The Man of My Dreams

Chapter Ten: The Nightmares Begin

Mia tossed restlessly in her bed, the edges of sleep pulling her under, but something felt different tonight. The warmth she had come to expect in her dreams with Ethan had shifted—there was a chill that lingered at the corners of her subconscious, curling in like fog on a cold morning.

The dreamscape unfolded as it always did, a vibrant world painted with impossibly bright colors and shimmering landscapes. Ethan was there, waiting for her as usual, his dark hair falling just above his brow, eyes intense yet unreadable. She smiled at first, but tonight, something in his presence unnerved her. The warmth that used to draw her in felt distant, replaced by an unsettling weight pressing against her chest.

"Mia," he said softly, his voice like velvet wrapping around her. "I've been waiting."

She walked toward him, but with each step, the colors of the dream began to fade. The vibrant forest that once sparkled with starlight dimmed, and the trees twisted into grotesque shapes. The ground beneath her feet felt unstable, like stepping on broken glass. She looked down to see the once soft grass had turned to sharp, jagged stones that cut into her bare feet.

Mia stopped in her tracks, her heart racing. "Ethan, what's happening?"

He didn't answer, just smiled—a smile that no longer felt familiar, but eerie. There was something cold behind his eyes now, a darkness she hadn't noticed before.

"I need to wake up," Mia whispered, feeling panic rise in her throat. The air around her grew thicker, suffocating, as if the dream itself were closing in on her. Ethan moved closer, his shadow stretching unnaturally long across the ground.

She turned to run, but her body felt sluggish, like she was moving through water. Behind her, she heard his footsteps—slow, deliberate.

"Mia," his voice followed her, low and dangerous now. "There's nowhere to run."

The landscape morphed further into a nightmarish version of itself. Trees bent unnaturally toward her, their twisted branches reaching out like skeletal fingers. The sky above, once filled with stars, was now an oppressive shade of black, devoid of light.

Mia could feel Ethan's presence behind her, closing in, his breath hot against her neck. She stumbled forward, but her foot caught on something—her heart lurched as she fell. She hit the ground hard, scraping her hands on the rough stones. Pain shot through her, sharp and real.

Real?

Desperation clawed at her as she pushed herself up, but Ethan was there now, looming over her, his face shadowed and expressionless. His hand reached for her, but before it touched her skin, she screamed.

Mia jolted awake, her body drenched in sweat, heart pounding wildly in her chest. Her hands stung, and when she looked down, there were small, red marks across her palms—like tiny cuts. She shook her head, trying to shake off the lingering fear.

"It was just a dream," she whispered to herself, but her voice wavered.

The room was dark, the familiar hum of her apartment filling the silence, but something felt off. She glanced toward the window, her breath catching in her throat.

It was open.

Mia stared at it in confusion. She had closed it before going to bed. She was sure of it. The cool night breeze wafted in, sending a shiver down her spine. She swung her legs out of bed, her feet touching the cold floor as she crossed the room to shut the window. The lock clicked into place with an unnerving finality, and she stood there for a moment, staring out into the empty street below.

But that wasn't the only thing.

Her bedroom door was ajar, just slightly, but enough for her to notice. She always closed her door before going to sleep. Her mind raced with possibilities, but none of them made sense. Ethan had never been to her apartment—at least, not that she was aware of.

She walked over to the door and pulled it shut, her pulse still pounding in her ears. As she turned back toward the bed, something caught her eye—just a glimpse in the corner of the room, a shadow where there shouldn't be one.

Mia froze, staring into the darkness, her breath shallow. The shadow didn't move, but the sensation of being watched was overwhelming. Her skin prickled with the undeniable feeling that someone—or something—was there with her, watching.

Her heart hammered against her ribs, and she fumbled for the bedside lamp. The soft click of the switch flooded the room with warm light, but the shadow was gone. Everything looked normal again, but the feeling lingered, gnawing at her insides.

She pressed a hand to her chest, trying to calm her breathing. It's just your imagination. The dream was messing with your head.

But when she looked down at her arms, her blood ran cold.

There, on her wrists, were faint bruises, like fingerprints pressed into her skin. They hadn't been there before she went to bed. Panic gripped her as she touched the marks, wincing at the soreness beneath her fingertips. They were real. This was real.

Her mind raced. Was someone in her apartment? Was Ethan...?

No. That's impossible. He's never been here.

But the dreams, the bruises, the open window—it was all too much. She grabbed her phone from the nightstand and checked the time. 3:14 AM.

Her hands shook as she scrolled through her messages. She hesitated over Ethan's name, the familiar warmth of their earlier conversations now feeling cold and distant. She wanted to tell him what was happening, to hear his soothing voice, but something stopped her. A deep, gnawing suspicion.

What if he already knew?

Mia dropped the phone back onto the nightstand and curled up in bed, pulling the blankets tight around her. Her mind was racing, her pulse still erratic, but exhaustion was pulling at her. She closed her eyes, trying to convince herself it was just a nightmare.

But as she drifted back to sleep, the uneasy feeling lingered—the sense that Ethan was closer than she realized, watching her even now, slipping through the veil between dream and reality.