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The man wore a ski mask to hide his identity.
Before I could shout for Cayla, he slammed a fist into my face and a knife into my abdomen at the same time.
I fell to the ground, clutching at my side, willing the blood to stop flowing. I needed to help Cayla and I couldn’t do that if I was bleeding out on the floor.
I twisted my body to see the man grab her by the hair and yank her back through the window. She yelped in pain and started to shout for help. Why couldn’t the neighbors hear us? Couldn’t they sense that we needed help?
He dragged her over to the bed. She kicked, and yelled, and bit at him, but it did no good.
I felt myself fading, my vision becoming blurry.
I saw the knife penetrate her skin over and over again. Her screams echoed through my skull, torturing me.
When the man was done, he turned to me once more. The knife pointed towards the floor, blood dripping off of it.
He surprised me when he spoke. “This is your fault.”
And then, everything else faded away, and I died with them.
I woke with a start. My heart beat too fast and sweat drenched my skin. My cries echoed around me and I stared around at the unfamiliar place.
“Shh,” someone crooned in the darkened room. “Shh, it’s okay. You’re safe.”
“Sutton?”
“Yeah, it’s me.” I felt her hands on my face, but I couldn’t see her. Why couldn’t I see her? I blinked my eyes but everything remained black. Had I gone blind?”
Pushing her hands away, I reached and found that my eyes were actually still closed. I felt relieved. Forcing them open, I flinched the moment light hit my retinas. They closed automatically and I decided that darkness was better for now.
“Does the light bother you?” She asked, her voice soft and sweet—everything I didn’t deserve.
I nodded.
“Let me fix that.” She replied. Her warmth left my side and I heard the sound of a light switch being turned off. “You can open your eyes now.”
I did, slowly. As promised, the room was now bathed in darkness except for the glow of a nightlight plugged into the outlet. I noticed the door was closed, but…Sutton’s room didn’t have a door…and neither did mine.
“Where are we?” I asked, confused.
“The bathroom,” she laughed, reaching for my hand.
“The bathroom,” I repeated, the words tasting funny in my mouth. “Why?”
“Because when I got home from work this morning, you were passed out in front of my door. I needed to clean you up.”
“Ohhh,” I drew out the word, realization dawning on me. If I had been in the kind of state I believed I’d been in I wondered why Sutton had bothered helping my sorry ass.
“Why were you screaming?” She asked.
“I-it was a nightmare,” I muttered, suddenly realizing how out of breath I felt.
“It’s over now,” she whispered, crouching beside me. Her fingers gently glided through my damp hair. My eyes closed at the soothing touch.
“It’ll never be over,” I whispered. “When I wake up, the nightmare is real, except…”
“Except what?” She prodded.
“Except, when I’m sleeping…I die with them.”
