Volume 1

Volume 1.

I.

When she came into school that Monday, Dawn Edward's heart was taken and squeezed in the fist of reality -- only to have it shattered. She watched as the pieces scattered pathetically across the dull, gray carpet of her senior class English teacher's classroom. Not Mr. Smith.. Not Frankenstein, not her sweet and beautiful English teacher, Johnny. This just couldn't be. Quickly, she cupped her hands over her mouth to keep from shrieking out loud and making a complete fool of herself in front of her fellow class-men. A few of the drama queens in the class had already begun to tear up, or cry into their arms while Dawn stared with wide eyes at Miss King, whom looked completely in her own state of shock. But not as greatly shocked as Dawn was. A few of her class-men's eyes drifted to her-- everyone knew Dawn had a crush on Mr. Smith. She was made fun of constantly for it, but it never really got to her too much. It was a running joke. For the students and the teachers. 
Her wide blue eyes drifted to the few drawings she had made Mr. Smith over the school year. He had hung them with magnets on the corner of the chalkboard that was closest to his desk. (He would have put them away for safe keeping, had she not demanded he hung them for show). It wasn't abnormal for her to stay after class with him, and help with grading papers, or clean off his chalkboard; sometimes she would just stay to talk to him. He was a wonderful listener, and a wonderful advice-giver. 

The one glance at his teacher's desk was enough to send her over the edge, and all at once she felt the warm and salty tears began to flow.. Pathetically, she covered her face with her hands to try and hide herself away from all the eyes but it was no use. Blood was rushing to her cheeks.. it was roaring in her ears. Sobbing noises stifled from her, and before she could have been aware of it, she was trembling terribly. A hand was placed on her shoulder, making her flinch gently -- but by the smell of the form next to her, she realized that it was the vice principle, Sonja King. (It was a well known fact that the principle always smelled of honeysuckle and mint, probably from the several bowls of potpourri she kept in her office). Her voice whispered gently into Dawn's ear, but at first the girl couldn't make out the words. Muffled sounds at first.. As distant as the faint whispers that were being exchanged around the classroom. Then a warm voice, whispering to her. "Dawn, honey, would you like to go to the nurse and gather yourself? Are you going to be ill? Come on, come to my room. I don't have a meeting this period, come on dear."
Dawn shook her head, rising to her feet and grabbing her book bag, throwing it carelessly onto her right  shoulder and following Miss King out of the room. Once she was away from the eyes, she could speak at last though it was extremely muffled and tear filled. Quickly, she halted on her toes. "I'd like to go-- hh-home." She stuttered gently over her words, but Sonja nodded and guided her to the nurse's office where she watched helplessly as the poor girl wept into the phone. Dawn felt the eyes burning sympathetically into the back of her head, and her cheeks got hot with her own sadness and rage.. It was always an unpleasant feeling, the feeling of people's eyes stuck on you as if you were some kind of freak.

She had gone home early, but had joined a group of students in their trip to the hospital in east Maine. EMMC. She was in a soft gray pea coat, and a pair of faded out jeans that fitted her closely. Her hair was braided, but it looked like it had been done quickly -- to make herself look presentable. She merely had to look at the depth of Sarah Bracknell's face, the face of Johnny's beloved, before she burst into tears -- and a nurse that had walked up, grabbed her shoulder and asked her to leave. Sarah held an arm around Dawn's shoulders protectively, and asked the nurse to be patient with her, that she'd come around but Dawn only protested. "I don't want to stay." She said, through a tear-choked voice. Dawn  rushed out of the waiting room in a hurry, and knocked over something or other but she didn't look back or fix it; just kept going. Just keep moving, don't faint. Keep moving. 
The next and last time Sarah had seen Dawn Edwards that day, and for a further week was when she glanced out the window of the hospital. She crossed her arms over her chest with a sympathetic sigh, watching the girl hugging her knees and crying outside in the chilly October air. Quickly she moved away from the window, sitting back down next to Herb and Vera Smith. Tears came and went, and Vera's lips moved rapidly as she read her Bible. 

Five years passed since Johnny Smith was admitted to the hospital, and since Dawn Edwards wept over her beloved English teacher.

II.

