The Phantom of Scranton Hill

31

That night, she had another nightmare.

Bodies were being pulled from the overturned car, the flames rising with each second. Bloodied and bashed, Death corrupted each and every one of them, stealing their memories, draining the life from their eyes. Two bodies lay lifeless on stretchers, the driver recovering in the hands of a paramedic, a shock blanket around his shoulders as he trembled in terror. There was one body unaccounted for. The driver's younger brother was missing, a trail of blood disappearing through the forest of trees a block away.

The scene changed.

His hands pushed her roughly against the brick wall outside the school. Rap music filled her ear, the stench of cigarette smoke and alcohol staining her sense of smell. He laughed wickedly. Coarse fingers created a ring around her wrists, holding them above her head as his satanic lips trailed her neck, leaving burns wherever he touched. Fear spread through her body as she relived it over and over again. She felt a scream develop as it rose in her throat, but she was tongue tied. Paralyzed as she breathed, pinning her eyes shut and begging herself to wake up.

Again, it changed.

She sat in a room, all metal. Two empty chairs sat opposite each other, a steel table between. A man appeared in front of her, his beard grown from the lack of shaving. Her father. His hands were cuffed to the table, his eyes gray and desolate. Insanity consumed his brain as he screamed, "Find the Futuresight before it's too late!"

Once again, the pictures switched.

Charlotte sat atop a mound of dirt, a tombstone at her feet. The wind grew strong, snapping her hair in all directions. Yet, she remained calm, her eyes glowing an eerie purple as she chanted in the graveyard. Bodies around her began to rise as zombies, ripped clothing and detached limbs crawling alongside the raised dead.

Then Dax appeared. They were kissing in the closet. He stepped forward, forced her to back up until she hit the wall. He pushed up against her body, attacking her lips as bells rang throughout the speakers. They didn't care. Her hands traveled to his hair, pulling softly as he groaned lowly. His fingers played with the hem of her shirt, slowly lifting it as his warm hands grazed her stomach.

Next, she was liplocking with her pillow. She sat in a hospital bed, the bright moon glistening against the glass window. The ground began to shake. Scenes flickered before her eyes and she jolted up, awake, as she felt someone shaking her shoulder.

Justine's hair was slick to her face with sweat, her heart rate increasing exponentially as she tried to distinguish the difference between the dream and reality. Someone beside her tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, whispering and breathing soothingly.

Justine looked to her right. Daxius gave her a small smile as if to say 'Everything will be okay.' "Do you want to talk about it?" he asked, his voice hoarse and husky, a sign he had just woken up as well.

Did I wake him? She felt guilty at the thought.

She shook her head and he sighed before scooting closer to her. "Come here," he said in a low voice, careful not to wake her mother. She did, hiding her face in his clothed chest as he stroked her hair gently, lulling her back to sleep.

Justine's alarm clock buzzed, waking them both up once more, though she was less groggy. He groaned as he fell off the bed from the sudden sound, Justine laughing hysterically at his laziness.

When she entered the kitchen, a sticky note was taped to the counter. "I had to go to work early, signed mom. P.S. There's a stack of blueberry pancakes on the counter if Daxius is hungry." She stopped reading. "How the heck did mom know? Does she have some strange super power that tells her what her daughter is doing every second of every day?" Justine yelled at the sky, at anyone who was listening.