Visionary Awakened – Yumoyori Wilson

I stood once again in the burning home, my eyes scanning around the vintage styled living room that was now being consumed by flames. The heat was unbearable, even in the state I was in: a bystander watching the world around me crumble as dark grey smoke gathered around the room, making it harder and harder to see. The sound of a child’s cries for their mom cut through my focus, hurting my heart. I could feel the agony, remorse and sheer fear from the one word that held more weight than anything in that moment. This child loved his mom with all his heart, yet based on the sound of the heartbroken voice, I worried that his mother might have been injured. Or even worse. My legs moved on their own, step by step, walking through the blazing flames which burned hot, but did nothing to harm me. I could feel droplets of sweat roll down my cheeks and the increase in my breathing as I walked through the house and up the stairs as the fire raged around me. I reached the top step, hearing the soft cries of the child, which urged me to move faster. He could have been hurt or trying to find a way out of this scorching hot place. It would only be a matter of time before the entire house collapsed, but I couldn’t leave that poor child here to die. I walked down the hall to the master bedroom, the cries and whimpers growing louder and more frequent, making my eyes sting with my increasing agony. I reached the room, the door was already open and burning to shreds. I turned my head, my eyes landing on a horrible sight. There was the child, a little boy.

His rosy cheeks were red and stained with tears and blood. He cried with his head held high, rocking back and forth as he held a woman in his little arms. The woman was beautiful, yet the tragedy of what had happened to her left her beauty tarnished with blood all over, deep wounds, and a pool of crimson beneath her. Her once bright orange eyes were dull, the life within them gone, even though they remained open. Her lips, which I could imagine had once been pink were now purple with hints of blood on them. The bruises on her arms and legs were horrendous. The deep cut to her throat and the large gash on her stomach were the culprits behind the immense amount of blood on the ground. Her long brown hair was a mess, some spots in her scalp missing large chunks of the brown strands. I was rendered speechless, unsure how to comfort the boy. I knew right away from the familiar facial features that this boy was cradling his dead mother as the home that he must have grown up in was burning down around him.

If I didn’t help, he’d perish along with it. I approached him, wishing I could do something, but a part of me told me I couldn’t. This had already happened and all I could do was watch in horror and empathy for the little boy. He opened his tear-filled eyes to stare at me, their amber gaze almost matching the flames that surrounded him. He held back his cries while his shoulders shook, those big eyes which pooled with tears locked onto me. I could see his pain, but I could also see the hint of love in them. Even though he was in the worst situation anyone could be, he still held love in his heart. There was hope that he would heal, even though that hope seemed to be stolen from him at this very moment. I heard footsteps and I turned around to see Kendrick. Dad? He met the little boy’s gaze and sadness blossomed on his face as he slowly approached the boy.

The child looked afraid, tightening his hold on his mom, as if she could protect him from this new stranger who was so familiar to me. Kendrick smiled, blinking back his own tears as he crouched down, holding out his hand. The boy looked to be in shock, holding onto his mom and shivering in fear as he glanced at the proffered hand. Kendrick stood where he was, seemingly unconcerned that the house was already beginning to crack and wood was falling from the ceiling. It was as if, in that moment, nothing mattered except him and the little boy with those gorgeous amber eyes. Kendrick didn’t care if he died in the blaze, as long as the boy knew that he was a good man and could be trusted to save him. The boy lifted his right hand, staring at the blood cloaking his little palm. He returned his gaze to Kendrick, who didn’t rush him, smiling encouragingly at the boy as he waited patiently. Eventually, the boy put his hand in Kendrick’s. “Mommy.

Can Mommy come?” he begged with a sob, tears rolling down his cheeks. Kendrick looked at the woman’s body, looking deep in concentration before nodding slowly. “Mommy can come. I’ll carry her, and you lead the way. Can you make sure the fire doesn’t hurt us?” he asked. The boy nodded quickly, looking more hopeful at the option now that his mother would go with them. I didn’t know if he had registered that his mother was no longer alive, but Kendrick’s willingness to carry the dead woman in his arms for the sake of the little boy’s closure tore at my heart, prompting sobs to escape me as tears rolled down my cheeks. The boy moved back, allowing Kendrick to pick up the woman’s body. It didn’t matter what was left behind at this point. Vital evidence that could have helped solve who had done this would be destroyed once the whole house burned to ash, which would happen before anyone came to help.

