7

I WAKE UP IN the dead of night. At least I assume so, given how dark it still is. But as I try to turn over, I find I'm not in bed. I'm underwater. Gasping for air that won't come. Water fills my lungs. I'm going to drown here. I'm going to die if I don't get out of here. I thrash, trying to break the surface.

"You left me to drown You didn't try hard enough to stop me." Moriah's disembodied voice echoes through the depths of the ocean. "So now you will suffer the way I did." Though it doesn't sound quite like her soft tone. It's eerie, almost bitter.

I try to swim up, but I only sink further, vines of seaweed holding my ankles. My consciousness is slipping away, water taking over the last of my oxygen.

Then a hand pulls me up to the top. I cough up water, still not able to breathe. I am sprawled on a rocky beach, hacking up water, gasping, my lungs burning.

"Your pain is delicious," a mysterious voice hums from further up the shoreline.

When I'm finally able to take a breath, to gain the strength to hold my head up, I look towards the stranger watching me. He's floating in the air, his legs crossed. He's cloaked in darkness; his eyes are luminous white orbs. His face is shrouded in shadows. I try to move away, but I find myself paralyzed, floating once again with my head above water.

"W-who are you?"

"I am the mastermind behind this little nightmare. I am known by many names, but you can call me Rook. I know your deepest fears. Your worst mistakes. The things that make you guilty. Your pain is quite strong. It feeds my hunger."

"What?"

"There's not enough time to explain. You're soon to wake from all of this. Don't worry, Atlas. I will be back."

I shoot up, wide awake. Sweat trickles down my back, beads on my face, making my hair cling to my forehead and neck. I'm clutching my chest, gasping as if the air was truly taken from my lungs.

I've never been one to have wild dreams or even nightmares. But this felt like more than just a nightmare.

I run a hand over my face. It's obvious I'm not going back to sleep. I grab my phone from my nightstand, checking the time. Only 4:45 a.m. I shake my head. I have a few hours before I head to work. I turn my lamp on and grab the book from my bedside table. Might as well make use of the time.

WHEN I WANDER INTO the kitchen, Carter looks up from his bowl of cereal. "You look like a truck ran you over."

"Thanks," I mutter.

"Sorry I didn't get home until late. I met up with Rebecca after work and lost track of time."

I grab a cup to fill with water from the tap. "You don't have to be here when I'm here. You've got a life outside of me."

"Going back to your hometown never seems to do good things for you. And coming home to a spotless apartment and a roommate passed out on his bed doesn't feel great to me."

"I clean to cope."

Carter knows the darkest parts of my past. He knows why I blame myself for everything. It's why he knows the effect going home has on me. He doesn't usually ask questions.

But usually, whenever I get home, he's sitting up on the couch with the Xbox controller, ready to distract me until I no longer feel the pain gripping my heart, consuming my mind. Until it's no longer driving me insane.

It isn't too often I go into a cleaning frenzy, but when I do, I know it's a little intense.

"I know," he says slowly. "But if you need to talk about it, I'm willing to sit and listen."

I gulp down my water and say, "I'm actually going to get something to eat on my way to work. Thanks for the offer. If I need to talk, I'll tell you. See you later."

Carter nods, seeming unconvinced. But it doesn't matter if he's convinced that I'm okay or not. I have to fake it till I make it.

Your pain is delicious.

My hand freezes on the door handle to my truck, the voice replaying in my head. They say people who show up in your dreams are people you've seen before, even if just for a glance.

But I would remember the glowing white of his eyes, the arrogance.

The poison of his presence.

I shake it off, pulling out of the parking lot and driving towards my job at the hardware store.

It was a nightmare, not unlike the many I've had over the course of the past few years. A night terror that gripped my heart and reminded me of everything I've lost.

I've had them many times.

But the memory of them never lingers this long. I always forget them. For some reason, though, this one is seared into my brain, which tells me there's more to it than just a simple mental disorder or a misfiring of my neurons during the night.

Maybe I'm being haunted.

Or maybe I'm making something out of nothing.

Even with my heart pounding and a small voice in the back of my mind telling me there's something more to the mysterious man who showed up in my dreams. The way he seemed to watch me, despite the pools of white seeming sightless in the shadows that obscured his face.

It was a nightmare.

Nothing more.