February 29

Chapter 12

Dean was screaming in my ears to wake up. He was slapping me back and forth, shaking me roughly. So loud. So suddenly violent. My head started to throb, pulsing wave after wave of pain throughout my body. I felt as if I would explode in a mess of brain matter. I jumped up, breathing hard, gasping for sweet, sweet air. Dean stood over me and stared at me, his eyes wide in terror, his eyebrows raised up to an almost impossible angle. I expected him to ask what my problem is, like he always does, but he didn't. I didn't know how I would respond anyway.

"What happened?" I asked, my words slurred.

"You were talking in your sleep again!" he exclaimed.

"Talking in my sleep? What'd I say?" I asked, rubbing my head.

"You sounded like you were dying! You were shaking like you were having a seizure. You were yelling things like 'save me,' and 'no more,' and 'stop.'" He ran a hand nervously through his hair. "God. What were you dreaming about?"

"I..." I paused, suddenly confused. "I don't know. I don't remember."

"Goddamnit, Ethan!" Dean exclaimed. "How do you have a nightmare like that and not remember what it was about?"

"But..." I muttered.

Dean mumbled angrily to himself, cursing. "You crazy kid. I don't get you sometimes, you know that? Who has a dream that has them shaking, but doesn't remember it? That is what always gets people killed in movies. Killer dreams. That's right..."

"I can't, remember," I said, zoning him out. I closed my eyes, searching my mind for the recent memory. That was impossible. Completely impossible. I can't remember my dreams, but I could sure as hell remember my nightmares. I just had. I was just ready to tell Dean about it. but as soon as I was just about to express my dream, it, dispersed. Pieces of it floated here and there, but nothing was coming together. Even, despite all that, the most nerve-racking thing about it was that the dream felt like it was there, waiting for me. It felt like it was right on the tip of my tongue, but still...out of reach. I tried again to reach for it, capture it, but Dean's angry muttering wasn't making it any better. Out of nowhere, a surge of rage and fury hit me, a feeling so powerful that I was rocked on my seat.

"SHUT UP!" I screamed at him, silencing him in a heartbeat. For the slightest instant, I wondered why I was so angry. It wasn't that serious, not at all. But words were pouring out of my mouth in a wave, somehow not mine, but still from me, not me speaking, but a deeper, darker version of me. "SHUT UP! WHY ARE YOU SO LOUD? I CAN'T REMEMBER, OKAY? I JUST CAN'T FREAKING REMEMBER. TOO MUCH NOISE. IT HURTS! MY GOD IT HURTS. JUST SHUT UP," I tried to stop. I really did. I tried to bite my lip and close my mouth, but words were tumbling out, words that weren't mine. "OR I'LL KILL YOU."

What?

I shouted at the top my lungs, my vocal cords straining, my mouth drying. Dean took a step back, staring at me in awe. I stared back at him, hyperventilating, not knowing what to do, what to say, how to explain myself. "I...I..." I began, losing more and more of myself with each word. A sensation hit me. My stomach churned dangerously.

And with that, I leaned over to the side, grabbed my stomach, and threw up. An unrecognizable mesh of ravioli and meat sauce cascaded from my mouth. Dean cautiously approached me and put a hand on my back.

"I don't know what's wrong with you," he said softly, helping me up and handing me a paper towel from one backpack, "but it's really worrying me."

"What is?" I asked dumbly , wiping my mouth.

"Are you blind?" he whispered. "Two dog attacks one after the other? Muttering in sleep? Shaking like you're having a seizure? But most of all, you have random screaming fit. Ethan, you never scream. At anyone. Maybe," he shifted his gaze, "maybe we should just sit somewhere and wait this out."

"What?" I asked in outrage. "You mean, like, sit in a house and wait for everything to be sorted out? To be okay?" I shook my head in disdain. "That's not going to work, Dean."

"But think about it!" he exclaimed. "This is dangerous stuff that only seems to happen to the people who are out, not in. We need shelter. We need a place to stay. A place with light. Ethan, out here, it's dangerous."

I started to breathe heavily. My hands balled into fists, my previous fit of vomiting forgotten. I was suddenly given a drive to fight and argue and kick my thoughts into him. For some reason, I had the undeniable desire to get to the hospital, to get there and get it over with. Something was telling me, urging me, to get to the hospital at all costs, as if my life depended on it. I twisted my face into a glare that I had never used before, and, and I, I hissed at him.

"We will get to the hospital," I hissed, in such a deadly way that I surprised even myself. "We will get there."

"Come on, Ethan-"

In an instant, Dean words choked off and he went still. His eyes widened, then bulged. He grabbed silently at his throat, scrabbling at it with his nails. I looked in amazement as the cavity around his neck tightened, as if something were squeezing his windpipe shut. It looked like he was...was choking. His body started to convulse, jolting madly and so roughly that I was sure he was breaking some bones.

"Stop," I whispered, astonished into dumbfound petrification. Unable to move or act. My friend was choking on nothing. Dean's face started to pale, then turn blue. Why? Why? Why was it happening? What was causing it?

Was it me?

"Stop it!" I exclaimed at nothing. As if anyone would hear. As if anything could help him.

Dean rolled over. His eyes slid up and went blank for a moment.

"Please! Stop!" I yelled, hoping that someone, something could hear. A whitish, bubbly foam erupted from his mouth.

"You're going to kill him!"

Dean doubled over, got on his hands and knees, and inhaled deeply. He coughed raggedly and sank to the ground, breathing in fast, deep breaths. Wiped his mouth. Alive. I sighed in relief, rushing over to him and making him face me. Dean's eyes were closed, his face red, ominous hand marks around his throat. But from who, I had no idea.

"What the hell happened?" I asked quietly.

"I don't know," he said in between breaths. "Couldn't...couldn't breathe. Wouldn't let me." Dean turned sharply and stared at me with wide eyes. "Oh my god," he breathed. "I could have died just now."

I let out a shaky breath and tried to laugh. "I-I don't think it was that bad," I stuttered, waving a hand dismissively. I didn't believe that.

"No," he said seriously. "I could have. I felt it. It was like, like some thing was just squeezing my throat shut. I couldn't breathe. My nose. It felt like someone was pressing it shut. Ethan," he paused, collapsing on the ground, "something just tried to kill me."

"Why would it do that?"

"Why would I know?" he exclaimed, jumping up. He pushed past me and began to frantically stuff things into the backpacks - blankets, cans, lights, anything. "For once," he muttered to himself. "For once I want to get moving. It's not possible. You don't just suffocate out of nowhere. It must have been something. Maybe it was one of the dogs. Maybe it was masked so we couldn't see it. Maybe it was so quick that our eyes didn't catch it." His gaze flicked to mine. "But if you didn't do it, and I didn't do it, something else must have." He averted his eyes once again, looking around. "And maybe it's still here. What do you think?"

If I answered, I would have been lying through my teeth. I had no idea whatsoever, but a horrible thought hit me. I hissed at him, and when he continued to protest, he choked. I knew is was insane, but the idea struck me anyway, sinking me in an endless pit of guilt. Was it me doing this to him? Was I developing some kind of supernatural power?

I let out a laugh, earning a scowl from Dean. Yeah, because that would be a great power. Choking. No one would ever be in danger. I could save everyone with that. Using my super choking powers, I would help old ladies cross the street, and halt a bandit that stole some lady's purse.

I tried to joke it off, but somewhere, deep inside me, I knew that something had caused Dean to choke like that. Something that wasn't a dog, or a little kid. Something that might be even closer than I thought.