Nightmares from Within

by Jessica Prince

  “No,” I wept.

  “I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me. If you’re involved in this I need to know. You can trust me. I’ll do everything in my power to help you.” He went from frantic to sad. The expression on his face was one of heartbreak. He truly believed that I was somehow involved in the murders. It was easier to think that I was capable of something so horrible that it was to believe that it came to me in a vision.

  I didn’t even register my hand going up in the air and coming down on Jordan’s cheek until the loud crack echoed through the room. There was no mistaking my handprint as the red indentation on his face started to form. “How dare you!” I screamed. “How could you possibly think I’m involved?” It was my turn to pace his living room. “I was with you the night of Samantha’s murder. We were together from the moment you picked me up until you got the call. You know I wasn’t involved! I told you exactly how I know all of this. I’m not making this up, I swear.”

  He rose to his feet and stomped off in the direction of the kitchen. When he returned he was holding something in his hands that I couldn’t see clearly until he thrust it at me. “Then explain these,” he said in a tone so cold it actually caused me to cower. What he had just shoved at me almost slipped out of my fingers, but when I was finally able to get a good grip on it, I turned the burnt orange medicine bottle in my hand and read the label.

  “Where did you get this?” I asked on a whisper.

  “They fell out of your purse when you knocked it over on the bar. You expect me to believe that you have visions of people dying when you’re taking Thorazine? You’re on a goddamn antipsychotic, Taylor!”

  “I KNOW!” I yelled at the top of my lungs. “You think you need to remind me that I’ve been taking drugs my whole fucking life to suppress the images I see? I’m more than aware of that Jordan! But I’m telling you now, I’m not involved in these murders and I’m not fucking crazy. Cassie is next and I’m not going to stand here fighting with you when I should be out trying to help my friend.”

  I ran into the kitchen for my purse then started for the door. I’d just cracked it open when he came up behind me and slammed it shut, effectively trapping me between him and the door.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To help my friend since you won’t do it,” I replied as I tried to push him back.

  “Taylor…” he started, but I cut him off. I spun around and looked in those hazel eyes that I’d begun to fall in love with. The same eyes that made me believe that I could live a normal life just like everyone else. The light that I’d seen behind them was gone and the only thing reflecting back was doubt and concern. Doubt that what I was saying was true. Concern that I was insane. It was the same look I’d been getting from people my entire life and seeing it on Jordan’s face just about killed me.

  “We’re done,” I stated with as much finality as I could muster. “Whatever this was between us is finished. You made me believe that you were someone special. Someone who would have my back when everyone else in my life abandoned me the minute I needed them. You’re just like everyone else, Jordan.” With a final shove, I pushed him a few steps back from the door, yanked it open and did what I was always forced to do.

  I ran.

  The Past

  “Mr. and Mrs. Taylor, I’m sure you understand how serious the stories your daughter is telling are. We just can’t tolerate her going around telling other children that they’re going to die.”

  My father nodded solemnly at the principal, Mr. Whitaker, as he spoke.

  “Of course we understand, Mr. Whitaker, and I can assure you that we’ll be taking immediate action to rectify the situation. We’ve already scheduled Lydia to meet with a doctor to help understand why she insists on lying,” my mother replied, putting on her best concerned parent face.

  At seven years old I’d already figured out that there wasn’t a single maternal bone in her body, and that her demeanor was all an act for the outsiders. She was gifted at making people think that she and my father actually gave a damn about me, when in all honesty, they’d have been happier if I’d never been born at all.

  “Thank you so much for your prompt attention, Mrs. Taylor. I’m confident that you’ll be able to get Lydia in line.”

  I knew arguing with them would get me nowhere so I just sat in the corner with my head lowered and my hands clasped so tightly in my lap that my knuckles were turning white.

  “I promise you we will. Thank you, Mr. Whitaker.” With that, both of my parents stood and headed for the door. I followed behind them obediently, knowing that my punishment for embarrassing my mother would be even worse if I didn’t.

  “I can’t believe you did this to me and your father, Lydia,” my mother hissed under her breath as we pushed through the doors of my elementary school and made our way through the parking lot. “What kind of sick, twisted little shit makes up stories about their classmates being murdered?”

  “I didn’t make it up,” I mumbled through the knot forming in my throat as I tried to keep the tears at bay. Crying just made her even angrier.

  My mother spun on her heels and slapped me across my face, sending a flash of fire through my cheek. If I’d learned anything in my life, it was that I should never show any type of reaction to my mother’s physical abuse.

  “Yes, you did!” she yelled once we were far enough away not to draw any attention. “And I don’t want to hear another word about it. We’re going to see Dr. Lansing first thing tomorrow. You’re just as crazy as Marilyn.” My mother always sounded disgusted at the mention of my grandmother’s name. I used to wonder how a person could possibly hate their own mother as much as mine did, but as the years progressed and I got older I was quickly coming to understand.

  “What did I ever do to deserve having to put up with the two of you?” I could have listed so many examples but I was smart enough to know I needed to keep my mouth shut. “I won’t tolerate you embarrassing me the way she did.” She spun around to face me in the back seat, looking at the locket around my neck with disgust. “You’re never going to see that woman again,” she said coldly. “I’ll not have her putting these insane ideas in your head.”

