Wildest Dreams

tw e lv e

It was in the middle of Math class when we heard screams erupting from outside. The teacher instructed the class to stay inside while he checked the seemingly empty hallways. I raised my sleepy eyes from my notebook to look at the door, where Mr. Reyes was standing.

He suddenly fell to the ground bleeding. The whole class followed next—dropping to the floor with heavy thuds.

Another scream erupted. It sounded like steam blowing off in a boiler room.

A boiler room.

The boiler room.

A man with wrinkled face and disfigured body stood just meters away from me. He had a malicious grin on his face as he waved his pointy finger knives at me.

I clambered out from my seat, dropping to the steel walkways of the boiler room. The man took a step closer, the grin never fading. I felt like shouting but my voice was caught back like every single time before.

I crawled away from him as fast as I could. He then scraped his knives to the railings, sending sparks with every step he took.

"What do you want from me?!" I shouted at him.

"Play with me," he answered, tilting his head a bit, "since Nancy doesn't want to."

He'd been toying me for the past four years. I'd never had fun in any of throse games and how dare he pull in my friends as well.

"Go fuck yourself!" I spat at him, feeling a hint of confidence until I felt the concrete wall on my back. His grinned became bigger and I knew my confidence disappeared and helplessness replaced it.

"Pet, that's not a nice thing to say." He laughed and threw sparks at my direction. "Tina was a lot less violent than you two."

"You killed her, you jerk! You killed my friend!"

I screamed as he raised his hand above his head. I heard him laughing then there was the sharp sting on the side of my face, making me scream again.

I shield my face for another encounter, but then felt a pair of hands grabbing my arms instead.

"Let me go!" I shouted, wriggling out of their grasps and fighting back.

"Ms. Hartley!"

My eyes forced open to see Mr. Reyes in front of me and the rest of the class curiously staring at me. I was sitting on the floor, my back against the teacher's desk.

"Ms. Hartley, care to explain what you are doing there?" Mr. Reyes asked, helping me stand up. I stayed quiet, realizing that I was dreaming but actively moving in the physical world.

"Fine, we'll pretend nothing happened then." He motioned me to sit back on the chair when one of my classmates spoke up.

"Sir, her face is bleeding." Malcolm pointed at the left side of my face. I reached to touch it and crimson liquid painted my fingertips.

"Get her to the nurse," Mr. Reyes told Malcom, which quickly came to my side and guided me to the door. He gave us a hall pass as well.

"Does anyone else feel like screaming? If so, save it on another time. Let's get back to finding the constant K."

My wool glove was drenched with blood when we arrived at the infirmary. The nurse asked what happened and I lied about a notebook flying in the air and cutting my cheek. Malcolm didn't seem to mind. He offered to get my things and left. The nurse cleaned my cheek first, even commenting how much it bled and stained my dress.

In the end, I got stitches and a bandage over the cut to absorb leaking blood. Before leaving, I asked if I can use the toilet. In the bathroom, I quickly took out my soaked glove and washed it on the sink. I watched in silence as the blood flowed out and coloured the running water red.

My bare hand was also stained red. I washed it with the cold water and brushed gently at the almost unnoticeable bumps of the scars scattered on my palm. Scars that should've been impossible because they were made of fear from nightmares. They were a clear reminder of the past four years. Never going away, always goes with the bad dreams.

I wondered if this one in my face would stay as well.

I sighed and closed the faucet. After squeezing the glove until dry, I wore it again. Cold upon my numb skin. Protection and armor.

Just as I left the infirmary, the bell rang signaling the end of the period. I decided to check on Nancy. Her classroom was almost empty when I arrived there. Ms. Hayes stood by her desk, compiling paperwork. I knocked on the open door.

"Good afternoon, Ms. Hayes," I greeted. "I was wondering if Nancy Thompson was okay? I'm a friend of hers."

She smiled kindly at me. "Of course, I remember you, Maple. Come in."

I nodded, coming closer to the desk but had no intention to stay long.

"Nancy has been taking the news badly. She lost two of her friends in one night. Very devastating." Ms. Hayes gazed up to me. "And I'm very sorry too Maple, they were your friends too, weren't they?"

"Yeah, they are." I intertwined my fingers, feeling the wet fabric from the left hand.

"I remember when all four of you were in my freshman class. Your group was always a mess, but you were great students," shared Ms. Hayes, her smile growing.

I nodded, pursing my lips. "You said Nancy took the news badly, what happened?"

"She had a meltdown in the middle of class."

I knew Nancy was not her usual self today, reason mentioned too many times already, and I had the guess as well that she was the scream from earlier. This just showed that we're in bigger trouble than we thought.

"We were reading and suddenly she was screaming," Ms. Hayes continued. She stopped compiling the papers and sat on her desk, facing me. "I rushed to her but it was like as if she was fighting someone else off her. She must've been dreaming because when she opened her eyes, she stopped. I offered to call her mother but she was out already the door on her way home."

"She left?" I asked.

Ms. Hayes nodded. "Check up on her, Maple. As her teacher, I'm worried about her. She needs a friend with her today."

I nodded, heading back to the door but she spoke again.

"What happened to your face, dear?"

My hand flied up to my cheek unconsciously. "A notebook got thrown and hit me in the face."

"How unlucky. Take care, Maple."

"Yes, thank you Ms. Hayes. Have a good day." I left the room before a new batch of students went it. The rest of the day I was worried about Nancy and wondered if Glen has been having a day like us.