Stolen Identity: Mute Heiress

Callan lay in bed, his arms tucked beneath the sheets, his brow furrowed in deep sleep. And then his legs kicked a little under the covers. His face twisted as a whimper escaped his lips.

Another one of his nightmares had come again. He was a little boy once again.

He sat on the living room floor, his back was pressed against the wall and his knees were pulled up to his chest. He was shaking.

The room smelled like beer and burnt food. The TV was on, but he wasn't watching it.

The man he first knew as his father stood in the middle of the room, tall and loud. He was yelling, but the words didn't make sense. His face was red. His breath was heavy. A green bottle was in his hand.

"Stupid boy!" the man barked, raising his voice.

Callan flinched. His arms wrapped tighter around his knees.

"I said, where's my damn lighter?!"

"I-I don't know," little Callan whispered, knowing what would come next.

The man roared, and in a second, the bottle was thrown against the wall. It broke into sharp pieces. Callan covered his ears. Then came the heavy footsteps followed by a slap.

Callan cried out in pain, covering his head.

Then, the kitchen door opened fast and his pregnant mother hurried into the room. "Stop it! You have to stop! His teacher is asking questions again!"

The man turned to her, his chest heaving. "What?" He growled.

"She asked me why Callan had bruises! If you keep hitting him, they'll call the police! We don't need that sort of trouble."

Just as the words left her lips he slapped her. As she fell back on the floor, the man stepped forward. He was shouting now and kicking her angrily.

"You both are useless to me," he spat angrily, while she cried out in pain, holding her big abdomen protectively.

"Go to your room, Callan. Go to your room and lock the door," she cried out weakly.

Seeing that his mother and the baby were in danger, Callan didn't wait. He ran out of the living room, up the stairs.

His cheeks were wet with tears. His heart thumped fast as he tried to figure out what to do.

When he reached the top of the stairs, he ran to the bathroom and grabbed a big bowl of water and poured some of his mother's body wash inside. His hands shook as he splashed some on the stairs.

Then he stood at the top, looking down. "Bully!" he shouted, loud and angry though there was a little tremor in his voice. "Why don't you fight me instead? Or can you only beat women, you sissy?"

"Callan, no!" The woman cried, but the man stomped to the stairs, angry.

He was too angry to notice the water glistening on the stairs or care about the wetness he could feel.

Once he got to the top of the stairs, before he could reach for Callan, Callan splashed the rest of the water in his face, causing soap to get into his eyes.

As he raged angrily and blindly tried to grab Callan, Callan pushed him and then his foot slipped.

He fell down the stairs with a crack as the back of his head hit the edge of the stairs. His body rolled, lifeless, down to the floor.

Callan stood there, frozen. His eyes were big. He didn't blink as he watched the blood form a red pool at the base of the stairs while the woman let out an ear piercing shriek.

Back in real life, Callan's chest rose and fell fast as his legs kicked under the blanket.

He was shivering and sweating simultaneously. His face was soaked with sweat mixed with tears, and his pillow was damp.

His phone, lying on the nightstand, began to buzz with a call from his father. It lit up the dark room in little flashes.

It buzzed again. And again. But Callan was too lost in his nightmare to hear it.

In the next room, Emily's phone lit up too as it rang out.

She blinked and rubbed her eyes, wondering who was calling her at that time of the night.

She sat up when she picked up her phone and saw it was her godfather, Callan's Dad.

"Uncle Hunter?" she said, her voice sleepy.

"Hello, peach," his deep voice said. "I'm sorry to wake you. I've been trying to reach Cal. It's urgent. Is he home?"

Emily sat up quickly, already awake now. "Yes. He's home. Is everything alright?"

"Everything is fine. Could you go check on him for me? He's not answering, and I really need to speak to him."

Emily opened her mouth to tell him that Callan had likely taken sleeping pills and it'd be best to reach him in the day. But then she stopped. She had promised Callan that she wouldn't say a word to his parents.

"I'll go get him," she said instead. "I'll call you back," she told him, then ended the call.

She got out of bed and hurried to Callan's room. She knocked and when there was no response she opened the door and stepped in, her eyes adjusting to the darkness.

She turned on the light, and then she saw him in the same position like the night before. He was crying in his sleep.

His shirt was soaked in sweat. His lips were trembling and his whole body was shaking.

"Oh my God," Emily gasped as she ran to the bed and sat on the edge.

"Callan," she said softly, placing her hands on his arms. "Callan, wake up."

He didn't move.

She shook him a little harder. "Wake up, Callan! It's okay. You're dreaming. Wake up, please."

Still no response.

"Callan!" she said louder, shaking him harder. "It's not real. Wake up. I'm here."

Finally, his eyes flew open.

He sat up fast, breathing like he had just run a race. His eyes were wild and confused. He looked around the room like he didn't know where he was.

"Callan," Emily said again, gently. "It's me. You're okay. It was just a dream."

Before he could say anything, she wrapped her arms around him. She hugged him tight, her cheek against his wet shirt.

"I don't know what's haunting you," she whispered. "If you don't want to tell me about it, it's fine. But don't push me away. Just let me comfort you."

Callan's arms didn't move at first. Then slowly, he pulled back.

"I'm all sweaty," he muttered without meeting her gaze. "I need to shower."

He stood up, picked up some clothes from a drawer and walked to the bathroom without looking at her.

Emily watched him go, her heart aching for him as she wondered what the problem was. What could be tormenting him for so long?

When he came back, he looked clean, but his face was tired and pale.

He stopped in the doorway. "Why were you in my room? Did I disturb your sleep?" He asked with a frown wondering if he had yelled or cried out in his sleep.

"Your dad called me. He said he needed to talk to you and it was urgent."

Callan frowned and looked at the clock. "It's the middle of the night."

"He said it was important."

Callan sighed and walked to the nightstand to pick up his phone. "Thanks for waking me."

"Is that my cue to leave?" She asked, watching him.

"I need to call my Dad…"

"I'll wait," Emily said, holding his gaze.

"You should rest," Callan said. "You've got work at the hospital."

"I don't have to resume until noon," she said softly.

Callan stared at her, then gave up. "When did you become so obstinate?" he said under his breath and she flashed him a sweet smile.

"Being obstinate seems to be the only thing that works where you're concerned. I should have adopted this behavior earlier," she said, and he shook his head as he walked out of the room, not wanting to be anywhere near a bed with Emily.

Emily followed him out of the room. She would wait for him. For as long as he needed to open up to her about the demons that haunted him.

Callan dialed his father's number as he walked into the living room, and the call connected almost immediately.

"I'm sorry to disturb your sleep, son…"

"If it wasn't important you wouldn't have. Is everything okay? Is mom okay?" Callan asked, concerned by his father's tone.

"I want you to come down to Ludus at once. It's important. I need to talk to you in person," he said, and Callan frowned.

"Ludus? Is everything okay? What do I need to fly all the way to Ludus to hear? You're not ill, are you?"

"I'm fine. Everyone is perfectly okay. We'd fly down to Husla if we could, but it's best you come down to Ludus. We got information about your biological parents," he said, and Callan's heart skipped a beat.

Did Jamal say anything to them? Did they find out he was searching for his mother?

"Dad…"

"I already called Dennis to get the jet ready. I've spoken with your driver as well. He will be there to pick you up soon. Get all the rest you need in the jet…"

"What about Emily? I can't possibly leave her alone here," he said, glancing at Emily, who was watching him with a frown as she wondered what was going on.

"She will be fine. Don't worry about her," his father said before hanging up.