  My mother was a woman of her word. I never saw my grandmother again. She was the only person who could have helped me understand what was going on in my mind, but she was gone. My mother cut off all contact and she died shortly after my twelfth birthday. The only reason my parents had a funeral for her was to keep up appearances. I spent the day of the funeral locked in my bedroom, mourning my loss by myself since I wasn’t allowed to attend. When people asked why I wasn’t there, my mother tearfully responded that it was because I was taking my grandmother’s death hard and she didn’t want to put me through any more pain.

  I was truly alone.

  I was forced to see Dr. Lansing once a week until I left home and moved to Seattle. Nothing about those sessions helped me in any way. He agreed with my mother and was convinced that I told lies to get attention.

  Then two months after my first vision, Jodi Harrington was abducted from her front yard by someone in a dark blue van. A few days later she turned up dead. It took weeks before the police found any leads into who could have kidnapped and murdered her. And once the truth came to light our picture perfect suburb was rocked to its core.

  Apparently Jodi’s uncle suffered from a mental illness and was sicker than anyone in his family was willing to believe. He was convinced that he was saving her soul from eternal damnation because she had been born with the devil inside of her. During questioning he confessed to killing her in order to save her.

  He never made it to trial. He had been in a psych hospital during trial preparation and the hospital staff found him dead in his room a week before the trial was supposed to start. He’d hung himself.

  My mother and Dr. Lansing were convinced that I didn’t have visions. They were hallucinations caused by schizophrenia and that what I saw and what happened to Jodi were merely co
incidental. I was immediately put on antipsychotic medication.

  People at my school couldn’t understand how I knew about what was going to happen to Jodi. Some were convinced that I was in some way involved, but seeing as I was only seven that was just ridiculous. Others jumped to the conclusion that I was insane. Once word spread about my medication I became an outcast. None of the children had anything to do with me unless it involved making fun of or harassing me, and the teachers just kept their distance, throwing nervous looks my direction whenever I walked by. The panic attacks only led me to becoming even more of a pariah than I already was.

  The visions never stopped, but as time went on, I realized that the medications helped to suppress them somewhat, so I stayed on them, never wanting the full effect of seeing the things that had already ruined my life.

  I ran out of Jordan’s apartment building like I was on fire. As soon as I cleared the doors I pulled my cell phone from my purse and frantically started dialing Cassie’s number.

  Voicemail.

  I hung up without leaving a message and called Benny’s. When she answered I asked if Cassie was there but when she told me no I hung up without saying another word and pulled up the web browser, quickly looking for the number for Dark. The person who answered informed me she wasn’t on the schedule for that night so I hung up and tried her cell again.

  Nothing.

  I was starting to lose it…heart beating a staccato rhythm. She was in danger and I couldn’t reach her. She wasn’t at either of her jobs so I did the only other thing I could think of. I jumped in my car and headed for her house. I didn’t know where else to go.

  It was the longest car ride of my life but when I finally pulled up in front of her row house I threw my car in park and jumped out, making a mad dash for her door. I pounded on the door like a mad woman, yelling her name as tears blurred my vision and rushed down my face.

  I’d just about given up hope when the front door swung open and a sleepy, yet worried looking Cassie stood before me. I launched myself at her and wrapped my arms around her neck as my panicked crying changed into relieved sobs.

  “What the hell, Taylor? Is someone dead?”

  I couldn’t hide the visible cringe at her words. “You weren’t…answering your…ph…phone,” I managed choked out between breaths.

  “Hey, hey. It’s okay,” she soothed as she pulled me into her house. “It’s all right, Taylor. I’m here. Everything’s going to be okay.”

  She pulled me over to the couch and sat with her arm around my shoulders as I continued to cry. “You’re really starting to scare me, Taylor. What happened? Are you hurt?”

  I tried my hardest to get a grip and calm myself down. When I finally thought I would be able to talk without having another meltdown I looked at Cassie and did my best to explain. “I don’t know how to say this to you without sounding completely insane.”

  “Just tell me, hon. It’s okay.” Her support gave me the strength to say what I needed to say.

  Her kindness was overwhelming. I wanted to lay it all out for her but I knew I couldn’t risk it. If there was a chance she’d disregard what I told her because she thought I’d lost my mind I would never be able to live with myself.

  “You’re in danger,” I finally blurted out, causing her eyes to widen and her spine to stiffen. “I can’t explain how I know this because it wouldn’t make any sense, but I need you to trust me,” I finished knowing that was asking a lot.

  “There’s someone out there that wants to hurt you and I think it may be someone you met at Dark. I haven’t seen anyone at the diner that gives me the creeps so that’s the only other place I can think of where he’d see you.”

  “You think someone’s stalking me?” I could tell she was starting to get scared by what I’d just admitted. “Who?”

  I shook my head weakly. “I don’t know. I know you probably have a million questions and I wish I could answer them, but I just can’t. I don’t have any of the answers myself. All I know is that someone wants to hurt you and I think you should take a vacation from Dark for awhile. Maybe you could go and visit family out of town or something? I’m so sorry, Cassie. I know I sound like a lunatic right now and you probably want to get as far away from me as possible but I need you to believe me,” I pleaded.

