Night Changes (p.parker)

CHAPTER TEN: THE DREAM

IT FELT HOT. All too hot.

Your legs were restless as they swished back and forth underneath your light sheets, a crease between your brows and something hanging low in the air.

Something was wrong. It felt wrong.

Yet you couldn't decipher what was out of place.

When you gathered enough energy to open your eyes, they were met with the light of the moon, your curtains gently swaying in the wind. You didn't remember leaving the window open.

The world seems abnormally dark, a little too dark for your liking. Your eyes scanned the room, in search of what could possibly be so off-putting, and yet so mysterious.

You found nothing.

And now it felt too quiet.

What the hell was happening?

Your arms rested by your sides as your eyes were trained on the ceiling. Something, somewhere, was wrong, and you couldn't quite decipher what that might be.

You were confused in the worst way possible.

You threw the covers off of your body, your thin cotton shorts riding up your thighs, an old Midtown shirt clinging to your torso.

You inwardly groan at the lack of exhaustion, knowing you were going to hate yourself in the morning.

You rubbed your palms into your eyes, your soft skin digging into your flesh. You tried to subside the unsettling feeling in your gut.

Blinking your eyes open, they trailed down your bare fingers and sweaty palms.

And then it hit you.

Where were your gloves?

You didn't dare take them off unless you were washing your hands or in the shower.

Before you could stop yourself, your eyes traveled down to your wrists, bracing yourself for the inevitable spider you were bound to see.

However, it was different.

So terribly different.

Instead of the normal black creature that permanently resided on your wrist, it was replaced with the same image, but shattered.

It was torn up, large cracks ruining the intricate design. There was an irritation around it, and suddenly it felt like it was burning.

But this sensation felt unusual.

It wasn't a tingle of excitement, it was flaming despair. It was painful and slow, and you questioned how you didn't feel this the moment your eyes opened. Your hands flew to your wrist, squeezing it in hopes the pain would subside.

It didn't.

Tears welled in your eyes as you came to a realization.

You had heard the tale before, but nobody ever dwelled on it. Why tell your child what happens when their soulmate dies? Why crush their innocence so quickly?

Salty streams of water made their way down your cheeks, dampening your skin with their touch. It felt poisonous, consuming you. As if your lungs collapsed in on themselves, atom bombs dropping around you in despair while you do nothing but helplessly watch.

Surely this had to be a mistake?

He couldn't be dead. Absolutely not.

You refused to believe it.