Keeping Secrets (Book 1)

Chapter 3: Nightmare

"Please, Dyl. I need a ride home and I can't let Mom and Dad know."

I sighed, getting out of bed. It was almost one in the morning. I should have been sleeping. "Fine," I muttered, grabbing my shoes. "I'll be there in ten minutes. You better be waiting for me outside when I get there."

"Oh, you're the best, brother!"

I hung up the phone, not wanting to listen to Jenny's drunken giggling any longer than I already had to. I wish I had known she was going to be drinking before she left tonight. Then maybe I would have made sure to not be asleep when she called me to pick her up. At least she was still responsible enough to call me. I didn't need her or trying to drive drunk.

I crept out of my house, careful not to wake my parents up. I'm sure I wouldn't get in trouble if they saw me leaving, but Jenny would definitely be in trouble if they knew she was out drinking. She wasn't legal yet.

It wasn't long before I was pulling up in front of the address Jenny had given me. She was immediately crawling into my front seat, smelling like too much alcohol and giggling loudly.

"I had so much fun tonight," she slurred.

"Put your seat belt on," I told her. I wouldn't leave until she was buckled in. That was a rule I made sure to enforce in my car, especially for drunken sisters at one in the morning.

Eventually, she got it on, with some help from me. Man, she was completely wasted. I didn't even want to know how much she had to drink.

We were about halfway home when Jenny spoke again. I had honestly thought she had fallen asleep before she spoke. "I met this great girl," she said. "You'll really like her. I gave her your number."

I sighed. "Jenny... I'm-"

I never got to finish my sentence. I don't even know what I would have said. 'I'm gay'? 'I'm dating Travis'? 'I'm not into girls'? Anything along those lines? Would she have even remembered it in the morning?

The pickup truck coming the opposite way down the street served into my lane. There was nothing I could do except sending my car off the road into the ditch.

I jerked awake just before my car hit the tree that killed my sister. I sat up in bed, gasping for air. I haven't had a nightmare that bad in a few weeks. I thought they were getting better.

Deciding I couldn't stay in bed any longer, I grabbed my crutches that I always kept under my bed for when I didn't want to put my leg all the way on. Tonight was one of those times, since I just really needed a glass of water right now.

I was halfway down the hallway when I noticed the faint sound of the TV on in the living room. I sighed, knowing my dad was home. Hopefully he would be asleep on the couch, having drank too much again. But when I heard his low chuckle, I knew I wasn't so lucky.

I kept heading for the kitchen anyway, hoping I could sneak by without gaining his attention. I didn't want to have to deal with him right now, in the middle of night. He was my living nightmare.

The light clicks of my crutches hitting the hardwood floor of the hallway seemed to echo throughout the relatively quiet house. And of course, it was just loud enough for him to hear.

"Come 'ere, boy," he said, loudly.

I sighed, but heading to the living room anyway. I knew he'd only get angry if I ignored him. "Hi, Dad," I said from the doorway. I didn't want to go any further.

"It's the little crippled murderer. What are you doing up?"

I ignored the insult. "I could ask you the same thing," I said instead before glancing at the time on the cable box. "It's one thirty in the morning."

"Ain't I allowed to watch some damn television in my own home, boy?" He waved around a mostly empty bottle of beer as he talked, slurring his words. These nights were always worse than when he decides to sleep in his office.

I shook my head and turned myself around. I only wanted a glass of water. That's the only reason I came out here.

Thankfully, he didn't seem to notice me taking my exit, even with the loud clicking of my crutches. The only benefit of him being drunk right now.

I knew he hated me. He has ever since the accident because - according to him - I killed his precious little girl. I had always known I wasn't my dad's favorite child, but the accident just proved it. He blamed me more for her death than I did.

A few minutes later, I was sitting at the kitchen table with my water. The cold glass felt really good between my hands. I just wanted to sit here, not wanting to go back to sleep any time soon.

In the relatively dark kitchen, Jenny's words from earlier this evening came back to me, as if to make me feel worse. Something bad's coming. She hasn't come back since she told me that. I knew I shouldn't expected to have seen her again tonight - ghosts seem to have their own schedules - but I couldn't help the feeling that there was a reason she hasn't come back yet. It didn't help that I hadn't seen Grandma either, so I really had no one to talk to about all of this.

I don't know how long I was sitting there, but it was long enough for my water to start getting warm and Dad to manage stumbling his way into bed, hopefully without waking Mom up. I still wasn't tired, but I knew I needed to sleep, since I had to go to physical therapy in the morning. I needed as much energy for that as possible, yet I could already tell that that wasn't going to happen.

I eventually made my way back to my room, knowing that was my best chance of at least trying to sleep. But when sleep didn't come - at nearly three o'clock - I texted Travis, needing someone to talk to. 

I didn't even know if he'd be awake, although he probably wasn't. I laid in bed, clutching my phone to my chest, waiting for his reply.

I fell asleep before finding out if he was going to answer me. This time, I didn't have another nightmare.