Infamy

A Rather Dangerous Victim

The Lucid always wins.

The Lucid always wins.

The Lucid always wins.

Ryan lied awake in bed, he couldn't sleep. That same four word phrase repeated in his head. He turned over and looked at his unconscious wife; what on earth happened to that poor doctor? Ryan sat up and realised he was caked in sweat.

"The lucid always wins...the lucid always wins...the lucid...hold on..." Ryan whispered to himself when he remembered something. He nimbly hopped out of the bed and walked into the living room, he quickly ran over to his chair, "Lucid...that is not a new word in this case."

Ryan swiftly snatched the book, "Lucid Dreams: Learn to have them each night." He continued into the kitchen where he grabbed a rag and soaked it with water. He proceeded to wipe himself off to cool down. Then, with a cup of water, Ryan began reading the book with more vigor than ever before.

After an hour of reading, Ryan began reading the same comments and paragraphs over and over again, it didn't make sense. What on earth did Lucid dreams have to do with this case?

Ryan clenched his fist in anger and slammed the book onto the floor. He stormed back into the kitchen, stuck his head into the sink and turned on the faucet. Cold water ran down his face, calming him down; until he heard footsteps behind him. Ryan hastily and fearfully pulled his head out and braced himself as he turned around.

"Daddy?"

Ryan looked at Izzy with stone cold expression of shock, Izzy looked a little disturbed by this.

"You should be in bed, daddy," Izzy said with concern, Ryan's face loosened as he smiled at his sweet daughter.

"Yeah, daddy should be in bed," Ryan said as he picked up Izzy and kissed her on the top of her head, "You're a very responsible girl."

Izzy looked at Ryan with a dazed look, Ryan laughed, "you tired too?"

Izzy nodded with exhaustion. "Here," Ryan proposed, "How about I sleep with you tonight."

Izzy smiled weakly as she buried her head into his arm, "yes, please."

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"What happened to Dr. Carson?" Ryan asked Greg the next day.

"She was sent to a mental institute," Greg replied sullenly, "...I've seen scary things as a cop...but that...that was one of the worst things i've seen..."

"Do you have any idea what that was?" Ryan asked with anxiety.

"That was torture," Greg replied darkly, he stared at the floor, "someone tortured that poor woman..."

Ryan gulped in silence; torture, suicide, mysterious occurrences, this was only getting bigger and bigger.

"What...what does the Lucid have to do with any of this?" Ryan asked himself desperately in front of Greg. Greg shook his head silently in bewilderment.

"I can't do this...not today...I need a break," Ryan said in somberness, he was tired, he was frustrated, he was lost.

"I understand," Greg said in comfort. Ryan then left the office in distaste and confusion.

As he entered his house, he found it desolate and soulless. He closed the door behind him and heaved a sigh, he wanted Carrie and Izzy, but it was early in the day, of course they would not be home. Ryan grabbed a tennis ball, lied down on the couch in the living room and stared at the roof. He began throwing the ball up in the air and catching it repeatedly, up in the air, catch, up in the air, catch.