#michael&adam

                thɛ ѕɛɑ ѕо ԁɛɛρ ɑnԁ ƅlinԁ                 thɛ ѕυn, thɛ ⱳilԁ ɾɛgɾɛt                 thɛ ϲlυƅ, thɛ ⱳhɛɛl, thɛ minԁ         о ʆоⱴɛ, ɑɾɛƞ'ʈ γоυ ʈiɾɛԁ γɛʈ?

                thɛ ƅlооԁ, thɛ ѕоil, thɛ fɑith                 thɛѕɛ ⱳоɾԁѕ γоυ ϲɑn't fоɾgɛt                 γоυɾ vоⱳ, γоυɾ hоlγ ρlɑϲɛ                   о ʆоⱴɛ, ɑɾɛƞ'ʈ γоυ ʈiɾɛԁ γɛʈ?

                ɑ ϲɾоѕѕ оn ɛⱴɛɾγ hill                 ɑ ѕtɑɾ, ɑ minɑɾɛt                 ѕо mɑnγ gɾɑⱴɛѕ tо fill                           о ʆоⱴɛ, ɑɾɛƞ'ʈ γоυ ʈiɾɛԁ γɛʈ?

                thɛ ѕɛɑ ѕо ԁɛɛρ ɑnԁ ƅlinԁ                 ⱳhɛɾɛ ѕtill thɛ ѕυn mυѕt ѕɛt                 ɑnԁ timɛ itѕɛlf υnⱳinԁ

                                о ʆоⱴɛ,                                          ɑɾɛƞ'ʈ γоυ ʈiɾɛԁ γɛʈ?

It's a familiar setting.  His last visit home from school, his last night alive as himself.  The memory stored in his brain might not be completely accurate, but it feels real enough - too real - and there are always small, disturbing discrepancies that the kid can neither file away as authentic or decidedly false.

Reaching home after a long drive.  His mother a little off: Adam chalked it up to one of her usual bouts of melancholy depression and paid it little heed, more important things on his mind.  A party his pagan roommate was planning for Beltane; that cute redhead who just transferred into his chemistry class; an essential project in anatomy - their first human cadaver dissection...the irony.

Adam hadn't realized it was more than just one of his mom's off moods until he was woken late that night, a man he'd never seen before looming over him with obvious threat, and her voice when he started to fight back.

     "Bleed him a little.  He'll struggle less..."

                “Not too much.  Don't want you checking out for good yet, Adam honey."

So it's definitely the right setting, the right timeframe, but all the other elements are missing.  Within the dream, Adam sits up in the bed in his childhood home in Windom and scans the room.  Which is apparently empty.  That's new.  He stares into the shadows at the corners of the room, just waiting.

Nothing.

Except there is...something.  It's a peculiar awareness.  Nothing's here to 'bleed him a little', his veins are unopened.  But there's a sensation like something's drawing the blood straight from his heart, slow, steady, and inexorable, almost magnetic or like being sucked into a black hole.  And the thing is, the really disconcerting thing undermining his composure is it's not unfamiliar, that feeling.  Though he can't place it he recognizes the sensation.  However empty the room might seem the kid is abruptly certain that he isn't alone.