“I’ll go first to make sure the hall is safe,” Kendrick urged. The little boy nodded, watching Kendrick step into the hall while carrying the still form of his mother. I waited for the boy to move, but he stood there, taking a final look around the room, before his eyes landed on a dresser that surprisingly hadn’t caught fire yet. His little legs ran over to the white wooden piece of furniture. He opened the top drawer and pulled a little box out. He opened it up, revealing a small bracelet with a bright red jewel hanging from it. The bracelet reminded me of a charm bracelet and the ruby red jewel had a mixture of orange and gold in it, looking even more similar to the flames. He ran to the doorway, passing by me, taking one last look around him. “Mommy, I’ll find him…and kill him,” he declared. The last three words sent shivers through me and his eyes glowed with rage; one eye was a bright orange and the other a dark navy blue, reminding me of two different individuals in one body.

He stepped away just in time. The ceiling collapsed in at the doorway where he had just been. I remained where I was, watching the house continue to burn until it finally collapsed in on itself. I was left wondering one final thing as I was buried amongst the rubble, darkness enveloping me. Did the boy ever get his revenge? “Scar.” “Hmm?” I moaned, not wanting to wake up. I had to find out what happened to the little boy. I needed to see how it ended. I had the urge to draw the scene out, to sketch the way his eyes showed so many strong emotions. Pain.

Grief. Anger. Determination. My fingers ached to draw it out, but I was losing time. The image was already fading little by little. I was still so exhausted, the heat of the house somehow working to drain me, even if a part of me understood it was nothing but an illusion. “Scarlet,” Michael’s soft voice whispered in my ear. I didn’t respond, dealing with my internal battle to try and hold on to the once solid image of the boy that was fading little by little: the piece of work I would have drawn if I could just get up and let my fingers do their work with a pencil and paper in hand. I felt something brush along my cheek, moving some strands of my neon orange hair that had been straightened before I went to bed. The hand moved to tuck the hair behind my ear.

Then I heard Michael’s voice whisper, “Scarlet, you need to open your eyes.” I didn’t want to. I’d keep ignoring him as long as I could. Maybe if I did, my mind would return to that moment, continuing the story where I had left off and reveal to me how the boy gained revenge for his lifeless mother. I heard Michael sigh before he whispered again. “Scarlet. Open your eyes.” I reluctantly opened them, having felt the magic lacing his words, which only made me pout as I struggled to keep them open. I lifted my head slightly, looking over my shoulder to see Michael’s glowing eyes, their dark copper tinge giving away that he was using his gift to make me wake up. “Why?” I whined, giving him a heartbroken look.

Didn’t he understand he was preventing me from finding out the end of the tragic story? It had to have a happy ending. Why was he preventing me from seeing it? Michael gave me a sympathetic look before placing his hand on my shoulder, gesturing for me to turn over to face him. I slowly turned to my left side to look at him, my half-open eyes slowly assessing his bare chest and lowering to the black comforter that covered our lower halves. I wore a black lingerie set to bed, not necessarily out of comfort, but because I was having a good time teasing the guys. They had been so stressed about everything that was going on that I felt a bit of teasing with some sexy lingerie would help to ease their nerves. “Because you were having a bad dream,” he pointed out. “No…I didn’t see the end,” I mumbled, my eyes already filling with tears. Michael frowned, turning over to put the night lamp on before he sat up. I took my time getting up as Michael grabbed my sketchbook and a pencil, offering both to me. I reached out to them, wondering if I could even draw the image that was already half gone from my mind.

Instead of debating about my capabilities, my left hand just moved to a clean page and I began to draw. The sound of the pencil gliding across the page at a quick pace and our quiet inhales and exhales were the only sounds in the room. Michael patiently waited for me to draw out the dream I’d witnessed. Or had it been a vision? My hand stopped when the image was completely gone from my mind and I frowned at the unfinished work in front of me. I was only able to sketch the left side of the boy, working extra hard to express the deep emotions in his still expression. The other half of him was nothing but little dots, fading away. Flames raged on his left side, showing the desolate and almost hopeless situation he faced as a tear rolled down his cheek. The right side was filled with smoke, emphasizing what remained of the debris that would be left after the fire was finally put out. I sighed, wanting to rip the sheet out, but Michael stopped me, his right hand holding onto my left hand. I lifted my tired eyes to meet his and I let my tears fall.

“Scar?” he whispered, looking confused by my display of emotion. “The boy. He didn’t get a happy ending. I…wanted him…to…but he didn’t,” I cried. Michael didn’t ask any questions, just pulled me into his arms to let me cry for the little boy who lost his world in that fire. I didn’t need any details to imagine the little boy’s smile as he ran through the house, laughing and playing with his toys as his mother, alive and well, laughed at how energetic her son was. “Scar, love. It’s going to be okay. Maybe one day he will have a happy ending. You just have to go back to sleep and find out,” Michael suggested.

“You woke me up,” I complained. “I did, but only because you sounded like you were having a nightmare or vision. You’ve been doing this a lot lately when you sleep with Jaxson and I in the same bed,” Michael revealed. “Jax…son?” I asked, having completely forgotten we were at his place. I looked over my shoulder to see him asleep on his back next to us. His bare chest rose up and down as he slept. His left hand was behind his head while his right arm was reaching out to where I was sleeping before. I must have been snuggled up with him before Michael decided to wake me up. “Hmmm.” I was unsure what to say.

