It must be one of those nights where no dreams or visions visit me and my mind remains blank, black thoughts of sleep. Those are the best types of nights. Usually I'm practically dead to the world on those nights, but surprisingly, I'm jolted quite easily from my peaceful bubble of voidness.

    Screaming is the breaker of the peace. My heart's pounding so hard, the thudding, throbbing sensation can be felt in my ears. Immediately, all my senses kick in faster than characteristically normal and I sit straight up, completely erected.

   "What the hell!?"

    The screaming evolves to yelling- not completely full out shouting, but definitely not ignorable.

    My initial first thought is that my parents, next door, will be awoken by the noise as well and come investigate, which is not a viable option. The second thought that flies into my head is the source of the commotion.

   Kicking into action, I hastily push the covers off and slide out of bed onto the mattress below me where Xalale is in the grasp of, apparently, a bad dream.

   "I never made her a promise! I never made her a promise! I never told you-"

   "Xalale," I shake him with urgency. "Xalale, wake up. It's just a dream. It's just a dream."

    My eyes dart anxiously to the door where, even though I haven't heard any movement outside my door, I fear my parents might barge in at any moment if I don't calm him down.

   "I never told you that! I never made you a promise!"

    Even though I didn't want to add to the noise, I have no choice but to raise my voice above his.

   "Xalale!"

    My tactic of startling him awake works and he immediately wakes up, very disoriented the moment he does. He pulls away from me as though he doesn't recognize me, as though I'm a stranger.

    "It's okay, it was just a dream," I explain quickly.

    The look in his eyes is alert and, somewhat, fearful.

    I try to relieve the situation, adding a comforting tone as I speak.

    "Are you okay?"

    Finally, the fear seems to seep out of him as he lets out a shaky breath, leaning against my bed, running a hand through his hair. He's drenched in sweat and even though he was previously asleep, he appears stressed and tired.

    "Everything alri-"

    "No," He cuts me off. "Everything is not fine."

     He looks at me.

    "We need to talk. And this time-" He looks me deadpan in the eyes, his voice graver than I've ever heard. "This time I'll tell you everything."

    Keeping his gaze, I simply nod. With that, he begins to get up with me starting to as well until I hear something- movement in the halls.

   "Wait, wait, hold up." I freeze in place.

    Outside my door, I hear my dad's groggy voice.

    "Yes, I know I heard something- no, not a bird. It came from inside, Fran."

    The strained creaks of the worn floorboard alert me that he's approaching my room. Panicked, my mind kicks into overdrive.

    "Get under the bed," I order in a hushed whisper.

    Glancing at the door, he follows my instructions and crawls under my bed just as the doorknob to my door is jingling. Reacting fast, I slam myself down on the mattress and attempt to appear somewhat asleep. It's unfortunate that my bedsheets poorly cover the side of my bed and I'm praying my dad doesn't enter in too far or else just one glance over and he might notice Xalale.

    The door opens and a flashlight beams into the room.

    "Mallory." He whispers.

    I pretend to wake up dazed.

    "Huh?"

    "I'm sorry, did I wake ya?"

    Twisting to look at him, I reply sleepily, "No, you're fine. What's up?"

    I'm praying he continues to stand in the doorway and not walk in any further.

    "Me and your mom heard something- hollerin'- and I just wanted to check around, see if you heard it too. It sounds like it came from close by."

    "I didn't hear anything."

    "Oh, well-" He pauses. "Why you sleeping on the floor, Mal?"

    "Oh, um." Crap. "Well the bed wasn't too comfortable because it's so hot, so I pulled out the mattress from under my bed and slept on that. It's cool on the floor."

    A cold sweat trail trickles down my back. Fingers crossed he falls for my lie.

    "Alright, I'll try turning up the AC before headin' back to bed. I guess your mom was right. It must've been something outside."

    I hold my breath of relief until he leaves.

    "Well, goodnight. Don't let the bed bugs bite."

    The moment the door closes, I collapse on the mattress, staring up at the ceiling. My adrenaline is pumping tonight, so much so I'm not sure I'll be able to fall back asleep.

   "Can I come out?"

   "Not yet," I answer, still fixated on the ceiling. "Not until he goes back in his room."

    A few moments pass with movement from the outside still audible, so we wait until I finally hear a door shut and silence follow. Sitting up, I sigh.

   "You can come out now."

    He comes from under the bed and joins me on the mattress.

   "So what do you need to talk about with me?" I ask, facing him.

    He stands up.

    "Not in here. It would be better if we talked outside without having to be mindful of our volume."

    I hesitate but stand up as well. "Alright, but we have to be discreet about this."

    "Of course."

    It takes me a second to realize he's waiting for me to take the lead, so I do, cautiously opening the door and testing which floorboards would be the soundest bet. It's an arduous process, but we eventually make it to the front door and outside where, now, Xalale takes the lead, guiding me to the dark forest.

