“You know, Caitlin, you’re not being very helpful,” my mother’s disembodied voice said from the darkness. I whimpered as a worm slid between my toes. “Why don’t you want to help?”
“What do you want from me?” I screamed, and then closed my mouth immediately as a centipede scuttled over my jaw, running across my lips. I shook my head violently and it flew off.
From the bright light overhead, a dark shape slowly descended. I watched in horror as it neared to within three feet and stopped, suspended by hundreds of IV tubes. Finally, I could see that it wasn’t an it—it was my mother, wrapped in a copy of the same green velvet quilt that was tucked around me. She was also quite obviously dead. As I watched, patches of her hair fell off and landed on my face. I shook them off violently, but strands got stuck to my eyelashes.
Her jaw moved to form words. “You let my bones change, Caitlin. You let this happen.”
“You’re not my mom,” I whimpered as the cockroaches began flitting against my arms and crawling against my rib cage. A legion of centipedes had found their way under the quilt and were congregating over my stomach restlessly.
“You let this happen,” she said again, inhumanly loud and deep in the darkness. “You let the worms eat my body.”
“I was sixteen!” I screamed up at her. “What was I supposed to do?”
The plain, milky eyes flickered white and burned down in my direction.
“Feed me.”
The bugs went into a frenzy. I clenched my teeth together so hard my jaw ached. I would not scream.
“You let the worms and the beetles and the crawling things destroy me. And now it’s your turn.”
She smiled at me, sick and dead.
And then her body disintegrated in a flood of centipedes, beetles, cockroaches, and worms. I barely had time to close my mouth before they landed, covering me in a seething mass so thick I couldn’t breathe.
I came awake more quickly this time, and I think it was because I had literally been holding my breath while asleep. I shoved the blankets aside and scrubbed my hands over my body, trying to get rid of the bugs. I swore I could hear them scuttling against my sheets, crawling in my hair, my clothes.
It took a full minute before I realized there was nothing there. I turned my lamp on anyway to check. Nothing. And yet I could still feel thousands of little legs slithering across my skin. I even picked up my pillow to make sure there was nothing behind it. I reached for my phone to check the time.
It was two in the morning.
*
“I know girls don’t like to be told this, but you look tired.”
I’d climbed into the truck and immediately used Adrian’s shoulder as a pillow, which was far more comfortable than it had a right to be.
“I had another nightmare,” I mumbled. I could feel the muscles in his arm flex as he gripped the steering wheel.
“Same dream?”
“No. This one had worms.”
“Worms?”
I nodded against his sleeve. “And centipedes and cockroaches.”
He grabbed my shoulders and pushed me up for a moment so he could tuck me under his right arm. I leaned the back of my head against his chest and almost zonked out right there.
“Was this the same place?” he asked, starting down the driveway.
“Nope.” I held on to Adrian’s arm like a second seat belt across my stomach.
“Why didn’t you call?” He didn’t sound angry, just concerned.
“What could you have done?” I mumbled, on the edge of sleep. “They’re dreams. I just have to”—I interrupted myself with a yawn—“to get through it.” I looked up at him. “But these aren’t just nightmares. I know they’re not real, because when I wake up, nothing about me has changed. But they’re real while they’re happening. I don’t know how, but they are.”
I expected him to tell me I was overreacting, that I was being stupid, that I needed to calm down. But he didn’t.
“Cait, if it happens again, I want you to call.”
“Why?”
“Just humor me.”
“All right,” I mumbled, and turned my face against him arm, falling immediately asleep.
I stumbled through classes the rest of the day and used Adrian as a pillow again during study hall. He insisted we spend the afternoon at my place and I didn’t argue (possibly because I fell asleep again once we got inside the truck). When we got to the ranch, I drank a couple cups of coffee and perked up enough to get through some homework. By the time dinner hit, the caffeine was wearing off; Adrian had to keep nudging me under the table to make me stay awake. As I said good-bye to him at the door, he gave me a hug and whispered in my ear.
“Remember, call me if it happens again.”
I nodded into his shoulder. He kissed my cheek and let me go, heading out the door. I went to my room, started a fire in the fireplace, checked Facebook, and played three games of Bubble Guppy Explosion.
Finally, I ran out of energy. After brushing my teeth and throwing on some sweatpants, I stared at my bed. Somehow, it seemed ominous. I climbed unhappily under the covers. My room was warm, my bed was soft, my limbs were heavy.