  She stared for several seconds, just watching me cry before giving me a slight nod. “Okay,” she finally replied.

  I was stunned. “Okay? You mean you believe me? Just like that?”

  She sighed and leaned back against the arm of the couch, pulling her knees to her chest. “I don’t know what to believe, honestly. No one wants to hear that they’re in danger but I’ve never seen you so freaked out in all the time I’ve known you. If you’re this upset then you obviously have good reason and I’d be stupid not to listen to you. So…yeah, just like that.”

  The tears broke free again and I went in for another hug. I knew I was squeezing her hard but I’d never felt so much relief in my life. “Too tight,” she wheezed. “Can’t breathe.”

  I released her and mirrored her posture on the other end of the couch. “So you’re going to take a break from Dark?” I asked needing to hear her say the words.

  Cassie gave a slight shrug before replying, “Yeah, why not. I’m exhausted anyway.”

  I gave a small laugh and repeated the words she’d told me. “A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do for Jimmy Choo.”

  She threw her head back and let out a loud laugh. “This is true but I think I’ve got enough pairs to last me a while.” All of a sudden her smile disappeared and was replaced with a serious expression. “I don’t think you’re insane, Taylor,” she said with so much conviction it warmed me inside. “I think you’re smart and funny and loyal, and I’m proud to call you my friend.”

  “I’m proud to call you my friend too,” I whispered.

  I come to and lift my head to look at my surroundings but all I see is black… dark, overwhelming black. I’m trying to recall what happened but my brain is sluggish and I’m having difficulty remembering. My shoulders ache but when I go to move them I can’t. My breathing picks up and I try to kick my legs but nothing happens. I try to shift and the feel of hard wood presses into my back.

  I’m on a chair. Or more to the point, I’m tied to a chair, but with what I don’t know. When I move my wrist to try and feel what’s securing me in place, nothing’s there.

  That can’t be right.

  If there’s no rope or tape, why can’t I move? My struggles stop when I hear the sound of a heavy door being pushed open somewhere behind me. My heart rate picks up and I find it difficult to breathe.

  All I can think is that I don’t want to die here, in this dark, dank room.

  Something hard and cold is pressing against the bare skin at the back of my neck and I shiver noticeably at the feel of it. Whoever is standing behind me continues to run it along my shoulder and down my arm. When the tip of it presses into my skin harder I realize it’s a knife.

  I try and move away from it but the effort is in vain. A deep chuckle sounds in my ear and I can smell the cologne of whoever is standing behind me. It’s familiar but I can’t place it.

  “You’re so beautiful,” the deep, gravelly voice tells me.

  Where do I know that voice from? I’m certain I’ve heard it before.

  “You’re not like the others,” he continues, making a chill of terror and disgust rush up my spine. “You’re strong, so much stronger than all the women before you. I thought they were meant for me but I was wrong. It was you. All this time, I’ve been waiting for you.”

  He makes a move with the knife and it feels like my invisible bonds are cut, freeing me to move my arms. He makes his way in front of me but I still can’t see his face in the darkness. He releases each ankle and pulls me to standing. I’m flush against his body and it takes all of my willpower to keep the bile from rising in my throat at his intimate caress.

  “You’re so different. So brave…s
o determined. We’re soul mates,” he whispers as he runs his nose along the line of my jaw. I can’t hold back the tremor that courses through me or the whimper that escapes my throat. I’ve never felt so full of terror and hate.

  “Tell me you love me,” he says as he licks the shell of my ear. Tears start falling down my face and I can’t hold back the sob that breaks through. “Shh,” he soothes. “Tell me you love me and I’ll let you go.”

  I know he’s lying. He’s never going to let me go. If I don’t fight I’m going to die here. I feel his hand reach up into my hair. Pain rips through my scalp as he wraps his hand around a large chunk of my hair and pulls roughly. “I said tell me you love me and I’ll let you go,” he hisses.

  I won’t do it. I’m not going to let my last words on earth be a lie simply to placate this psychopath.

  “No,” I say through clenched teeth. Before I can register movement, I’m sprawled across the damp concrete floor, the taste of copper in my mouth from my split lip and a throbbing in my cheek. I have to get out of here. Now is my only chance. I’m not bound to the chair or being held on to so I need to make a run for it.

  I push up and start for where I heard him enter minutes earlier, but he grabs hold of my arm before I can make it. I spin around and frantically swing my fist through the air. I can’t see where he is so all I can do is pray I hit my mark. From the sound of crunching bone and his loosened hold I know I have.

  My arm is released but before I can take a step he reaches for my ankle and pulls me to the ground. I let out a scream as I crash to the floor with a painful thud, feeling the painful snap of my ribs as some of them break.

  But I’m not giving up.

  I kick my foot out and connect with what I can only hope is his face. He yells out in pain as I push up, ignoring the stabbing agony in my side as I run for the door again.

  I’m at a wall, running my hands along the rough cinderblocks, looking for a latch…a knob…anything to get me out of this god forsaken room.