    Above us, there's a minimal amount of stars present in the navy blue sky tonight. Each one appears so far away, like tiny periods in the sky- even the moon seems light years away. The night ambiance of late night creatures seems surprisingly eerie in the darkened forest. Tonight is a bit cooler than usual and I can definitely tell the difference.

   We travel a good distance into the woods where I can see glimpses of the meadow where the trailer is nestled. I don't know why we have to be so far out, but I don't bring this up to Xalale, who's ahead of me. He decides we're far enough in and stops in a small clearing.

    His back remains to me for a few moments until he faces me with an unreadable expression tinted with only a slight decipherable look of fatigue.

   Usually, it feels, I'm the one who has to start up the conversation, but tonight it's a change of pace and I don't have to pull it out of him, it just comes.

   "The girl I told you about, Emmony, she's dead because of me."

    I'm taken aback, confused by his blunt statement.

   "What do you mean? How do you-"

   "Because I was the one that killed her. I stabbed her in the chest and watched as she bled to death."

    There are no words to respond to that revelation. Out of all the infinite words in the English language, not one of them can be used in this situation. My face reads it all- of shock and surprise. I don't know why it's surprising to me, though. Xalale has killed people before- I've seen it- but something about killing a childhood friend, a lover, startles me still.

   "I cannot tell you why I did so-" He stops, never once during this meeting my eyes. "I can, but I don't want to. Not yet."

   The adrenaline running through my system can't keep up with this information. I'm still speechless.

   Regardless of whether I have anything to say or not, Xalale continues on.

   "She never provoked me- or rightfully so. She didn't even see me do it, but when I did, she wasn't angry or scared, she was still kind. She was always kind because she didn't know. She didn't know about everything, I never told her everything.

   "And you act like her sometimes. You say the things she would say to me, you have that childlike spirit about you, but then you act so differently from her..."

    He sighs, running his hand through his hair, staring up at the sky obscured by the trees.

   "I never thought about her since I killed her three years ago. I never even said her name since then until today."

   Opening my mouth, I attempt to say something- anything- but no words come out and I close my mouth again, leaving nothing but silence between us.

   Finally, he glances at me, his hair covering his left eye.

   "I killed her mother as well. I choked the life out of her using the very thing I despise."

    The revelations keep coming and I have no response to any of this. Why is he telling me all this anyway?

   "I never told Emmony I killed her mother. Her mother who was almost like a mother to me when I was young. I never told her until the night I killed her and even then she believed in me."

   At this point, I don't know what to think about this Emmony girl. She- from his accounts- sounded trusting and a high-spirited optimist; something of a polar opposite of Xalale.

   "After I killed her, Emmony, I had her remains burned and her ashes scattered in a stream."

   There's no end to this madness!

   He looks away again, to the right where the forest seemed darker somehow. When he says no more on this matter, I take it he's done explaining everything he wanted to tell me and now is my turn to respond. Unlike any other time, though, I feel as though the way I respond to everything he's told me weighs heavily on how everything else plays out.

   So I take a tentative step towards him, taking in a deep breath before releasing it and looking him in the eyes. I really have nothing in mind to say to him- what can you say after someone's told you all this? I decide to go with the truth. When in doubt, tell the truth.

   "I don't know what to say to all this."

   He doesn't look at me nor comments.

   "Why did you tell me all of this? I mean, it just seems so sudden-"

   "Because," His eyes are sharp and distinct as they finally bore into mine. "It seems my thoughts can't remain clear with certain secrets anymore."

   Again, I'm at a lost and I hate it. Someone's finally telling me something of meaning- something from the darkest place of their heart- and I can't give one comforting or assuring word- not one single one.

   Giving me an enigmatic look, he asks, "Does this change your perspective of me in any way?"

   It's a fair question and again I open my mouth to reply but close it again.

    Tilting my head thoughtful, I respond, "In a way, yes, but probably not the way you think." I clarify, "I'm surprised by this, but at the same time I'm not. I don't mean to be cryptic but it's hard to explain. I appreciate your candor, though."

   The expression in his eyes shift, but I can't tell how since his face doesn't reveal what my words have wrought. He looks away again.

   With that, I decide to pose a question myself.

   "Are you tell me this for any explicit reasons?" I press cautiously. "Any...moral reasoning?"

   My question's captured his attention and he looks at me again. I can sense he's waiting for me to continue my point even though I wanted to leave it at that.

   "Were your nightmares pertaining to those events three years ago?"

    "I believe the occurrence was caused by those events, but the dream itself wasn't the exact memory."

