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He found himself wandering alone in the dark, his footsteps uncertain and unsteady. He reached out with both hands as though blind, his mouth running ash-dry as he walked.
It was as though he were in a dark tunnel. And damn if he didn't feel scared. Here he was, a fully grown man, six-foot-five and two-hundred and forty pounds, and he was full of naked fear.
"Hello?" he called, hating the inflection of his voice. The single word seemed to echo hollowly in the air. Something or someone was there with him, stalking him. He knew it... He couldn't hear footfalls or see anything, not even moving shadows, but somehow, he knew it.
Then, after the moment of deathlike silence came the laughter. It was soft in volume and held absolutely no traces of humor, which chilled him to the core. He whirled around in a hurry, arms up, hands balled into fists as he prepared to defend himself if he needed to. Still, he couldn't make out even the faintest outline of the person... A man. That laugh could never be mistaken as belonging to a woman.
"Who are you?" he demanded. "What do you want from me?" Damn it, he hated the way he sounded - and felt. It was as though he were a kid again and not a thirty-three year-old man. What the hell was wrong with him?
The laughter came again, this time louder and seemingly closer to him. Despite himself, he swung out blindly with both fists, a snarl escaping him in his efforts. But it was futile.
"You're a very bad boy, Adam!" the voice suddenly boomed.
He froze, his eyes widening with fear, his breathing quickening along with his heart rate. He knew that voice, knew it with every fiber of his being even though it had been almost twenty-five years since he'd last heard it.
"And you know what happens to boys when they're bad."
"Get away from me!" he shouted. His eyes widened seconds later as a flash of light struck, and he caught a glimpse of the loathed, cruel face, laughing at him mere inches away. He gasped and turned around to run, but his feet seemed as though they were mired in mud and failed him.
"Ahh, shit!" He was once again enveloped in complete, utter darkness as he tried desperately to run. He felt a scream building up inside as he felt an unbelievably cold grip suddenly on the back of his neck...
"You're going to join your rotting mother!" the voice boomed.
He swallowed hard, a lump in his throat. He felt sick and knew he was going to lose the battle with the vomit he felt coming.
Adam suddenly bolted awake in his bed, his eyes wild, breathing fast and heavy as he furtively scanned the area. He put up both hands simultaneously, clenching them into fists and prepared to fight.
He realized he was blessedly alone, and still in his bed. There was no one here with him. Mike wasn't there. It had all been a horrible dream. Yet, it had felt so, terribly real.
His breathing began to return to normal, and he ran a hand over his stubble-covered face and then through his hair. He really had to get a grip on himself. It was bad enough that he got the visions, but a nightmare was a whole different story. Now that he was awake, he couldn't help feeling foolish.
He'd felt such stark terror in the dream, and it had accompanied him as he'd awakened. That really bothered him. He had nothing to fear. Why should he still be afraid of that horrible man? Yes, Mike had brutally murdered his mother when he was a kid... But he was a grown man now, and out of his life over these past twenty-five years. Mike held no power over him. He hadn't back then and he didn't now, either. On top of that, he didn't even know if the man was still alive.
The blond man sighed and checked the time on the digital clock on the bureau across the room. He threw the blanket aside and swung his legs over the bed to the floor to get up. The way he knew himself, he would never get back to sleep after that dream. He figured he might as well go shower, get dressed and go out. Maybe he'd run into Shawn or Amy at the diner.
Thoughts of the beautiful, shapely redhead calmed him a considerable degree. They'd spent a few hours together the previous day and into part of the night, and he had gotten to know more about her. He'd grown more comfortable around her than he had with mostly anyone in the longest time, especially of the female persuasion. Even when he'd dated Melina Perez, whom he'd liked a lot and still did as a friend, he hadn't warmed up enough. He'd planned on simply spending some time with Amy outside and not in his home. It had everything to do with his secretive nature. But he'd let her in very briefly before she'd gone home. He'd allowed her to use the bathroom and given her a very quick, cursory tour of the house from the living room.
He hoped she didn't think of him as odd. Well, she knew all about the visions and had actually seemed cool
about them... But he could never be absolutely sure of what was really going through a person's mind. For some
reason, he found it extremely important what Amy Dumas thought of him.