Now that I saw Jaxson all alone on his side, I felt like it was my duty to make sure he wasn’t lonely, even if it was in his sleep. Michael had a small grin when I turned my head back to him. He raised his hands to wipe away the tears that stained my cheeks. He leaned in and kissed me. The tender action was quick, but helped comfort me in my distress. Logically, it sounded rather stupid that I was so upset over a dream: a scene of a boy, who might have been a part of my imagination. Or he could have been a real human being with a dark past, that had vowed to get justice for his mom, who was now one with the stars. “You want to go back to sleep on Jaxson’s side?” Michael asked. “Jaxson’s lonely I think…but I don’t want you to be lonely either,” I mumbled, my eyes beginning to close. I felt a kiss pressed to my shoulder, and when I looked up, I saw sleepy amber eyes meet mine.

“What has my baby in tears?” he whispered, his sad eyes staring at my tired ones, which were probably red from my tears. “The boy,” I whispered and yawned, lifting my hands to rub at my eyes. The boy’s image still lingered in my mind. I heard the slight movement on the bed, wondering if I’d woken Jaxson completely. “What’s wrong?” Jaxson’s husky voice asked. Michael gently rubbed my back, before pulling me into his arms to rest while he talked to Jaxson. “Vision,” he stated and Jaxson was silent. There was a long pause before Jaxson answered. “I see.” “Jaxson.

” Michael’s stern voice intrigued me, unsure why he sounded mad all of a sudden. “She needs to rest. We have another case in the morning,” Jaxson mumbled. Michael was silent and his heart began to beat faster, which was rather calming. “Michael, your heart sounds nice,” I mumbled. Michael sighed. “We’re talking about this in the morning,” he told Jaxson, before returning his attention to me. “And thank you, Scarlet.” “Fine,” Jaxson muttered, sounding a little irritated, but didn’t say anything more. I took that moment to lift my head up to look at Jaxson.

“We have an assignment in the morning?” I asked. He sighed, nodding his head. “After you fell asleep, we got a call from Kendrick. We have another case to look into at nine. Try to go back to sleep,” he explained, before leaning in and kissing me gently on the lips. I noticed the hesitation in the exchange, which left me confused and wanting to correct it. I kissed him back, hoping the directness of my action would help, even if I didn’t understand exactly what he was feeling hesitant about. He moaned, immediately responding to my move. Soon our lips were fighting for dominance while his hand glided through my hair. “So much for waking up early,” Michael sighed.

I moaned when his lips pressed against my shoulder, sending shivers of excitement through me. I was so tired, yet I didn’t want to stop, my body craving some dual action. We’d been so caught up in everything that we’d barely had any private time lately. Even when we had, it was either interrupted by another case or we all were just too exhausted from the chaotic day we’d just had. It wasn’t long till Jaxson’s lips were trailing down my back while Michael was kissing me passionately. “Early morning,” Jaxson reminded. Michael broke the heated kiss and rolled his eyes. “Says the guy who started it in the first place.” “I like cuddling too. That’s nice.

” I yawned. They both smiled and helped me lay back down before coming to rest next to me. Michael’s body pressed against my backside and Jaxson lay facing me. It wasn’t long before Michael was fast asleep, his arm securely around my waist and his breathing slow and even. I slowly opened my eyes to see Jaxson staring at me, his expression made him look deep in thought. “What’s wrong?” I mumbled. He gave me a small smile, blinking out of his concentrated daze. He shook his head from side to side. “Nothing, Scar baby. Go to sleep.

Need you to be badass tomorrow for our next case,” he teased, lifting his hand to stroke my cheek. “And don’t short circuit anything, please.” “That wasn’t my fault,” I mumbled. “Okay. No getting stuck in a mall full of crazy shifters who want to kill you, either,” he added and I let out a quiet giggle. “That wasn’t my fault either. They didn’t like my hair,” I reminded. “Ah, true. Well, I love your hair. It fits you perfectly,” he whispered, moving slightly to kiss me.

This kiss held passion and certainty. It made my worries fade and the tension leave my shoulders. I could sleep now knowing Michael and him were both okay. “You’re okay…right?” I asked when our lips parted. He nodded with a smile, moving closer so I could snuggle right against him. He kissed my forehead before relaxing. “I’m fine, Scar. Go to sleep,” he whispered. I didn’t reply, my mind already drifting off. I welcomed the darkness, hoping I’d get to see what happened next to the boy, whose glowing mismatched eyes showed how determined he was to claim his happy ending.

I just prayed to the Starlight gods that he got it.

.

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