Free Beautifully Ruined by Nessa Morgan

the sun and covered in scars and bruises, ones that weren’t there a moment ago. Even in my mind, a dream, I can’t hide that night from my memory.
    “What happened to you?” I ask, stepping closer, my hand outstretched to touch the flaws of her flesh. My hand falls between us before it connects with her skin. I don’t know what I’ll feel if I try to touch her. Maybe she’s not real— of course she’s not real, Joey, this is a dream —but more than that, what if when I try to touch her, my hand goes right through her like the flowers?
    I can’t have that happen.
    I want to touch my sister. She’s standing in front of me, that should mean I can touch her.
    But this is a dream. Only a dream.
    She turns her head to the side—she can barely look at me, barely see me. “You should know, Joey.” With that, she disappears, fading right before my eyes leaving me alone in an empty field surrounded by air and flowers.
    I should have touched her, felt her sun-kissed skin, when I had the chance. Now she’s gone.
    Tears trickle down my cheeks, falling to the front of my white dress. She was here—Ivy was here. She was talking to me. And she just left.
    She just left me.
    It’s breaking my heart, standing in this field—the last few moments replaying.
    Startled, I feel the sensation of air move over my shoulder, lightly rubbing back and forth along my skin. But it isn’t air.
    “Don’t be sad,” a deep, male voice tells me, distracting me from what I saw.
    I turn around.
    Suddenly, I feel safe wherever I am.
    Next to me, another familiar face I haven’t seen before. But I know who it is I’m looking at.
    “Noah?” I ask, a smile pulling at my frown.
    He nods.
    “Where am I?” I ask, hoping for an answer that makes some amount of logical sense, hoping for a better explanation than Ivy’s.
    “You should know the answer to that,” he tells me, dropping his hand. I barely felt it. “I can’t tell you anyway.”
    “Why not?”
    “Because even I don’t know.” That isn’t exactly what I wanted to hear from him, but I can’t complain. Not loudly, anyway. “But I’m here with you.” His hand reaches, cupping my cheek. I lean into his touch, feeling his skin, feeling him. It’s like he’s real—he’s real right now. Noah pulls his hand away, and the cool air presses against my cheek, reminding me instantly of the loss of the recent and the past.
    “I don’t remember you being this nice to me when we were kids,” I confess, remembering all the times he pulled my hair and hid my favorite toys. Every inch the big brother I despised as a little girl but still loved until no end.
    “Well, you have to admit that you’re embellishing this quite a bit, Joey.” He rolls up the sleeves to his shirt, scrunching them to his elbows. “This is your dream.”
    My dream? Does that mean anything can happen and I’ll be the one controlling it? That whole the world is your oyster bullshit comes to mind. The type of stuff they drill into your mind in school. But I try. I try to make it rain because that’s the only way I’ll believe him. I close my eyes tightly, breathing slowly, hoping to feel that first drop. That first drop of water hitting the center my forehead, but nothing happens. I try harder to make it rain—will it, wish it—do everything I can, but still nothing.
    “It won’t work,” he tells me, eyeing me suspiciously.
    I shrug it off.
    “Then why now?” I ask no one in particular, I’m just thinking out loud—listening to myself talk and complaining. Because I’ve had plenty of years, plenty of opportunities, to have these dreams. So many times before, Noah or Ivy could’ve stepped into my dreams and been as equally cryptic as ever. But why now? Why do this to me now? “Why see you both now and here?” Wherever here is .
    “Because you’re going through a tough time. What they call a rough patch .” Noah tucks his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “If we can’t be there