Dawn Edwards had graduated high school, without a chance to thank Johnny Smith, her favorite teacher-- though she did include his name in her speech. She visited him at the hospital once or twice, but it wasn't a normal thing for a student to visit a teacher at the hospital, and eventually she stopped seeing Johnny Smith. She moved on with her life. 
She went to college and got her bachelor's degree, majoring in English. She dated a few men in her college years, but found herself thinking over and over again without fail that the entire male population was made up of slobbering pigs, obsessed only with their dicks, and how many skirts they could yank down. The girl who graduated with honor's at the top of her class was doing fairly well by the time Johnny Smith woke up from his five year coma-- waking to the realization that he had lost almost everything he had held dear. 
His lover, Sarah Bracknell had married and was now Sarah Hazlett, and his job at Cleaves Mills was also disposed of. He had been easily replaceable, the world was full of unemployed English teachers. Many months of his therapy passed, along with many of his own tears and screams. 

It had been five years and eight months until he had again seen Dawn Edwards, but she still arrived just the same. When she did, the memory of her was a haze...

"Johnny, you have a visitor." Marie Michaud, whom was John Smith's nurse, said quietly to him. He liked Marie, she was always so sweet to him. He predicted, some months back, that her boy, Mark's eye surgery would be a success. It turned out he had been right, but Maries had never treated him the same since. No one ever did. She smiled slightly, as if to say through silence that he should probably see this anonymous person, whom had come to see him. As if a secretary telling her boss with her eyes, "You should probably take this call." Johnny moved his eyes towards the door, before he took in a breath and merely nodded carelessly. It was a good day, pain wise. He hardly felt a thing, and in his own opinion he didn't look too dead for comfort. 
"Sure, sure." he said quietly against his sore throat, combing a hand through his thick brown mane, which had seemed to grow straight up off his head during his many years of sleep. Marie nodded with a smile, whilst she moved over to the door marked 23 of the Weizak Clinic. 
With the nod of her head, she exchanged places with a pale, golden-blond haired girl in room number 23. She was a normal height, probably about five feet, five inches at best, of course not adding the given inches from her shoes, but she certainly was not as tall as Johnny was. She had large, kind blue eyes and wore a casual black t-shirt with a pair of form-fitting jeans. High heels clicked on the floor as she made her way towards him, though stopping a few feet away from his bedside. In her hands, she clutched a little red hand bag, which matched her shoes and lipstick. She held the bag in front of her, like a barricade. A nervous smile curved onto her mouth, and she let out an awkward little giggle before looking quickly and bashfully down at her shoes. After a moment of gathering herself, her eyes met with his.

