Truth Chasers

Chapter Thirteen

Thursday 23rd August, 2040.
Inwood Indulgence- Section 1, Quarter 1.
7:45pm
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I wonder briefly if I'm dreaming again.

I hardly had dreams before all of this started. I used to have dreams I never bothered too much about once in a while. Dreams about dad being around more. Dreams about racing with Knockout. And sometimes, dreams about my mom. Dreams where I met her in the kitchen smiling at me with hair as red as mine. My dreams were hardly constant.

But for the past week I have dreamt every night.
Every. Single. Night.

No, hold on. I haven't dreamt every night, I've had nightmares every night.

Nightmares involving blood. Lots of it. Sometimes it's my blood. Sometimes it's the blood of others.

Nightmares involving guns.

Gunshots always seem to be present in my nightmares. The loud bang causing me to always stay frozen in place with my heart racing, palms sweating and I'm hardly ever able to speak.

This is probably a nightmare, I tell myself. I am currently having another routine nightmare.

A nightmare where I'm in the bathroom of Inwood Indulgence and someone in a ski mask is standing behind me with a gun in hand.

I can't move.

I can't speak.

I can't even breathe.

The gun seems to glimmer as the person— male or female, I have no clue— raises it higher.
And aims at me.

This is how it ends.

My dead body is going to be discovered in the bathroom of Inwood Indulgence.

I'm going to die tonight. On the 23rd of August.

I feel a tear stream down my cheek. And another. Then another. I'm hyperventilating, I realize. The air is thick. My lungs aren't functioning properly. I close my eyes as my chest constricts, my lungs struggle to take in air.

Oxygen is scarce suddenly.

My chest is full of lead.

I'm falling to my knees because my lungs are so heavy.

A loud thud rings in my ear.

A gunshot?

Am I dead?

Something touches me. Again and again, something makes contact with me. Hands, I realize. Someone's hands.

Someone is touching me. Am I still having a nightmare? Is dad waking me up again?

"Are you okay?" A feminine voice asks. She keeps asking me that same question— If I'm okay. Her hands rub up and down my spine. Trying to provide some type of comfort. But I'm shaking.
"Open your eyes." She says. And I do. I want to see if my killer has somehow morphed into someone who now seeks to provide me comfort. I'm desperate to know where I've been shot and how much of my blood has left my body.

I want to know... I need to know.
I look down at myself.

There's Nothing. No blood.

I blink then look at the lady.

No ski masked killer.

I stare at the person kneeling down beside me. She looks like she couldn't harm a fly. Her small lips pull into a sympathetic smile. I feel around my body. Tapping myself at random places. My chest, my stomach my legs. Searching for blood or injuries. But my search comes up empty. I'm not hurt.