Though Jamie fell asleep quickly, his sleep was not a peaceful one. He hadn't expected it to be, and he wasn't disappointed. Unfortunately for him, he couldn't seem to wake up once the dream had started. The dream itself was little more than a jumble of memories, fighting for attention, like school kids around a charity cake sale in the yard at lunch break. Though he barely twitched in his sleep, giving Lilly no reason to worry about what was passing through his head, the images that crashed through his mind like a rioting crowd were enough to have put him in a state similar to earlier when he decided it would be a good idea to try and kill Lilly.
Sam's stupid grin filled his mind's eye, each one that he could remember. The first one to surface was the one he had flashed Jamie as he watched Reshia blow some poor guy's head off in the mirrored box. He felt sick, watching the sport, but his brother enjoyed it. He had never understood it.
"I wanna train, Jamie! I gotta be down there one day." Sam's words came back to him as they had walked away from the Bloodbox.
"No, Sam. I don't know how you managed to get me to take you tonight, but you are definitely not going to compete!" Jamie frowned at his brother. Sam didn't seem to take Jamie's words in.
"I have to do that some day. God, can you imagine the adrenaline rush that must give you?" Sam was practically bouncing as they made their way home.
"Go sky diving if you want an adrenaline rush." Jamie looked at his watch. "Ugh. You have to be quiet when we get back. Don't wake mum up. She'll flay me alive." Sam nodded and beamed at his older brother.
"Thanks, Jamie." He said, his voice lowering as they approached their house. Both of them fell silent as Jamie carefully unlocked the door letting them both in quietly. He pulled out his phone and pushed a button. The screen lit up, giving them both a dim light to see by so they didn't trip and wake their mother up.
The memory faded and Jamie turned over in his sleep, facing away from Lilly. She glanced up at his movement, but said nothing. He wasn't snoring any more, but his chest rose and fell in the even rhythm of sleep and she stared blankly at his back. His tanned skin poked out from under the duvet where it fell away, his arm over the duvet, crossed over his chest almost protectively.
Occasionally, he would shift position a little; trying to stay comfortable on the bed he had promised her was not comfortable at all. When he did, the muscles in his back would flex, his lightly browned skin rippling slightly. It was almost mesmerising. As she gazed at his sleeping figure, she noticed a small tattoo on his left shoulder blade. A kanji symbol. She wondered what it meant. She would have to ask, when he woke up.
"Jamie!" Sam's voice pierced through his sleep.
"What?" he mumbled, rolling over and pulling the covers over his head.
"You're supposed to be running the gym. You need to get up." Sam said, moving away towards the door. "Get up!" he shouted, throwing a sneaker at his brother. The shoe landed on the bed, but didn't actually hit Jamie. Sam had always had a good aim.
"Urgh, go away," he groaned, throwing the shoe back. Sam ducked and it missed him. He laughed.
"Get up and I will."
"You open up for me. I'll be down in a bit."
"By a bit you mean five hours." Sam was right, but Jamie turned over and pulled the cover down enough to glare at his brother. "C'mon. Mum wants you to ‘show responsibility' before she hands over the keys to you officially." He walked back over to the bed and pulled the covers off. The rush of cold air made Jamie recoil and glower again. He swung his legs out of the bed and sat up.
"You're an ass," he told Sam, who nodded and smiled, walking off.
This memory disappeared, too, washed away with guilt. He loved Sam dearly, but he had never really shown it. After their mother had passed away, he had become more introverted, and generally let Sam do his own thing. This, he had discovered too late, had not been a good idea. The flash of blood and the quiet thud of Sam's body hitting the ground in the Bloodbox reverberated in his mind the way the sound of the gun shot had ricocheted off the mirrored walls of the box.
His eyes snapped open, though he didn't see his living room, he saw the death hanging over the box as the audience members had filtered away. He had stared down at the broken body of his little brother for long, long minutes before the box's assistants had taken him away to the morgue. He felt emptier now than he had looking down at his brother's warm body on the table.
Blinking, he realised the room was still dark. He picked up his watch from the coffee table and looked at the time. Six in the morning. He had slept right through, but still he felt tired. Stupid brain can't even shut up when I'm asleep, he grumbled in his mind. He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling for a moment, stretching the ache out of his muscles from the uncomfortable mattress. It took him a few seconds to remember why he was on the sofa bed and not his own bed.
When he realised, he looked at the TV. It had been turned off. Pushing himself up, Jamie looked around for Lilly. She was nowhere to be found, and a quick search of the house revealed nothing of her whereabouts. Guess she really couldn't stay, then, he sighed and trudged up to the bathroom.