Expensive Mistakes

Do Not Open Before Christmas

Tobi sat next to Mattias at a long table with the rest of their family.

Why didn't I just pretend I was sick? Tobi wondered, now regretting his decision.

"You look unhappy," Mattias observed.

"How perceptive," Tobias replied sarcastically.

"I know this place doesn't have the best memories, but it's still home."

Tobi rolled his eyes, not feeling like arguing with Mattias. Mattias continued on anyways. "Don't be like that. You can't possibly think you would have preferred growing up on the streets."

"There wouldn't be enough room on the streets for a family of twenty-six," Tobi scoffed. "Would they have stopped at the first eight?"

It was Mattias's turn to roll his eyes, but his face betrayed a hint of amusement. "I think octuplets would be quite a scare for a couple living on the streets," he said, stifling a chuckle of amusement.

Tobi nodded his agreement, his eyes flicking to each of his seven siblings that shared the same birthday as him. He briefly wondered why he was only close with Mattias.

A hush spread throughout the table and everyone dipped their heads as Lucas initiated a prayer from the head of the table.

Tobi thought of the events of his last dream instead of listening to his father's prayer.

This dream has been longer and filled up eight pages of his notebook. The figure in Tobi's dreams- whom he'd come to know as Mr. Edburt- has toyed with him longer that night.

Tobi fidgeted at the thought of what he endured every night in his sleep, earning him a nudge from Mattias.

The dreams had begun somewhere around the age of four. He remembered the first one vividly: a strange feeling had taken over him until he could no longer control his own body. He watched himself in horror as he took a thin, serrated knife and used it to stab Mattias, killing him.

He had woken up in the middle of the woods on the church's property. From that night on, he had dreams just as violent, vivid, and chilling, each time waking up in the exact same spot in the woods until he began locking the door.

He was about eight when he saw the room and Mr. Edburt for the first time. Tobi rarely went a night without visiting the room, and on the rare occasions he did, the dreams were far worse than anything Mr. Edburt had done.

The prayer ended and Tobi muttered a small "Amen," before picking up his fork and poking at the food on his plate.

"What's wrong?" Mattias asked, a concerned look in his blue-gray eyes. "You were fidgeting and you look as though you're about to throw up."

"I was just thinking about the dream I had last night," Tobi shrugged.

Mattias frowned. "You're not still having those awful dreams, are you?"

Tobi nodded, his throat tightening. He silently will his eyes not to tear up.

"Tobi, it's been nineteen years! You haven't sought a therapist or anything?"

"I write them down," Tobi offered.

"And does that help at all?"

"No..."

Mattias sighed sympathetically and gently placed a hand on top of Tobi's which was trembling slightly.

"You really should try to get some help," he said softly.