Her face was somewhat familiar, but through a haze of forget.. And perhaps a haze of maturity. If he did know her, he was almost certain she didn't look the same.  For this, he said nothing. Only looked at this girl before him -- she couldn't be older than twenty three, perhaps twenty four. She had milky, perfect skin and nervous hands as she looked down at him. 
"Hello, Mr. Smith." Her voice chimed out tenderly, and a smile curved over her white teeth. Silence crossed the room as he tried to place this voice.. Familiar, yes, but different. He was certain he had never heard a voice that chimmed so, like ringing bells.The silence caused a quick throat-clearing from her and she nodded slowly. "You probably don't remember me too well, I guess you don't have reason to." A quick giggle after these words, to try to lighten the tension that was screaming off of her. John tried to smile slightly, to ease her, but still the mental pep talk she had been giving herself ever since she drove up to the Clinic never ceased.
"You're familiar, dear, but do forgive me, I --"
Quickly, the woman nodded and shrugged. "It's okay, I wasn't expecting -- Well, I was one of your students, um, Dawn Edwards. I used to stay after class almost every day, and draw for you, crazy things like that." Her cheeks gained a rosy color, and quickly a memory clicked in his mind. This sudden realization mixed with the sudden shock that settled in him. His eyes widened slightly, and with a quick feeling that his jaw was parting and dropping he pulled it back up and stared at her. A brief look up and down, as if to register that this was the same young girl that he taught at Cleaves Mills High School. Dawn Edwards? No.. This couldn't be. Five years couldn't do this to someone like her. Little Dawn, she was always so small and fragile looking-- now a grown woman.
"Dawn Edwards?" He asked, disbelievingly. She nodded in return, smiling. Of course, it made sense. She had Dawn's face, Dawn's eyes.. But now they were only older, more mature. She had always been a pretty girl, but she had grown to be exceedingly beautiful. He smiled as best possible through the shock, 
"Well, I -- Hello Miss Edwards." he said quietly, eyes still uncontrollably wider than usual. Dawn grinned, pleased that he remembered her at all. An excited glint began to glitter in her deep doe eye'd hues. Even her tone rose a bit.
"Hello there! I um, I saw in the papers about you.. I mean, I saw you in the papers. I guess I had to see for myself, uh," Quickly she looked around, nervously still. If someone would have come up from behind her and bumped her, she would have shot through the roof. Again, she looked at him and grinned, shrugging limply.
"You're awake."
Briefly, Johnny's lightened expression lowered to something darker. 
He swallowed hard before nodding his head, without words. A silence again crossed the room awkwardly, and with a deep breath he quirked an eyebrow upward, nodding as if wanting to change the subject -- but keeping on it, because it was the only one that made sense.
"It has been a while, my dear. How are you?" 
Dawn grinned, blushing slightly as she shrugged. "Me? Well I'm alright.. I graduated from Cleaves, and went to college, got my bachelor's degree. I might go back and get my master's, but I'm not sure yet.." she trailed off, but he was quick to keep the conversation going.
"Where did you graduate from?"
She smiled a sweet smile, as if content with his interest. "Um, New York University.. I transferred from Boston. I majored in English, and I got my Teacher's license, but I don't think I'm going to use it.. Teaching isn't really my thing."
Envy shot through him, like a needle filled with morphine. A chance to do what he wanted to so greatly, and she threw it away like it was nothing. Very brief fury mixed with this envy, but he pushed it away and shrugged, "Well, it's not for everyone." 
She nodded her head, agreeing. Before another silence crossed the room, he questioned again. He didn't think he could go through another awkward silence between them with keeping the little bit of sanity he had left. "Are you working now?"
She shrugged again, glancing around almost uncomfortably. "Yeah, I mean I go from here to there.. Right now, I'm doing some little modeling gigs, but I don't stay at one job for very long. I guess I don't know what I want to do yet. Crazy, right? I graduated college and I still don't know what I like.. Pathetic, I guess." She giggled quietly, shaking her head at herself. He smiled too at this, only sightly. 
"Well, it's not all that pathetic. It happens to a lot of people, I was lucky.." He paused before mumbling under his breath in repeat, "I was lucky.."
A gentle pause crossed the room, and her bright blue eyes eyed his form which was covered under the creamy white Clinic sheets. His feet rested exactly at the foot board, because he was so tall. His hands rested comfortably across his chest, and his eyes which had been so bright were even now dying slightly in their light. She smiled, shrugging before she looked down at her feet-- only this time, she didn't look up again when she spoke to him.
"So, how are you?" The words were almost squeaked out of her vocal chords, as if she already knew what the answer's tone would be in. 
"Well, I'm stuck in this hospital, and have been for about five years now.. My legs are just about useless, and everything's pretty much gone from my life. I suppose I wouldn't say things are going well--" He looked over at her, only to be taken back by the quick dulling of the brightness in her eyes, and the way she had begun to slouch over. As if she had been struck.
Quickly, he tried to smile. "But things aren't going too bad, either.. They could be worse," he nodded, as if to reassure himself that this were true. "Much worse."
The pained look in her hues still did not fade, though it subsided. Her mouth parted, as if about to speak until a loud few beeps came from her bag and silenced her. Checking her pager, she looked back at him apologetically, "I'm sorry I.. I have to be going."
Johnny shook his head, quite relieved at that. "Don't worry, Dawn."
Her words struck him odd then, 
"Would you mind if I came back?" she asked, smiling slightly. This smile, which suggested ever so hopefully that their next meeting would be of so much more ease. With a shrug, and a puzzled look about him he answered with a brief, quiet little "Sure."
She grinned, the light returning then to her eyes as she straightened up her posture. "Great.. Well, goodbye." She hurried out before he could muster a returning goodbye. A deep sigh was taken with her leaving, but before he could contemplate what exactly just had happened, the tiredness that had been hiding away during his reuniting of the student that had gone from his mind, for his whole five years of sleep, swooped down to consume him. He fell into the arms of this sleep gracefully; and without fuss.

Dawn Edwards had been partially right. Their next meeting, while it was brief, was much more at ease than their first. There was much more general laughter involved, along with of course the few awkward silences that were inevitable. They hadn't spoken too much, but when they did it hadn't been as awkward as their last meeting -- not as negative, and tentative, though the nervousness still hinted there. By that time, Johnny was out of his bed and on crutches, limping around and trying to regain his legs again as Sam Weizak had predicted. It was a painful process that left him exhausted, but he stuck it out to speak with the young woman. The conversation was a bit more interesting, but though Johnny would admit to other's, like Marie and Dr. Weizak, it wasn't much. 
What did they really have to talk about, anyway? Precisely. Not much.
Dawn began to visit John regularly, and though it was against many things in his mental Code of Conduct to get so close to someone whom he had formerly taught -- he had no one else to get close to. Friendship between them had come easily, as it had come silently and out of no where. But such a normal action that was on friendship's part, hadn't it usually come out of no where, easily? No. It wasn't always easy, but it did come out of no where. Conversations came easily. Nervousness, though it still made its appearance here and there, was quite rare between them in time. They smiled, and she laughed (though more often than he, for it seemed laughter was very rare from him since the accident.)

