Page 1 of Against All Odds

Prologue

Raya

Dreams and reality have always felt the same to me.

I stormed up the stairs two at a time, ignoring my stepfather’s approaching footsteps. His speech slurred as he yelled at me to stop running. Every step felt heavier than the last, as if the ground was covered in syrup, dragging my feet back to the ground.

Panic clawed at my chest as his footsteps grew louder. He was always like this when he’d had too much to drink – first he beat up my mom, and then me. No matter how much we tried to stay out of his way.

If he couldn’t catch me, I was safe. If he did, he would hurt me worse for trying to run, and my mom would let it happen like always. If I wanted to make it to my hidden spot, I had to be fast. But then the ground would need to stop being syrup.

Out of breath, I ducked behind the closet. My mom and her boyfriend didn’t know there was a loose shelf in the old house, the cramped space behind it just big enough for an eight-year-old kid to fit. It was the one place where they couldn’t find me.

“Where are you, you disgraceful fucking brat!”

Blood raced in my ears as I listened to his thumping footsteps. He yanked open the door of the closet, muttering more slurred curses and insults. I would get in trouble for speaking like that in school, but apparently, it was okay for him as an adult. My entire body was shivering as I pulled Bunny, my rabbit, closer to me. Bunny was just as scared as I was, even though a stuffed animal couldn’t show fear.

“We’re safe, Bunny,” I whispered, my voice barely above a breeze as I covered its ears with my hands. “The bad man can’t find us here.”

The footsteps died away. The bad man’s drunken speech faded as he marched into my mom’s bedroom, loudly slamming the door behind him.

At school, we were learning to read the clock. Five times, I counted to sixty. Five minutes was usually enough to make sure he was really asleep. He often woke up the next day to start crying and pleading to my mom about how sorry he was, begging her to forgive him. She always did.

“Just checking if the coast is clear,” I whispered to Bunny. Still trembling, I crawled out from behind our hiding spot.

I stumbled to my feet, careful not to hit my head as I stood. I was growing fast lately, and soon, I wouldn’t be able to fit in this hiding spot anymore.

The thought was so scary, I tried not to think about it.

I tilted my head and froze.

An identical copy of Bunny sat on the stairs to the attic, his blank stare fixed on me.

I forgot how to move or breathe. Maybe I remembered wrong, I told myself. Maybe I actually took Bunny with me.

But when I turned back to check my hiding spot, I saw what I already knew. Bunny was right where I’d left him. The real Bunny. Right? Or had I been cuddling the evil one, and was the real one sitting on the stairs?

I jumped back as if stung, tightly wrapping my arms around myself. I should’ve known better. I should’ve paid attention to the little signs that I was dreaming. My drunk stepfather chasing me wasn’t a clue; that happened often in the waking world as well – but the syrup? That was a sign I shouldn’t have missed. The syrup only ever happened in dreams. We’d just learned about gravity in school, and my dreams felt just like those videos of astronauts on the moon.

I flinched as the booming laugh echoed through the house.

“Fallen for it once again, little girl? You’re not learning, are you?”

“Please.” A whimper left my throat as I squeezed my eyes shut. “I’m scared. Just let me wake up.”

I knew it was pointless. The demon that had been plaguing my dreams for as long as I could remember never listened when I begged him for mercy.

He laughed again, so loudly, the room spun around me. If he wasn’t careful, he’d wake my stepfather.

“You know there’s only one way to wake up, little girl.”

An invisible force lifted Bunny from our hiding spot, placing it beside the other Bunny on the stairs. I blinked, trying to spot a difference, but they were identical.

“Now you tell me,” the demon barked. I couldn’t see him, but his voice was all around me, entering my head even as I pressed my hands against my ears. “Which is the real Bunny? Choose correctly, and you may wake up. Choose wrong…”

I shuddered. We both knew what happened if I chose wrong. The demon would eat me. He couldn’t kill me, of course, because this was all a dream – but it would hurt just the same. After so many times, it still hurt the same every time.

The seconds ticked away as I looked between the two Bunny’s, trying to choose right. It was a game of odds with no way to tell the difference. Fifty percent chance of being right, fifty percent chance of being wrong – and yet, it seemed I chose wrong more often than not.