Our Tainted Dream

Twelve: The One

A dream reality, reality a nightmare.

I flinch, waking up as a streak of pain crosses my arm.

Glancing around the room, I see no open windows, no muddy footsteps or a dislocated rug. Nothing but drops of blood coming from my arm, a wound newly made, clean like a cut from a knife.

I blink, glancing around to stop by a pair of green eyes that greet me, a knife in one hand and a rope in the other.

I almost fall off the bed as I blink once more, the sight of my brother gone. I look around, only to be greeted by another pair of green eyes. This one brighter, lit by anger and hatred, like a forest burning a fire of green.

Father grabs me by the throat, the both of us rolling over the bed. He straddles me by the shoulders, both knees pinning it down like nails as my head hits the hard wooden floor.

He strangles me, his fingers curling against my throat.

This time, when I blink, he disappears.

There's no cut on my arm, no dripping blood or fingers at my throat. All but my imagination. Like a dead ghost haunting my very being.

It's been one month.

Still, they never seem to leave my mind.

It takes me a while to get up, violently shaking as I try to stand, heaving breaths harder than ever. And as I stand, I can't help but hold on the nightstand, knocking over the small clock as I fall back down.

Dear god, Gray please don't come in.

I lay on the floor for a nice couple of minutes before deciding to stand once more, this time trying to not knock things over.

Slowly, I open the door.

"Reid, what was that?"

Gray stands in her pajamas, pastel blue with little pictures of lambs, her eyes wide in panic and worry. Seeing me dazed out, she grabs me by the shoulders, snapping a finger in front of me.

"I-I... I fell out of bed. That's all."

She grabs my trembling hands, examining it before pulling me towards the kitchen. "Nightmares?" She asks, pouring water in a glass.

"Aye," I murmur a half lie.

She hands me the glass of water, plopping down next to me on the couch. "You wanna talk about it?" She asks, staring at me as I attempt to drink, sighing as I fail due to my shaky hands.

"Not really, no." I breathe out, staring at the owl shaped wall clock hanging above the television. "I should make breakfast." I murmur, glancing once more at the clock, currently five in the morning.

"It's still early; maybe you should rest a bit more." She says gently, almost as if she were to speak too loud, I would run away.

"I don't think I'm able to sleep anymore now could I?" I laugh quietly, sighing as I lay back against the comfy leather.

We both it in silence for what seems like hours, constantly fidgeting with her hands. "Have you ever been to the beach?" She asks, taking me off guard as I let out an unintelligent "Huh?

"Oh, um... No, actually. Never.

"I've seen it once, though. In the family picture." Which I wasn't in thank you well damn very much. "How come you've never been to one when you've—Ohhhh...

"I'm uh, I'm sorry." She murmurs, shifting slightly away. "It's okay." I sigh, shifting closer to steal her warmth. Not that she minds—

Moving on.