Johnny's mother's death came very suddenly, on a day that he believed could not have gotten any more horrid. What a terrible day it was -- first the reporters and their intrusive questions. He could still feel the horrid eyes stuck on him, seeing him as the freak and monster he was. "Hey, he deserved it. Don't feel bad, just don't touch me Johnny, huh?" 
Then his mother's stroke, followed by her death. He didn't remember too much about that night-- only his mother's half-snarling face and her hand hooked into a shocked claw. Only weeping pathetically into the soft sweater of the shoulder, of the golden-blond haired girl. Only that she held him closely, and he felt her hand trail with such tenderness up and down his back, and once in a while through his hair whilst he shed his mourning tears and tried not to scream. Only that he felt soothing comfort from her that night; that comfort that caused for uneasiness between them for the next few days, which eventually faded again with time.
Sooner than later, Johnny moved from the Clinic, and in with his father -- where his belongings from his apartment in Cleaves Mills had already been moved -- to recuperate. Still the woman visited him regularly, so that he didn't feel alone.. So that she didn't feel alone.  Often she would fall asleep there, and would be gone by the time he woke the next morning, only to be back that night or the night after. He never questioned this, and she never mentioned it. They would sit with each other for hours on end, just talking, or just furthermore enjoying each other's company. At times, they watched TV or listened to the radio, or sometimes they'd just sit in the quiet-- comforted only by the presence of the other. Nightmares were a common topic between them, or even her just speaking about little things that happened whilst he was asleep for all those years. Like Janis Joplin's death, and the end of Vietnam. He had already read about these things, in the hospital from magazines that his father gave him, but she explained them deeper, more personally. Either way, their friendship was fair. There were few times when she would seem to grow too close to him, and the air would be filled with awkwardness and nervousness -- but other times, things were content between them. 

Content, that is, until the vision...

III.

Johnny sighed quietly, sinking into the couch next to Dawn and holding a glass of water firmly within one hand, and a few pills in the other. His pale blue eyes held on the television screen, before with a quick and fluid motion he popped the pills into his mouth and drank them down. Her voice chimed into his ears, causing his head to turn then away from the screen and focus on her.
"Those Castle Rock murders are such terrible thing.. You know, some people are just bat-s**t." She said quietly, sipping at the tea cup which was warm within her grasp. 
Slowly he looked away from her and back at the screen, only nodding in agreement. "How long have they been going on?"
"About three years, I guess. Maybe three and a half." She said quietly, shrugging and looking down into her tea before she closed her eyes and leaned her cheek against the back of the couch, careful not to get too tired. John nodded, sighing quietly at the new's reporter spoke to him through the television. 
"How sad.." He mumbled, under his breath. 
A silence crossed the room for a few more moments before Dawn lifted her head and yawned, before looking down at her watch. "I'm going to be late."
Catching his attention, John looked up at her as she stood and stretched her tired body, yawning. "Late?" he said quietly, clearly puzzled. 
She looked down at him and smiled slightly, shrugging. "I'm going on a date with this guy.. I told him I'd be there at seven thirty, and it's seven ten."
"A date?" Johnny asked. Her explanation hadn't been enough.
Dawn looked down at him, before she nodded. "Yes, a date. You know, man and woman going out.. A date." She exited the room only to dump the last bit of her remaining tea down the drain, and rinse out the cup to place the glass in the sink to set until washed -- either by Herb, Johnny, or herself. When she came back, he was still looking at her.
"..What?" she asked quietly, grabbing her coat from the coat hooks.
"You didn't tell me you were seeing someone." he mused, quirking an eyebrow upward. 
"Yeah well, I didn't really know myself." She pulled her coat on over her arms, and buttoned up the front before walking back to Johnny and sitting on the arm of the couch beside him, nudging him gently with her arm. "Do you have to know everything I do, Frankenstein?"
He chuckled quietly, shaking his head. "Of course not.. I'm just worried is all, I guess these murders have me all in a fuss." He nudged her back, a friendly gesture. 
She would giggle, before nodding, "Well, don't be worried about me.. He's not a killer, I promise. I'll be alright," She hugged him around his neck very gently -- she was always so gentle. He wrapped an arm around her briefly, until the vision struck him and made him flinch and grip onto her coat uncontrollably.
She hesitated, tensing. "J--Johnny?" A gentle pull, but she couldn't budge from his hold. "Johnny!"
No use-- her words faded from his hearing. He froze up, eyes wide as the images flooded into his mind and claimed him; snatched him from reality. 

