Nightmares

I trace the outskirts of his hands with my finger tips, and my pupils fixate on every precious movement he makes. He is dreaming and I hope he dreams of me, although it’s most unlikely. Am I dreaming? No this is too real. I know this to be evident because everything in this room reflects him as a person. Band posters, the plain white sheets strewn across his bed, clothing (both dirty and clean) scattered across the floor. It’s too good, this isn’t a dream. I’m staring at the very creases of his lips, and as every time I’ve seen him, they look absolutely beautiful when the light pours onto them. Did he invite me over last night? What does it matter, I’m here right? I’m half naked, sunken, into this beautiful creatures mattress and I’m questioning how I got here. The Man, boy rather, that I’ve drempt of since middle school is sleeping right next to me at this very moment, and I’m inquiring as to how I came into his quarters? I’m too stupid for my own good sometimes.
Stop Sara, you’re living your dreams. All those nights of caressing your pillow and pretending you were holding onto this boy, they weren’t just dreams. You just fulfilled them. Well, a little more than fulfilled. Kudos to me.
The street light from outside creeped it’s way through the blinds and found it’s way across his bare back and the sheets. Once again, I thought this was just too good to believe. I had to restrain my hand from pinching myself, this wasn’t a dream I wanted to wake up from. What I did need though, was a cigarette. I didn’t know exactly what was going to happen between us after all this, and it was beginning to trigger my want for nicotine. I don’t know how, but a boy who barely knew me slept with me, probably never speak to me again, could feel ok. Yet I know his entire life from simply staring at him from a distance through middle and high school,and this situation is beginning to eat at me.
Stop Sara, go smoke your cigarette.
I quietly sit up to the best of my ability, yet his bed springs still let out an obnoxiously loud groan. I grabbed a large t-shirt from the floor, throw it on, and make my way to the balcony. His small, bachelor pad, of an apartment has the luxury of wooden floorboards, yet it looks like it’s been about a year since anyone has at least swept. The aroma of the apartment seems to be B.O. and axe, but it didn’t take me too long to figure out that it was just the shirt I was wearing. Honestly though, I woudn’t be surprised if that was just the natural odor of this hot mess home. Counters, tables, and furniture look like they’ve been decorated with dirty dishes, cigarette butts, and dog hair. This part I wish had been a dream. I must have really been drunk earlier to not have noticed any of this when I first arrived. I cracked open the sliding glass door and the mildly cold, blissful, atmosphere of the balcony welcomed me. I stretched and reached for my cigarettes I’d left out there from earlier on the ledge. I slip a cigarette between my lips and come to realize I forgot my lighter. Nothing is more frustrating.
I open the sliding glass door, step back onto the dust encrusted floorboards, and make my way back into his room. I don’t even make it to his hallway though before I feel like something isn’t the same. The house seems different, empty, unnerving. As I make my way down the hallway, I can see through his doorway, that he’s no longer in bed. A little startled, I stop in my tracks.
Stop Sara, he’s probably in the kitchen, or the bathroom. Either way, I need my lighter. I briskly walk into the room and scan for the baby blue lighter I had just bought earlier. The light that once looked lovely upon my sleepy dreamboy, now seemed to be slightly eerie. I begin to rush, I could really use that cigarette. Rummaging through piles of clothes, I become conscious of the fact that I had left it in my purse sitting on his lazy boy chair. Goosebumps raise although I only take a few steps from the bed pick my purse up from the lazy boy.  ’Wallah’, the lighter is right there. Out of sheer habit, I flick it on and like every time, the flame seems to amaze me and a small smirk raises on my face. All seems to be right again and I flick it off, but strangely out of the corner of my eye, something odd seemed to appear. I flick it on once more. It’s my shadow, it’s abnormally large and is becoming larger. Warm air reaches down my back, and my instincts tell me to turn around.
My eyes can’t be processing this. This isn’t real. “Donnie?!”, I scream out of confusion and utter terror. Did I mention his name was Donnie? It is him, and his flesh is literally crawling from underneath. His once beautiful lips have turned cracked and the sides of his mouth are now ripped fully from side to side leaving his jaw limp and hanging. Donnies arms and legs are moving and cracking as if he is shattering his bones with every step he takes. Stricken by fear, I am paralyzed and it doesn’t take more than a few seconds for him to grab me. Dear God, the stench that’s coming from his skin makes the t-shirt I’m wearing smell like roses. I want to cry and throw up at the same time, but my body only allows me stare in disbelief. He is an absolute monster and it’s sadistly comical that once again, I cannot seem take my eyes off him.
His nails dig into my shoulders, and his eyes begin to roll into the back of his head. Large sores begin to appear all over his body. Donnie, the boy I’ve loved since the 6th grade was touching me in every way I did not want him to touch me. Although he was a crippled mess, whatever seemed to have possessed him gave him incredible strength. Donnie snatched me up like a human does to a small dog and gripped me tight. Shaking profusely, I knew that moment I wasn’t going to make it out of this apartment alive tonight. He let out a low, raspy, moan type “Saaaraaaa”, as I was held still as a statue by his disgustingly crooked arms. And right before he threw me against the wall, I broke my neck and died, I thought
“well, at least he knew my name.”