The Young Woman and You (the Drone)

Chapter 7

When your eyes fly open, your heart is already in your throat and beating a mile a minute.

Oh no is your first thought. Oh no, I'm screwed.

That was Scana's dream.

Why did you have to see that kind of dream?

A dream about the past. Scana's past. Her past...

While you're still stiff with shock, the sound of rustling sheets hums from your speakers. Although the screen is dark, you can imagine Scana waking up, the boundary of reality and dreams blurring what's real in her mind. But she knows- the thought of someone else is in her mind- and she turns over, reaching for the lamp-

*click*

The screen brightens, showing a dimly-lit, sparshly-furnished room. And Scana, her hand still on the lamp's drawstring, looking at you. You flinch.

The nightcap has fallen off her head and her hair is wild from sleep seemingly (you wouldn't know if she was a fidgety sleeper. You were too busy looking at her dreams after all). Orange strands fall over her face so that it's hard to make out her expression. You brace yourself, expecting scorn narrowing her eyebrows, a new distrust shimmering over her eyes, and a scowl ready to tear into your throat but-

Scana takes back her hand and straightens up, feet moving to touch the floor. The look on her face is puzzled, mouth slightly open in... surprise?

"Did you see it?"

The words fall from her mouth quietly, barely audible, but in this room where the sound of rain doesn't echo any more, you can hear it.

"Did you see my dream?"

*CLATTER*

You're suddenly standing, hands slammed flat on your desk. Your breaths come hard and fast but your heart is thudding against your chest faster. You're on your feet as if you're about to fight her words - say something that'll make things better - but you have no words or the confidence to say them.

And you've still replied. Without giving yourself the chance to speak, you've already confirmed her answer.

Scana's sigh echoes around the room.

She stands up. You sit back down.

You scramble for words, for an apology, as she shuffles forward. You flinch when she approaches you but she walks past without a glance in your direction.

Way on the other side of your screen, she stops in front of the balcony doors, turns the doorknob, and disappears outside.

Seconds pass and you still sit there, staring at the screen. You keep sitting there until some reflexive motion moves your hand, trying to bring it up to your face, and your elbow knocks a pile of books sitting somewhere on your desk. The noisy clatter the books makes when they fall into a heap finally shocks your thoughts into motion.