Shifting Greer's

Chapter 8//

Song: Headstrong by Trapt

//

"Greer, wake up!" Someone yells frustratingly into my ear. 

I bolt upright, covered in sweat and breathing heavily. I don't know where I am and I'm utterly confused. It takes a moment for my vision to clear. Hovering over me with worried blue eyes, is Kaleb Nixon. He's kneeling beside the couch with one hand still on my shoulder. 

"Whoa, there." He tries to calm me, a frown set deep in his lips. 

"What happened?" I asked, running a shaking hand over my face. 

"You had a nightmare. You were screaming." He explains.

Gosh, I wish it was only just a nightmare.

"You okay?" He asks, squinting his eyes in concern. 

My senses come fully back now and I can smell the chicken nuggets. I ignore his question and stand to my feet. My wobbly knees carry me into the kitchen where the tray of steaming nuggets is setting on top of the stove. I slept through the timer. Kaleb must have pulled them out. 

I find two plates and start dishing out the chicken. I hand Kaleb his, pour BBQ sauce on both our plates, and make myself comfortable again in the living room. I'm acutely aware of how Kaleb is staring at me, but I can't talk to him right now. 

I didn't want him of all people to witness what happens when I fall asleep. Every single time I close my eyes that night comes back to haunt me. It replays in segments until the memory finishes and then repeats itself the next night. Repeatedly. 

The psychologists prescribed me sleep medicine, but I hate taking the pills. I hate sleeping. I try to keep myself awake long enough at night to fend off the nightmare, but I can never get rid of it. Every time I close my eyes it runs like a movie that won't shut off. 

I flip through the channels to keep my eyes and fingers busy. I can't look at Kaleb right now. He still watches me, I'm very aware of that. I wish he'd quit. He's barely touched his chicken on his plate, but I haven't either.

Moments later, Kaleb catches me off guard by swiping the remote controller out of my grasp. He flips the TV off and turns to stare at me. "Excuse me!" I yell at him, finally making eye contact. "I was watching that!"

"You weren't watching anything." He counters. "You were flipping annoyingly through the channels."

"It's called channel surfing." I set my plate down and cross my arms over my chest. 

"You cannot just act like that didn't happen, Greer." He shakes his head. "You were screaming in your sleep." 

"It was a nightmare, chill." I snap. 

"Well, it freaked me out and I want to know why it happened!" He yells back. 

"It was nothing!" I'm hoping he can see the pleading in my eyes.