    I think for a second, wondering how I can put my thoughts into words that won't come off the wrong way. The real issue I want to bring up burns in the back of my mind. I decide to rock the boat a little, hoping he doesn't take this the wrong way- as he always seems to (no matter how innocent the question). I know the moment his defenses go up, the conversation will end on a rocky note, so I tread cautiously.

   "Maybe this is coming up because- because maybe your conscious is trying to tell you something," I pause to see if my words have stirred any aggression but he remains placid, so I continue a little bolder. "When we have a guilty conscious it usually means that we did something we knew we shouldn't have. Maybe what you're feeling is guilt, possibly?"

   A few moment pass and I'm afraid I've shut him down and no response will come, but he speaks.

   "I have very few regrets in my life."

   He's not looking me in the eyes still, but that's not what's giving him away. It's the way he said that statement that told me he was lying to himself and me.

    "I mean, we all have regrets," I say. "You may not realize how many you actually have until you confront them."

    "And how do you confront your regrets?" I notice his tone is becoming more on the defensive side. I think I might have come off a tad too judgy.

    I shrug, glancing at the ground in thought. "Well, I really don't know. I try not to confront my regrets but they come anyway. I think the big thing is trying to correct the mistakes I've made which created those regrets. I learn to live with myself and if possible, ask for forgiveness."

   "From whom?"

   Looking up, I notice he's watching me with analytical eyes.

   "If it's someone I've wronged then I ask them, but if they don't forgive me or I don't feel like it's enough- like I usually do- then I ask God I suppose. I mean, in the end, He's the one who's gonna judge us when we die, so why not ask forgiveness from Him."

   His eyes never waver from mine.

   "And you find peace in the end?"

   "Usually, but that doesn't mean it won't ever creep back into my thoughts again. But when it does, it's not as painful."

   Glancing up at the sky, he doesn't respond, but when he does it's not about the recent topic.

   "I'm sorry for bringing you out here, but thank you for doing so anyways."

   "No problem. Besides, it's beautiful out here tonight. A little chilly, but still enjoyable."

   I stare up at the night sky as well for a few moments, entranced by the natural beauty around us. I'm enjoying this feeling of freedom when I look away from the sky, over at him.

   "Wanna race back to the house?"

    It's either because of the night air or my frazzled mind that I offer this mischievous challenge with a smirk on my face, but either way, I do so.

   He looks at me dubiously, but I try to persuade him.

   "Look, we're both already sweaty so what does it matter? We'll just take showers in the morning. What do you say? Just to the edge of the meadow?"

   My eyes are pleading and eventually, he sighs, but I detect just the ghostly trace of a smile.

   "Awesome," I beam.

    We take our marks and I count down from three. I already know he's going to win, but it'll be fun either way.

   "Three...two...one...go!"

    We take off towards the meadow neck and neck, but like I predicted, Xalale takes the lead leaving me in the dust, but I don't care. The wind generated by this feels wonder against my skin and the adrenaline pumping through my system is euphoric in a sense. My mind sharpens yet becomes free of cluttering thoughts.

   I stumble to a stop at the edge of the meadow where Xalale is already there, not looking too worn out, unlike me.

   "How-" I wheeze, already regretting this decision. "How do- how do you have such high stamina?"

   "I don't, I just disguise it better."

   "Lucky." I tease.

   After calming down, the awe-inspiring sensation has run its course through my system and now I'm feeling very weary. I'm probably a bit too reckless sneaking us back into the house, but the thickening fog creeping in my head clouds my judgment.

   We do safely make it back to my room, where we promptly crash and very quickly fade into dreams- at least I do. In fact, the dream occurring in my sleep is familiar to me though I never remember such a dream like it before, yet I know what it is.

    In my dream, I'm in a forest- a lushly wooded forest. The pine trees mighty and tall, so grand in height they remind me of the giant sycamores my father took me to see once when I was still really little and everything seemed gigantic. I'm standing in this forest, but not observing the bustling wildlife of birds chirping every which way or the peaceful wind casually breezing by with time to spare. Instead, I stare up at the phenomenon that is the sky. The sky so bright it appears a radiate white that causes me to squint and shade my eyes if I want to look at it. It reminds me somewhat of a sky that an artist would portray; no sun yet complete heavenly brightness.

   Then, I hear them. I hear them before I see them noisily squawk by. Three large, black birds that could pass for either ravens or crows hastily dart across the sky, in stark contrast to the whitish sky. I continue to stare, squinting at them flapping rapidly by. As I stare, my eye catches on something drifting gently with the breeze, twirling like an autumn leaf towards me and the forest floor. It's a long, lazy way down, but it gets closer and closer, becoming more detailed every second. Finally, within arms reach, I attempt to snatch the feather from the air but it's still not quite close enough. So I stand on my tippy-toes, stretching higher and higher, desperate to snag the feather in my fingers.

    Close, close, almost there-

    With one finally stretch and a helpful breeze, the feather is mine.