to provoke confrontation. I don’t ever remember seeing him injured by anything. It was weird that this was how my mind chose to conjure him. A time my mind was twisted in anxious knots.

Dropping his hand away from his face, he looked up at the sky. Breathing in the fresh mountain air. The crisp scent of pine and bark subtly lingered. We had both always appreciated nature. Reveled in it actually. Yet, he always insisted we stay in the city. Insisting it held the best opportunities for us.

“Are you okay, Half Pint?” he asked eyes searching my face.

“Rough night,” was all I could say. Why rehash a story I already knew and retold half a dozen times.

He nodded like he knew. Because he did. He was me.

“You asked me about our parents,” he began slowly. “How much do you remember?”

“Still nothing before I was ten, really,” I admitted scanning what memories I did have. Hoping that being in this dream state would thin the veil and reveal some repressed something or other.

“They weren’t there much before they left. I don’t remember them ever being nasty or harmful to us. It just seemed they didn’t care if we were there or not. I guess they decided if we were there they didn’t want to be,” I said with a shrug.

Even though I had two years of actual memories of them before they left for good, by that time they had mostly been away. My only real memories of them were the days they would return for a rushed moment to grab something or make sure we hadn’t burned the house down.

“No, they were never truly bad people,” admitted Alijah. “Sadly, they were never meant to have kids.”

“Then why have two?”

“Extenuating circumstances. Anyway, I never thought they would leave the way they did.”

“Thank God I had you,” I said. Something I wish I had told the real Alijah more often.

Once our parents left he was all I had. He made sure neither of us ended up in the system. He would have aged out of foster care in two years by the time they disappeared from our lives. I would have been left behind to fend for myself. Even so, we were both too old to hope for adoption. Chances were we would have been split up anyway.

He worked tireless with me to make sure I graduated high school and got into a good college. I finished high school at seventeen and went to a state college on a full-ride thanks to him.

“I’m sorry I didn’t do more for you when we were younger.” His voice so quiet I wasn’t sure I had heard him correctly. “I spent too much time being selfish. I was young. Not that that’s an excuse. Just regret I suppose. Hindsight is one evil bastard. Never question yourself, Noa,” he babbled.

“What are you talking about?” According to my recollection he had done more than I could have ever asked. Because of Alijah I was able to stay out of foster care, finish high school, go to college, and basically make a life for myself. There was always food on the table, a roof over our heads, clean clothes on our backs. Despite our situation, I had as normal an experience growing up as anyone. Most importantly, I had him, my brother, my family. And I told him so.

“I’m sorry I didn’t get to you sooner. With Baylor.” The animalistic way he growled out his name sent chills down my spine and the hairs on my arm to stand on end. We rarely, if ever, talked about him, not since Alijah took me to get help after rescuing me. “Even more sorry I wasn’t around much after.”

Again, according to my memory, it was Alijah that came to my rescue. As for after, he was there as much as I needed. I couldn’t expect anyone to put their life on hold to help mend the consequences of my life choices. He gave me what he could to heal. When he couldn’t give me enough, he helped me find someone who could.

“There’s nothing to apologize for, Ali. You have always been my saving grace. Always,” I said trying to reassure him.

The smile barely made it past his lips. His face dripping with emotion.

Over the years I have tried to erase his guilt concerning Baylor. Alijah wasn’t the one that chose him. Alijah was the one that saved me from him. Baylor would have most likely killed me that night if Alijah hadn’t been there for me when I needed him the most. Still, he felt guilt.

“There is something that you need to know, Noa.” Taking a few steps forward, Alijah looked down into my eyes. “I need you to know how strong you are. How important you are.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. Especially since I felt the complete opposite, like, all of the time. What a weird time for my subconscious to give me a pep talk.

“You were meant for more than the life I was able to give you,” he continued. “Fuck, I wish I could tell you everything.”

“Everything? Alijah, what’s going on?” I reached for his hand. It felt so real in mine.

Looking over his shoulder as if he heard something. The world seemed to pause with him.

Sighing, turning back toward me, he ran his hands through his hair. “There’s no time to explain any of it,” Alijah said defeated. “Just know that I did what I had to do. It was all for you. You are my life, Noa. You are the reason I have hope. Why so many of us have hope. You will never truly be alone. Remember that.”

I couldn’t stop myself, I didn’t want to. Flinging myself at him, wrapping my arms around his neck. Alijah hunched to wrap his arms around my waist. Straightening, momentarily lifting me off the ground. Burying my face into his neck, relishing in the familiar scent of my brother.

But even that was a bit off. He smelled of sweat, dust, and blood. Underneath though, that was all him.

The shadow of stubble rubbed against my cheek as he whispered into my ear. “Remember what you are while not forgetting who you are. Once you remember, never forget, Half Pint. Most of all, remember that I love you, Noa. Since the day I met you.”

The day he met me? Next time I talked to him, I would have to ask to hear that story. Hell, I didn’t even know what hospital I was born at. Maybe I was born at home or in a car on the way to the hospital.

“Remember who you are,” Alijah repeated. This time his voice sounded as if he was under water, being pulled from my arms.

Bolting upright, my heart raced, my breathing had turned ragged. My stomach rolled with nausea. The clock above the TV read 4:42.

“Hey, what’s wrong, Noa?” Bethany sat up beside me.

“Bad dream.” There was no chance I would be able to tell her about the dream without breaking down. There was something in Alijah’s eyes. The way they had sunken in. The growing shadows beneath. It felt like more than a representation of my sleeplessness.

Laying back down, Bethany laid beside me and grabbed my hand. Giving it a squeeze in the silence of the early morning hours.