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I must be dreaming. This has to be a nightmare, but everything feels real.
Just to test the theory, I call on all my senses.
I wiggle my toes inside my sneakers, and my feet are a bit achy from walking around all day. The smell of wildflowers is around me, mixed with a pleasant scent I think is coming from the man. My pocket watch is ticking away on my chest. My mouth is dry, a natural reaction to an emergent situation.
All so real.
“How? How did this happe…” My voice trails off as I look at the girl.
Really look at her.
For a second, it’s like staring at a mirror. A distorted mirror, yes, but the reflection is still my own. Despite the missing patches of hair, the dark circles under the eyes, and the cracked lips, I recognize myself. She’s even wearing my pocket watch.
My own corpse is right in front of me.
The wildflowers drop from my hand.
Now I know for sure this is a nightmare. I just don’t know why I can’t wake up.
Frozen with fear, I stand completely still as the man kneels and spreads the body out on the grass.
My body. My emaciated, ugly, and absolutely terrifying body.
I can’t tear my eyes away from it. Her. Me.
Standing, the guy reaches into his pocket while saying the most ridiculous thing he could in this moment. “Stay calm.”
Fuck that.
Getting ready to scream, I suck in a breath.
“Hannah,” the man barks sharply.
It’s not his tone that makes me look up. It’s the way he says my name like he knows me.
As soon as I lift my gaze to his face, a cloud of gray dust puffs out from his palm.
I can’t help inhaling some of it, and I cough.
He blew something at me. He… He’s…
My train of thought derails.
I… I forget.
I have no idea what I was going to say, and a calmness comes over me.
“There’s nothing to worry about, okay?” I hear a masculine voice say, and I nod my compliance.
Nothing to worry about. Got it.
“Just sit down for a moment,” he commands gently, guiding me by the shoulders. As my legs fold under me, he lowers me to the ground. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”
“Where are you going?” I ask on autopilot. At least, I think I ask it. My words sound echoey in my head, and I don’t think I get an answer to my question.
It feels like only a few seconds pass before he’s back. Through a haze of confusion, I catch blurry glimpses of him.
First, he’s crouching next to someone with a pile of clothes—my clothes. He dresses her before posing her body in a comfortable position on her side with her hands cupped under her cheek, almost like she’s sleeping.
