Free Quicksilver Dreams (Dreamwalkers) by Danube Adele Page A

survival strategy.
    My pale blue eyes, almond shaped, were set above a pert, small nose, and my high cheekbones curved above full lips that looked even fuller because they were swollen and pink from ravishment. It was a good look for me.
    Life is so weird. You just never know what the next day is going to bring.
    A smile brought the twinkle back to my eyes.
    Ryder couldn’t resist me.
    On that note, I made a quick detour to slide the front-door lock before going to the bathroom in my room and, whistling, taking a nice long shower. Regretfully, all of Ryder’s handiwork with the gauze had to be redone, and an impish voice in my head tried to convince me to go to his apartment and have a repeat performance, but the more sane voice called a halt to that idea.
    This thing with Ryder was sudden and overwhelming. I couldn’t just go jumping off the deep end here when I didn’t know the guy. I needed time to think and consider. I needed to find my balance. I needed to remember that I was a self-sufficient woman who could stand on her own and didn’t need to rely on men to be sugar daddies, like my mother did.
    But the apartment felt large and quiet as I rambled around the rooms in a large T-shirt. Turning on the TV, I grabbed a bagel, some peanut butter and an apple, making a meal out of the simple fare while watching a bad reality show. I must have fallen asleep, because I found myself in a recurring nightmare that I’ve had since “the incident,” when I was five years old.
    I’m at the L.A. County Fair with my mother and so happy, because for once she is spending time with just me. The two of us. So often, she has to “go to work” or “meet someone,” and I get stuck with my grandmother in her house, with her smoke-stained air that makes my throat sore. But not today. Today, she says she wants to spend time with her little girl.
    We set out at lunchtime and gorge ourselves on hot dogs, soda and ice cream. We go on the kiddy rides, play games and have someone take a picture of us with our camera, behind one of the silly cutouts. There are so many emotions: excitement mixed with love and happiness. There’s a loud din of white noise. People talking and laughing, the music from various rides intertwining and creating chaotic sound, and bright colors flashing here and there make up the background.
    Then it suddenly turns to night. It’s dark. My mother leaves me alone. She tells me to wait for her on the wall while she goes into the wine-drinking place to say hi to a friend. I’m a good girl and wait. Strangers loom out of the dark with concern, asking if I’m okay. Am I lost? But I say no. I’m waiting. My mother told me to wait. I don’t know how long I’m waiting. No, I won’t go with them and get help. They’re strangers, and my mommy always told me to never talk to strangers.
    Panic sets in. I question myself. Have I got her instructions right? She’s always telling me it’s my fault that I’m left behind so often, because I don’t listen. Didn’t my mother tell me to wait here? It seems like it’s been a long time. I’m getting cold. It’s dinnertime again, and I’m getting hungry. Where is she?
    A glowing white flower winks at me, kind of like magic. It was just lying next to me on the wall, and I pick it up. It’s soft and pretty, like my mommy. I could go give it to her, and then we could go home and have some dinner. That seems like a good plan.
    I go to the wine-drinking place and peek through the door, but I can’t see her, and a big man meanly tells me I can’t come in. Where is she? I look around and around and all I see are tall strangers. I move from one exhibit to another. I can’t find her. I start crying and running and the lights are getting too bright and the music from the rides is getting too loud and my shirt is suddenly snagged by a stranger’s hand that takes on the dimensions of a horrid claw, and I scream and scream.
    It’s okay Taylor. The deep, warm voice stops me.
    I