My head was spinning and the air was coming too fast. The blood in my forehead pounded, giving me a massive headache. The air was so cold and my whole body shivered in the rain. I could feel the water running down my face along with my tears. I was dreaming, wasn't I? All this had to be a really, really bad dream. I clung my jacket closer to myself and looked around. Where was I? It looked like a street, a lonely one really, but I could see two blaring lights in the darkness. It hurt my eyes, so I looked down instead.

What was happening to me? Was I going crazy? The lights began to grow, coming closer. I just wanted to go home. Home, where I could be safe and warm and dry. I put my arms around my knees and sat where I was, holding on to myself. The lights carried a humming sound with them... just like a car. Yes, it was a car- and it had stopped right in front of me- the lights still on. This made me cranky, and I began to sniffle again. The door of the car opened, but I couldn't see who it was. The lights were too bright for me. I guess the person realised this because it was off the next second. It didn't stop the head aches though. So I buried my face into my knees, covering the rest with my arms. Someone bent down next to me, touching my hair lightly. "Hey..." he said softly. I looked up at him and he smiled sadly at me, "Let's get you out of the rain okay?"

I allowed him to pick me up. He put an arm around my shoulder and tried to get me into a standing position. But my legs just crumbled under me and it seemed like I was going to fall flat on my face. It didn't happen, because he was there holding all my weight. "Okay..." he said under his breath and scooped me up into his arms. I looked at his face, my vision was all blurry and the rain didn't help exactly. He was warm and relatively dry, so I hid my face in his chest protecting my self from the cold as he walked me to his car. I don't know how he managed to do that, but he'd open the door of the passenger seat with his third hand, I guess, for two were busy holding me, and put me in the seat. It was warm and dry in the car... just like home. I heard the door shut next to me, and the car sway a little to my left as he got in and shut his door. I looked at him with drowsy eyes... I wanted to go home and sleep. "So sweetheart," his voice was gentle, "Where do you live? We've got to get you home."

This was weird. Now that he'd asked, it actually got me thinking. I wanted to go home every minute since I was here, which in turn raises another question. How long was I here? And where was my home? Was I high? I had to be because suddenly I couldn't remember anything about where I lived or what I was doing on this god forsaken street. But I didn't do drugs... nor did I ever have alcohol. I touched my head with my numb cold fingers and banged my head into head rest of my seat. "I don't know..." I murmured like an idiot, shaking my head lightly as the tears welled up in my eyes again. What was wrong with me? I felt like crying over every little thing. "What's your name?" he asked after a moment of silence.

Good question.

"Meygan..." I said. At least I think it is. "Meygan..." he repeated, "I'll take you home, get you dry, or you're going to fall really ill. Then we'll look for your home. Is that okay?" I nodded. What else could I have done? It wasn't like there was any other option. He started the car and began to drive. There was a soft music playing- it was a classic. I knew it well, although I couldn't recall the name. I knew exactly what the next note was going to be. It was calming to my mind, so I closed my eyes and drifted off into sleep. It felt good closing my eyes out of tiredness and not to shield myself from something that caused my head to throb.

When I woke up, the car had stopped in front of a house. I didn't recognize it. The boy got out of the car and walked around the front to open my door. I saw his face in the light. He had dark brown hair and gray eyes. His face was filled with concern. Probably for me. He looked at me from the open door. "Can you walk?" he asked. I nodded, not wanting to cause him any more trouble. I wasn't exactly that light. I managed to catch the door for support and put my legs out of the car. He watched me carefully, waiting. Probably waiting for me to fall, because when I did, he was there again. Picking me up completely so I didn't feel any weight. "I'm sorry," I whispered. He took me into the house and walked up the stairs. I looked around, half conscious. The house was beautiful. It was not exactly lavish but it had a certain aura to it. He took me into a room and placed me on a bed. So, this had to be his bedroom. A sick pit grew in my stomach. What was going to happen? I was in a strange house with a stranger, feeble and easily breakable. I wouldn't be able to protect myself if something was going to go wrong. I looked at him carefully. His expression and body language did not carry the smallest amount of violence or indecency.

He was walking to his wardrobe and taking a shirt and shorts out of it. He placed them on the bed near my feet. Then he went and got a towel and held it out for me. "I'll leave you to change," he said, "Feel free to use the shower if you want to." he looked at the door next to the bed. "Okay..." I whispered and tried to get up. I couldn't. My whole body was cold and rigid and it hurt to breathe. He saw me struggle and helped me up. He put my arm around his neck and helped me to the bathroom. I walked slowly, taking his support. He turned on the bath water for me and I looked at him. "I'll take it from here..." I managed to give him a smile. He felt reassured by that, so he nodded, "Sure." After he left I took off my clothes and just let them fall to the ground, stepping into the bath tub. I let the warm water soak into my cold fingers and toes. It was helpful and my tight shoulders began to relax. After about twenty minutes I decided to step out. Dragging my body to the towel hanging, I wrapped it around myself and let my wet hair fall across my back. I went out and tried to dry myself as thoroughly as I could manage. I had no strength in my arms to dry my hair, but I managed the rest as I put on his big white shirt and shorts which were too lose for me. He knocked on the door when I sat on the bed and pulled the sheets over my feet, my hair still dripping wet. "Come in..." I said and the door opened. He was holding a tray with a bowl of something that looked warm... just like his smile. "Soup," he announced as he came in and shut the door. "Thank you so much..." I paused, as I realised I didn't know his name. "Jared." he finished, "Your hair's still wet."
"Yeah..." I said, in no mood or condition to dry it. He placed the tray on the bedside table and grabbed the towel, sitting next to me on the bed. He took my head in his hands and started rubbing my hair with the towel. "Can I ask you something Meygan?" he said. I couldn't see his face for the white towel was all over my head. "Yeah?" I said anyway.

