“You know what? Don’t even bother. They won’t want to be friends with me after this. I have a freak for a son. Who would want to be involved with what’s going on?” Her hair was tight in a ponytail this morning, and it made her bright green eyes look even meaner. “Huh? Answer me. Who would want to do this with us?”
“I don’t—”
“Answer me!”
“I don’t understand,” he wheezed out. I’m so scared. And the bull inside of me feels like he’s getting big again.
“Want me to kill her?” a voice rumbled through his head. He shook his head hard and whimpered. I’m scared.
Mom sighed and rested her hands on her hips, shook her head. “I’m going to fix this for you because that’s what good mommas do. They fix their children.”
Fix me?
“I’ve already contacted people who can help us. You’re going to be normal again. Don’t worry. I’ll make it all right. My baby boy is dead right now, but I’m going to get you back.”
He was dead? He looked out the window at the falling snow, and nothing made sense anymore. Nothing. It was so cold. Deep winter. He was dead? I’m scared.
“Momma has to go meet with someone for a little while, and it’s best you stay here. Don’t want to risk taking you in public if that thing will come out of you again. I’m going to meet with someone very important. Someone like you who will teach me how to fix you.”
The animal was getting too big. He hated Mom. His blood was boiling with a mixture of rage and fear. Pain blasted through his head, and he whispered out, “Momma, help,” as he doubled over in agony. It happened so fast, and then he was on four legs. And then he was standing, head down, heart filled with something dark that made his whole body hurt.
Momma screamed, “You’re an abomination!” She moved to close the door. She would lock him in here.
And then the young bull charged.
Dead sat up with a gasp and hit his head on the bunk bed above him. “Mother…freaking…son of a Pegasus. Ballsack.” He rubbed the knot on the top of his head.
That was his least favorite dream-memory ever. It was the birth of his bucking name. Thanks, Ma.
Warmth trickled down his eyebrow, and he squeezed his eyes closed so blood wouldn’t get inside. Dead shoved off the bed and made his way to the bathroom in the dark. The cut had already slowed it’s bleeding by the time he wiped it off with a folded wet tissue. He locked his arms against the sink and stared at himself. He looked haunted right now.
This was the time he always went to the bar. The only cure he’d found for the memories was a in a bottle of whiskey. His keys were by the door.
In the bedroom, Raven sighed in her sleep, and he turned his ear toward the sound. He didn’t want to wake her up, but just that little noise that said he wasn’t alone eased the tightness in his chest.
He didn’t really want to go to a bar. They would close in an hour, and he felt anchored here. He didn’t want to leave Raven.
But pieces of that memory and a hundred others were flashing behind his eyes, and he couldn’t just keep glitching. Glitching meant the bull would come out of him ready to fight.
Maybe the tense feeling behind his sternum would feel even better if he saw Raven.
Quietly, he made his way up the stairs, careful to avoid the creaky one, and stood in the doorway. His night vision was excellent, and thank the Lord for the blessings of the beast inside him, because Raven looked so pretty all curled on her side, hugging a pillow, her full lips slightly parted, a little worried furrow drawing her dark eyebrows down. Pretty girl. He liked when she wore his T-shirt. A sense of possessiveness nearly overwhelmed him. He should get her more T-shirts. Maybe one’s he’d worn so she could smell like him.
He’d forgotten to turn off the strands of outdoor lights, and the soft glow was filtering in through the open blinds, casting her cheeks in warm lighting. Pretty, pretty Raven. A bird of a human with a monster of a longhorn inside of her. What a unique woman. He hadn’t been lying when he’d told her he’d never met anyone like her. Everything about her drew him to her and made him want to learn more.
Momma has to go meet with someone for a little while, and it’s best you stay here. Don’t want to risk taking you in public if that thing will come out of you again.
He made his way to the door, but for the life of him, he couldn’t pull the door open. He stood there frozen, caught between the memories and the woman in the other room. He wanted to go drink himself numb or turn into his bull, just to dull the remnants of that dream, but he didn’t want to leave Raven.
Maybe he had whiskey here. Two Shots had brought some over the other day. He walked into the kitchen and pulled open the corner cabinet, and there it sat—a bottle of Jameson.
But he couldn’t reach for it. He froze again as Raven sighed in the other room.
Was she dreaming, too?
Selfish creature that he was, he tiptoed into the bedroom for a fix he had never tried before. He hesitated by the bed, but his chest did feel better, and his head felt clearer. His mother’s voice was just a whisper now, and whispers, he could deal with.
He pulled up the covers and slipped into bed behind her, wrapped his arms around her,
