Insomnia

37

Morning broke far too early for her comfort.

Esme blinked in confusion at the unfamiliar ceiling, until she remembered fleeing her home in the middle of the night. Her hand was still swollen, and it hurt about the same as it did yesterday. In the cold light of morning, Esme sat up in bed, and meditated. She concentrated on the pain, severing it from the rest of her consciousness. It was like applying the rules of the dream to real life. Intense focus could make suffering far more manageable. Another of her mother's lessons coming in handy. She took a deep, calming breath. It still hurt, but Esme felt like she could get out of bed.

She paced her way towards the kitchen, opening the fridge and retrieving some instant waffles from inside. After a few minutes, she sat down at the dining table, dropping pieces lazily into her mask's nutrient chamber.

She left her touchpad at her apartment. It would be too easy to track. So instead of scrolling through her social media, Esme sat and ate in silence.

Gentle light poured through the glass doors leading from the kitchen to Oz's backyard. She could see an old, padlocked, shed with a freshly mulched flower bed on its left side. Esme didn't like gardens. They felt unnatural.

"Papa," she had asked her father, long ago, when she was little, "why are those bots tearing up the flowers?"

Logan Trahan scrunched up his sweat-drenched brow. It was summer. Blue skies and hot sun. A few yard bots were systematically uprooting the swaying green of their lawn.

"Flowers? Those are weeds, May."

She shook her head and pointed to the yellow cradle-like buds that topped the thin stalks.

"Look like flowers to me."

Her father chuckled.

"Well, underneath the ground, those things have roots. And they'll drink up all the water. Water that our oaks need, or water that nicer flowers need."

"But they were here first!"

"Wouldn't you rather see bluebonnets out front, May?"

She thought about it.

"No. They don't belong here."

"Oh? Then where should the wildflowers go?"

She shrugged.

"Wherever they want."

Esme sighed as she finished her plate. Oz had every entertainment system known to man in his living room, but none compared to the thrill of Somnus.

This house was nice. But incredibly boring.

She pulled out a fresh change of clothes from her suitcase. Esme wrapped the back of her head in a long scarf, hiding her hair and covering her forehead. She found an old backpack in one of the closets and filled it was a few bottles of water, and an energy bar.

She knocked back more aspirin. Her arm was still a mess of bruises but she could move it more comfortably now.

Esme awkwardly laced up her boots, and walked out the front door. Oz had set her up with an untraceable dummy account for expenses if she needed. The man was startlingly well prepared.

The car dropped her off a mile away from her apartment. Any closer and she might run into the cops. Esme skulked her way along the sandy streets. There were a few more people out today. They moved awkwardly, slipping several times as they tried to cross the dunes. Esme steered clear.

She stopped in an alley facing her apartment. There was a police cordon blocking off the street. Esme could see several masked officers sternly guarding the entrance. No way she'd make it through.