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Allie doesn't believe the car crash that caused her amnesia was an accident. She knows the truth...
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"SLEEP TIGHT, ALLIE."
The words hang in the air, melding with the remnants of my scream, echoing throughout the woods. The sky is dark above me as I lay on the forest floor, among pine needles and tree branches. A nearly blinding pain has made a home in my stomach, spreading like wildfire throughout my body. Distantly, I can register the racing of my beating heart, and the fear wreaking havoc on my brain. Despite this, my eyes continue to stare at the empty sky, as dark figures loom over me, unidentifiable, like shadows.
Something bubbles up in my throat, curling upwards and spurting from my lips, warm and tasting like metal. I feel like my limbs are made of lead, rooted to the ground beneath me.
Desperately, I try to reach out to the closest figure, latching on to a piece of fabric. "Please," I manage to croak out, with an ugly voice that sounds nothing like me.
A hand encloses around mine, forcefully making me release my grip, my fingers falling limply to the ground again. The shadows murmur to each other, sounding displeased, and helpless tears flood my eyes.
"What now?"
"Bring her to the car."
Different hands clutch my ankles, pulling me along the dirty ground, and I try to dig my fingers into the soil beneath me to prevent them from taking me away. I try to scream, but it's no use, my voice is gone. My attempts to grab onto something to tether me in place are fruitless, and I can only weep silently as I writhe in pain, the debris sharp on my skin.
The dragging finally stops, and out of the corner of my eye, I can see the glare of headlights come to life. The fog seems to grow lower and lower, settling on my eyelids and shutting my eyes, paying no mind to the fact that I'm screaming on the inside.
I wake up gasping for air, gripping my comforter.
Sitting straight up, I run a hand over my mouth, checking for blood, relieved to see that it comes back clean. In the morning light streaming in from my small window, I breathe deeply, blinking as my bedroom comes into focus. It takes a second to realize there are tears streaming down my cheeks, though they've nearly dried, making my face feel stiff and sticky.
My history textbook lays open in front of me, stuck on a page about the Halifax explosion, and my laptop is also a few feet away, a word document open to a blank page. Rubbing at my eyes with trembling hands, I sigh, realizing I must have drifted off while doing my homework last night. I stick a scrap of paper between the pages to mark my place, then close both the book and the laptop.
I feel a slight chill on my spine, still haunted from the dream. I can almost smell the scent of the forest mixed with the scent of my own blood, and it feels far too real to be a figment of my imagination. The thought makes me reluctant to close my eyes, even for a second, afraid the images will come flooding back to torment me.
But I straighten my posture, sitting cross-legged with my hands placed firmly on my knees, closing them anyway, willing scenes of a car accident that never happened to enter my mind. It doesn't work. A deep dread settles in the pit of my stomach, part of me screaming to acknowledge that I've most likely been lied to, and the other part refusing to.
