I woke up to a familiar feeling—fear. My heart pounded against my ribs, my breath caught somewhere between gasps and sobs. I'd been having these dreams for three years now, and they were only getting worse. The darkness, the running, the feeling of being chased—it was all so vivid in the moment. But the moment I woke up, the edges blurred. The scenes slipped away like smoke through my fingers. I barely remembered the details. But the feeling—the dread, the weight pressing down on my chest—that always stayed.
I sat up in bed, legs tangled in the sheets. Relief, cold and shallow, washed over me. I swung my legs over the edge and planted my feet firmly on the floor. The cool boards grounded me just enough to make the world feel real again.
Still shaky, I stood up and started toward the bathroom. My eyes locked on the door, but my feet had other plans. I hadn't noticed my left foot was still caught in the sheets. It yanked backward, hard. I stumbled, arms flailing, trying to regain my balance—but it was no use. My body twisted awkwardly, weight thrown off. I guess that's one of the cons of having only one arm.
I crashed to the floor, landing on my left side. Pain burst from the familiar ache in my stump, radiating outward like a lightning strike. "I'm okay," I muttered quickly, scrambling to my feet—even though no one had asked.
Still wincing, I made it to the bathroom and flipped on the light. The mirror above the sink greeted me with a groggy reflection: tangled curls, sleep-heavy eyes, and a faint red mark blooming on my cheek from the fall. I gave myself a lopsided grin.
"How you doing, beautiful?" I whispered, winking at my reflection.
I stepped closer, brushing some curls back and stretching my neck. Then my eyes drifted to the small orange bottle sitting by the sink. My smile faded slightly. With a sigh, I picked it up, rolling it between my fingers.
"Why couldn't you just flush yourself down the sink?" I muttered. "Or the toilet? I wouldn't have complained."
Then, with a resigned breath, I opened the orange container and popped one of the tablets into my palm. I held it up like it was a relic.
"I'm sorry, little one," I whispered to the pill. "But I will have to consume you now. Please don't blame me. Blame the voices."
I paused, realizing I was talking to an antidepressant. My eyes narrowed, lips twitching with amusement at myself. Shaking my head, I tossed it into my mouth and swallowed it dry.
No ceremony. No water. Just the dull slide of routine.
Without another word, I stepped into the shower. The warm water cascaded down, washing over my skin like a silent promise. With every drop, a little more of the nightmare slid away—at least for now.
After drying off and getting dressed, I grabbed my school bag and headed out of my room. The smell of lemon porridge wafted through the corridor, warm and inviting. My stomach grumbled like it was clapping in approval. Laura was already up and about, probably halfway through cooking something magical, as usual.
Just as I was about to step into the kitchen, she jumped out of nowhere—camera in hand—and snapped a photo. The flash caught me mid-step, mouth open in surprise, with the most ridiculous expression frozen forever in time.
"This one is going in the album!" Laura declared proudly, grinning from ear to ear.
"I think not, madam," I said, dramatically placing a hand on my chest like some kind of cartoon noble.
She raised an eyebrow. "Oh really? And who's gonna stop me?"
"I will, tall lady," I shot back, trying to hold a serious face.
"Okay, short stuff," she teased, laughing as she turned and strolled into the kitchen, camera swinging at her side.
I followed her into the kitchen, which doubled as our living room. Our two-bedroom house was cozy, with a small kitchen, a bathroom, and a comfortable living area. The kitchen table sat in the middle of the room, with a large cupboard against one wall, a small sink, and a compact fridge.
As we sat down to eat, Laura asked, "So, how's the porridge? Is it okay?" I took a mouthful, savoring the warm, comforting flavors.
"It's great, Laura. Thanks for making it."
We chatted for a bit about school and my first day, but then I fell silent for a minute, almost zoning out of the conversation. Concern etched across her face, Laura asked, "Hey, you okay?" I nodded, trying to brush it off. But my mind was already racing. These nightmares were getting worse.
Laura disappeared for a few moments, only to return with her hands behind her back. A sly smile spread across her face as she stood before me, waiting for me to ask what she was up to. But I wasn't going to fall for this game so easily. I kept quiet, glanced at the clock, and continued eating, pretending Laura wasn't there.
Eventually, Laura cleared her throat to get my attention. I looked up, raised an eyebrow, and asked, "Is everything okay?"
Laura pouted. "Nah, you're not fun anymore." She brought her hands forward, closed, and asked me to pick one.
I hesitated for a moment before doing as I was told. I picked one of her hands, and Laura opened it, revealing a small pendant inside. It was a silver rectangle with my name, "Alex," elegantly engraved on its surface.
Laura handed it to me, saying, "If you ever feel alone, just whisper my name into it."
I examined the pendant more closely. It was light, rectangular, and made of silver. But as I held it in my hand, I noticed something odd—the metal felt cold. Freezing cold, as if it had been stored in the refrigerator. I shrugged it off and took the pendant anyway. I whispered Laura's name three times into it, and we both erupted in laughter.
"I think it's broken," I teased.
Laura offered to put the pendant on for me. She bent over, leaned close, and effortlessly tied it around my neck. Her deep blue eyes sparkled with happiness—a joy I hadn't seen in her for a while. After securing the pendant, she pulled back and told me to finish up. I took my plate to the sink to wash it, but Laura insisted on doing it herself.
"I'm not cooking tonight, though," I said with a grin.
Laura chuckled and replied, "Don't worry about it."
Hearing that, I gave her a quick hug, grabbed my bag, and headed out.