"What were you doing on Lawson Street?"

So that place is called Lawson Street? "I don't know."

I heard him sigh. "What's your last name?"

Now that I knew. "Callister"

"We'll find your house tomorrow, okay?" he said, taking the towel off my head and pushing my hair back from my face with his hands. He threw the towel across the room into what looked like the laundry basket and took the soup from the table. I expected him to hand me the bowl, but instead he took the spoon. Taking the liquid from the bowl, he blew on it to cool it down a little and held it close to my mouth. I smiled and drank it. It was a little salty and I winced slightly, without wanting to. It didn't go unnoticed. "I'm sorry," he looked at the bowl, "I'm not exactly very good in the kitchen." "No, its perfect," I lied smoothly, "My throat hurts, that's all." He believed it and offered me another spoon. "Is your head still hurting?"

"A little," I said, realising the throb in my head. "Have this and go to sleep." he said as he held the spoon out again. Slowly after I finished the entire bowl, he smiled, looking pleased. "Are you still hungry?"
"No, I'm fine" I said. "Okay, time to sleep." He smiled. I shifted slowly to place myself comfortably on the bed. He tucked me in. "Goodnight," his blue eyes were warm. "I'm here if you need me." As he began to turn, I held his hand. He looked down at me immediately. "What do you want?" he asked. "Will you talk to me until I fall asleep?" I said like a two year old. He paused for a moment, considering it and nodded. "Scoot over."
I shifted to give him place to sit. He sat next to me and that's when I realised that his fragrance was appealing. "What do you want me talk about?" he said, taking a strand off my face. "Anything that would keep the nightmares away" I whispered, and closed my eyes. He patted my hair lightly and stroked it. "Should I sing you to sleep?" I nodded. He hummed the same song we were listening to before in the car. A good choice, because it had managed to put me off to sleep when I needed the most. Slowly, his voice began to fade and the darkness covered me.

It was the middle of the night when my eyes opened. My forehead was sweating and I was breathing heavily. I realised I had had a nightmare again. I looked around me. Jared was right next to me, my head on his arm, his face calm and beautiful. I looked at him for a moment. His breathing was slow and uniform and it was a sight to see him sleep. I touched his face lightly with the tips of my fingers. His face changed a little and his eyes slowly opened. "Hey..." he said, the same way he had before- carefully. "I'm sorry I didn't mean to wake you up." "No, it's okay..." he said looking at my face. "Why are you crying?"
That's when I noticed the wet corners of my eyes. "Bad dream," I tried to smile. "Come here, " he pulled me closer, without hesitating, putting an arm around my waist and tucking my head under his chin. I took him close too, resting my hands on his chest and taking in his aroma. And I fell asleep again.










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It was a long time after I woke up. The window was bright and the light flowed in through the off white thin curtains. Jared was sitting on a chair on the right side of the bed. "Good morning," I said, touching my head and noticing that the pain was gone. He smiled at me and threw a tooth brush on the bed. "Thanks," I said and got off the bed. It wasn't as bad as yesterday, but at least my limbs had began to work. After I brushed and cleaned myself up, I walked out of the bathroom and sat on the bed looking at him. "Thank you Jared," I said. He nodded. Something was off.

"What's wrong?" I asked as I saw my brows knit together in the mirror on his left. He looked down at the paper in his hands, "Meygan..." he whispered and got up to sit next to me. "I looked up Callister on the net, and I got about twenty hits." He looked at me, carefully. "Is your father's name Chris?"
"Yes!' I said, my face glowing. But his did not change and I knew he was hoping I had said no. My heart sank. "What's wrong?" He hesitated. "There's something you need to know," he murmured. "Yeah?" I said, worry covering every inch of my face. "Your..." he breathed, "Your father died, almost a week ago."
The words didn't make any sense. My expression didn't change and he waited for me to take it in. But I didn't want to believe it. I wasn't going to believe it. It was a dream. This was a dream. However, I knew it wasn't because in the last few days, how many times had I wished that everything was a dream? And it never turned out to be one. He waited patiently. My dad was the only family I had and now this boy was telling me he wasn't there anymore? That I had no family? I looked at him questioningly, "He was murdered by a group of scumbags who'd broken into your house a week ago," he said, answering my unvoiced doubt, "After they had robbed your father of everything, they took you away with them..." he held up the paper, "That's what the article says. And I figured that they dumped you on Lawson Street." I looked at him, my eyes starting to water again. I started to shake my head and bend down to bury my face in the sheets. But he put his arms around me comfortingly, "It's okay..." he murmured, touching my back, rocking me a little, "shh..." he hushed.
I caught his shirt tightly and let the pain in my chest consume me. My father was dead. I had no family anymore. No place to live. No job at hand. Nothing to do. I started crying full fledged, making whimpering noises. He held me close anyway,"It's okay sweetheart... I'm here for you."
But how long could he be here for me? Actually, how long could I be here with him? He couldn't keep me forever. This guy barely knew me. And he'd already done me favors I couldn't pay back. "I'm a wreck!" I cried and kept ruining his shirt. "Look at me," he said holding my face in his hands, "It's going to be fine Meg, it's going to be fine! The cops have caught those jackasses and they're out looking for you." he said softly, his face inches from mine. "That won't bring my daddy back!" I cried. He nodded, "I know..."