The Hunter
from Chapter Three
Alison sat on the edge of the bed. Lightening lit up the dark room and she
saw it was the bedroom she occupied as a child. The pink flowered bedspread, the
shelf of dolls on the wall, and the closet full of dresses should have comforted her and
brought her a nostalgic joy. Instead, her muscles were so rigid that her body shook
and her eyes were wide with fear.
The cracking of thunder set her into motion and she jumped off the bed
and ran to the wall opposite the door. She slid sideways along the wall until she
found the corner and then crouched down. She wrapped her arms tight around her knees
and tried to silence her erratic breathing so he wouldn’t hear her.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
The sound of his heavy footsteps in the hallway echoed terror through
her mind and tears raced down her face and dripped onto her knees. Suddenly the door
flung open and the tall, shadowed figure started into her room. “Lissa,”
the man called.
Her shaking stopped immediately as did the tears. She leaned
forward with hopeful eyes. Her voice was childlike as she innocently asked,
“Daddy?”
The man approached her as he spoke. “I’m afraid
not.”
Alison creased her brow. “Then why did you call me
that? My daddy’s the only one who ever called me that.”
“It’s a very special nickname to you.”
Lightening flashed again and she caught a glimpse of his face before
the room fell dark. The image lingered in her mind as her eyes began to
readjust. Though she could remember every contour of his face, every feature so
perfect as if a thousand artists had spent their lifetimes creating him, the one thing
that remained with her were his eyes. They were incredibly dark and no color
accurately described them. She couldn’t remember ever having seen eyes like his
before and they instantly enchanted her.
His figure loomed in front of her and he held his hand down to
her. She hesitated. Thunder shook the room and her heart pounded faster,
merging its pattern with her breathing.
His hand still reached for her and she looked at it longingly, wanting
to trust him. She looked back to his eyes and an almost sensual warmth flooded her
body, bringing color to her cheeks.
“It’s okay, Lissa. You’re safe with me.”
Alison reached up and took his hand. He helped her up and she
found herself standing close to him, her eyes still intent on his. He cupped her
face in his hands and used his thumbs to brush her tears away. The tenderness of his
touch made her heart jump. “Who are you?” she asked, her voice sounding
distant and dreamlike.
He let go of her and stepped back. “My name is Logan.”
Alison’s eyes flew open, her initial gasp for air audible and
hungry. She held her breath for a brief moment, then began to draw long, deep
breaths. She slowly became oriented to her surroundings, the feel of her clothes,
the couch below her, and the familiar atmosphere of her living room. But something
was different. There was a distinctive change to the air, almost as if it were
cleaner, warmer. In the depths of her mind, she saw the fading image of a man,
someone from her subconscious.
What a strange dream, she thought. But before she had time
to fully remember what it was about, her eyelids closed again and she fell into a
blissfully dreamless sleep.
© 2004