Running, and Running, and Running

1. Rain

Running. It was raining. Priscilla kept blinking in the darkness, with her hands wiping at her eyes haphazardly. Not tears, just rain. Her shoes made squelching noises in the wet mud, sending water and mud splashing up onto her socks and her pants. Priscilla hated mud. She hated the feeling of it touching her skin. However, she couldn't stop to wipe it away or slow down to prevent more splash. Her mind only told her to go. Keep going. Don't stop.

Lightning flashed overhead, briefly illuminating the forest that she was in.

Biting on her lower lip, Priscilla leapt over an exposed root. She screamed as her ankle twisted slightly when she landed, but she didn't let herself stop. Rain pelted harder against her head, further drenching her already drenched clothes. Her hands were in fists- fists so tight that she felt her own fingernails digging into the flesh of her palm. Priscilla kept running. She didn't know why, but her mind told her that she could only go forward. There was no turning back.

The wind howled and the trees bent with it. Wet tendrils of hair and plants clung to her face as she ran. She briefly looked down. Her white shoes were unrecognizable. Lightning flashed once more, causing Priscilla to flinch.

One flinch. That was all it took.

A single flinch and Priscilla felt something snag her shoe. A root? A rock? She would never know. Her arms went flailing and her entire body lurched. She was falling, she was falling. The wet mud puddle was getting closer to her face. Priscilla's eyes widened and she opened her mouth-

"Ma'am! Ma'am!" an urgent voice said in a hushed tone. A hand was tapping her fervently. "You're having nightmares again!"

Priscilla sat up straight, her eyes wide. Her chest was heaving, as if she had just run a marathon. Cold sweat caused her clothes to cling to her skin. Her eyes darted around the room. It was her bedroom. The same bedroom that she had been in all her life. Priscilla took a look around. Yes. The same old bedroom. It was the same lace curtains, same wooden closet. Her familiar shelf of toys stared back at her from across the room. The nightlight beside her was switched on, as she always insisted upon.

She placed a hand against her chest, feeling her heart still racing under her skin. Priscilla took a deep breath.

A hand patted her back, trying to help her calm down. It was the helper that her parents had hired to take care of their property, Miss Brenda. She stayed here with Priscilla's family full time, and had been with the family ever since Priscilla was a child. With how busy her parents were, Miss Brenda was essentially the one who brought Priscilla up.

"I'm sorry, I felt like I had to wake you. I didn't want your parents to get mad," Miss Brenda apologized.

Priscilla waved her apology aside.

"It's okay. Thank you," Priscilla mumbled, still trying to catch her breath. "Please, go back to sleep. I'll be fine."

With a look of pity, Miss Brenda rose to her feet and took her leave.

Priscilla lay back down with a loud thump, letting out a groan of frustration. The same nightmare was keeping her up a lot, it was preventing her from having any good sleep at all. She wrapped the thick covers around herself and curled up in its warmth. Nothing that the doctors had prescribed had helped her to sleep soundly. It was beyond frustrating. Her parents were spending so much money to try and help her to sleep better- also because it annoyed them if their sleep got interrupted by her screams- and yet it felt like no progress was being made.

Her fingers gingerly touched the scar on her head. The stitches had just been removed a week ago.

Ever since the accident, Priscilla's entire life had been turned upside down. How long ago has it been? A month? Probably a month. She lost track of time after spending most of her days just lying in bed, and about a week unconscious.

It has been a month since she was found in the middle of the forest by a hiker, surrounded by muddy puddles, bloodied and unconscious. A month since she had police officers by her side 24/7, trying to make sure that no one was going to come and get her. She had woken up in a hospital, where she had no idea how she had gotten there or even gotten to the forest, and then was soon told by Miss Brenda that she had already been unconscious for a whole week. She couldn't remember what happened leading up to the incident. Most importantly, she couldn't remember what happened to her girlfriend, Delia.

Delia had gone missing that same night.

The police had hypothesized that the two girls had been hanging out. They might have been abducted, and only Priscilla had made it out- and even then, only barely. The head wound was serious, and the doctors have made it a point to mention it multiple times that if the hiker had not found her then, Priscilla might have simply passed away on the forest floor.

Almost every other day, an officer contacts her to ask if she had recalled any new information. But no. Nothing. Her memory of the day itself, or even a few days leading up to it was still wiped. Some said it was the trauma from the incident or the hit. Priscilla could only hope that she could remember anything soon. She couldn't imagine where Delia was, or what she might have gone through over the last month since being abducted.

Priscilla has tried.

She tried hypnosis or therapy that tried to break into those memories. It didn't work. The only thing she could remember was the recurring nightmare she had. Once, Priscilla had thought that as long as she kept on dreaming, she might remember or even see Delia in her dreams- anything to help the police find the culprits or her girlfriend. She had been so determined. She told Miss Brenda not to wake her even if the nightmare came. It was the only night since the incident that Priscilla was anticipating sleep. She thought that she might be able to crack the case. However, she couldn't be more wrong. Her nightmare only looped. There was no new information. It was a lost cause.

Clutching onto the cat plushie that Delia had given her on their last anniversary, Priscilla tried to force her eyes shut and go back to sleep. There was no choice. She had to sleep. Gripping onto the plushie, she could only squirm uncomfortably in her bed until the birds started to sing and sun began to shine through the window, signaling another restless night.