Chapter 8

I was running, yet I wasn't moving forward at all.

I was screaming, but no sound escaped my lips.

I was fleeing from a dark figure.

He held a knife in one hand and a g*un in the other.

My heart pounded violently throughout my body.

He caught up to me.

I looked into my brother's eyes and saw only hatred there.

He whispered in my ear, "It's all your fault."

I cried out for help, still unable to make a sound.

He grabbed me by my hair and spun me around to see my father, strapped to a chair with his mouth covered. He looked at me with pleading eyes, but I remained paralyzed.

My brother raised the g*un and shot my father in the head. I watched as he bled out.

I screamed again, but no scream came. I wept, but no tears formed.

All I could do was watch.

He spun me around again, and I saw my mother strapped to a hospital bed, surrounded by a black void.

He crept over to her and stabbed her repeatedly. Then he turned to look at me.

"This is all your fault," his words echoed through the emptiness.

My screams finally rang out in my head, becoming audible to me. They grew so loud that I closed my eyes, feeling someone shaking me.

My eyes snapped open, and I stopped my blood-curdling screams. I felt the sweat and tears soaking my clothes as I saw my mother, also crying. She stopped shaking me and pulled me into a hug. I hugged her back, sobbing even harder. I hadn't had nightmares this bad in months.

"Shhh. It's okay. I've got you, baby. I've got you," she whispered in my ear, which helped calm me down a little. After a few minutes of this, my alarm clock went off for school. My mother looked at me tenderly.

"Do you want to skip today?" she asked.

"No, I'm fine," I said, attempting to wipe away my tears with my sweaty hands. She helped me up from the bed and looked at me more seriously.

"Honey, I hate to say this, but if the nightmares start up again, I'll have to schedule some therapy appointments. I don't want to, but I just want what's best for you," she paused.

"Mom, I know. But I’m fine. The therapist said I might have nightmares occasionally," I replied, walking toward the bathroom.

She gave me a sympathetic look and walked away. She could be an amazing mother when she wasn’t drunk.

I started the shower and stepped in. The cold water hit my back, making me cringe at the icy liquid now covering my body.

I quickly turned the lever to make the water warmer. I let the water pour over my body, feeling the rejuvenating sensation as it cascaded down my face.

I slowly sank to the floor of my shower, burying my face in my knees. I cried uncontrollably. Closing my eyes, I rested my forehead on my knees until the darkness began to make me feel anxious.

Looking back up, I was momentarily blinded by the sudden brightness. I continued to cry until my mother finally knocked on the bathroom door.

"Sweetie, you're going to be late for school," she said. After a few more minutes, I finally got up and turned off the water. The isolation and safety of the shower faded away as I dried myself off.

I walked over to my dresser and put on my comfiest underwear. I slipped into black leggings and grabbed a random red sweatshirt from my closet.

Dragging myself into the bathroom, I braided my hair and applied some mascara. Lazily grabbing my phone from the nightstand, I made my way downstairs to the kitchen.

My mother had already prepared my Froot Loops in a bowl with milk beside it. After taking just two bites of cereal, I lost my appetite.

I yelled goodbye to my mother and stepped out the front door, the fresh morning air providing some relief to my bloodshot, probably puffy eyes.

The car ride to school seemed very quick because I wanted to stay in the car as long as possible. I managed to get through the first half of the day, receiving worried looks and comments from Josie and Madison. By lunchtime, they were highly suspicious.

"Okay, Crystal. What the heck is wrong with you today? You didn’t even make a snarky remark when I insulted your fashion sense," Josie said, looking at me with concern.

"Just... stuff. My, um, cat died," I lied, cringing internally at how lame my excuse sounded. Surprisingly, they believed me.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry! I shouldn't have kept asking about it all day," Josie said, and Madison nodded in agreement. I tried to smile as genuinely as I could.

"It's fine."

On my way to biology class, I felt my anxiety begin to rise again in my chest. I was overreacting about a mere dream. I needed to toughen up and stop acting like such a crybaby.

All the thoughts swirling in my head only made things worse, and before I knew it, I found myself in an empty bathroom, gasping for air as I stared into the mirror, criticizing how much of a drama queen I was being.

About ten minutes later, I managed to push my minor anxiety attack down, burying it deep within my heart where it would continue to lurk around my soul.

By the time I reached biology, I was extremely late. Everyone turned to look at me as I entered the room.

"Miss Summers," Mr. Gletzo said. I hurried to my seat at the back of the classroom.

As I sat down, I accidentally glanced up at Asmodeus. His dusk blue eyes held a confused, worried expression, and for some reason, they had a calming effect on me.

He must have noticed this shift in my emotions because his eyes quickly turned cold and hard again, pulling me out of whatever strange trance I had been in.

He looked away, and my heart sank just a little. I glanced over at him a couple more times during the class, but his eyes were always fixed on the teacher, showing nothing but stone-cold emotion. Something told me that I would never see those safe, sympathetic eyes of his again.

When the bell rang, Asmodeus disappeared into the hallway without even a glance in my direction. I took a deep breath as I gathered my things and headed to my car.

Once inside my car, I felt a sudden rush of safety wash over me. However, this feeling quickly faded as I tried to hold back my tears.

I couldn't bear living in a constant state of fear and anxiety anymore. That was why I had moved.

Leaning my face into my hands, I cried into them, trying to get it all out before I started driving—I didn’t want my tears to blur my vision on the road. About half an hour later, I finally began driving back home.

On the way, I took my time, finding solace in my car. For some reason, it felt like the safest place I could be.

That night, I fell asleep listening to music, trying to avoid thinking. Thankfully, the night was free of nightmares.

Instead, it was filled with a painfully empty void, the blackness seeping into my heart even though it was subconscious. I woke up several times throughout the night, but thankfully, none of those times involved screaming in my mother's arms.