Burning,. Somethings burning. A screaming in the distance, but it's muffled.. Everything's black.. 
He opened his eyes, everything around him is burning. Someones screaming.. Someones screaming. Who?
He looked around him wildly, it was so hot! Everything, engulfed and claimed by flickering flames. Quickly, he tried to move-- to get to the source of the screams, but a seat belt held him in his place. His heart began to slam hard against his chest now, beating faster and faster as he realized where he was with the sense of complete horror. 
A car. 
"No," he yelled, above the flames. A memory, this was him in the car crash -- the accident that sent him away for five years, surely that's what it was. But was someone really screaming? Was the car inflamed so? No.. He thought he had gone out the windshield. 
He began to wrestle with the strap that held him there, captive, but quit his struggled and called out, "HELP ME! SOME ONE, PLEASE!" A shriek came in reply to him, a horrified shriek filled with pain, but no one could hear him over the flames. 
His own memory, his own experience, how could this tie in with Dawn? Why did it seem so distant from him? 
He looked around wildly, and again began to try and free himself, trying to kick out the windshield, or the door, but failing. He began to slam against a door as hard as he could, and still -- nothing. He could feel the flames lapping at his flesh, hear them hiss and crack at him to threaten him. But he wasn't burning.
Another loud, panicked shriek rang out; he looked around wildly for it, eyes wide and breaths quick, though the smoke burned his throat. 
Suddenly, his heart paused beating. It sank in his chest, and his fights with the seat belt became more and more animalistic as he let out a panicked yell.
Strapped, imprisoned by a seat belt in the back seat of the burning car, was Dawn Edwards. 
This was not his memory at all, only a vision. It could not be.
Smoke claimed his voice, and he could no longer speak nor yell -- eyes wide, and feral as he ripped and tore at the strap that held him still. She couldn't hear him, she didn't react. Only fought with her own belt, clawed at the windows and sobbed as the flames burned her. Someone else now, he saw, was in the front seat next to him. A young lady, her face red with gore and singed flesh- her hair burnt off in patches, and her skin blistering from the flames. She was already dead. Blood was oozing from her wide eyes, which had rolled in her head to expose the whites. No one could save Dawn. 
This couldn't be. No, no it couldn't be. What day was it? What time was it? He didn't know, the radio of the car had stopped functioning with the flames that burned it. It was in the dead zone. 
Sweat poured off of his skin, his heart raced in his chest and his limbs trembled, and suddenly he was forced to be still and watch as the golden-blond haired girl kept at her fight, fighting to survive this, but failing all the same. Suddenly she cried out his name, and slammed her fist against the window-- but with no prevail. 
The smoke drifted into her lungs, and she coughed violently until she fought no more-- the flames consumed her life, and cut her off from the world.

He had not been forced to watch as the flames ate away at her flesh, the way they had the other girl. The vision began to fade, and eventually he was in the room again with her-- her eyes wide with horror. He could feel that the sweat hadn't just been in the vision, and quickly he pulled away from her, distanced himself followed by some shocked deep breaths.. The episode had left him breathless; and his hairline had grown damp with his own sweat, from the flames that even still he could feel lapping at his skin. 
His eyes were wide, and his breathing was quick but deep -- he looked over at her apologetically, but she seemed just as shocked as he was. She stood very still, and her eyes were wide, like a deer in front of the headlights of a threatening car. For a long moment that seemed like forever, the two stood there as so, neither completely aware of what exactly just happened. 
At last, Johnny let out a shaky breath and regained his senses. After he swallowed hard, he looked up at her and opened his mouth as if to speak -- though not a word came from him, only a quiet little stifled noise that resulted from the shock he had felt during the vision. "Dawn, I--" He paused, choking slightly on his words.
"I'm sorry I.. Well, I--"
He couldn't speak anymore. Both grew silent while she again stood up straight and took a deep breath. Also opening her mouth to speak, she found that she couldn't find her voice right away. 
"It's.. It's okay Johnny. I have to go,"
"No, wait.. I," Before he could fully object, she had disappeared through the front door, closing it behind her. Another large, shaken breath flowed out of his chest and he looked down at his feet -- though he found his hands were still trembling gently. 
It wouldn't happen tonight.. That he knew, not tonight. She was in different clothing, and she was with a woman. A friend, maybe. That didn't stop him from worrying.