With still-blurry vision, I saw the large shape reach for me. I tried desperately to make out their face, but it was obscured by shadows. All I knew was I was scared, beyond scared… terrified.
“No!” I gasped, trying to swim backward, away from the hand.
With a grunt, the hand fell away, agitation making them move in quick, jerky actions. The water was dark and endless looking, but not as scary as the person trying to grasp me.
I swam back, my arms screaming with exhaustion, but I moved anyway, taking any amount of distance I could muster.
Suddenly, the shrouded person grew larger, as if he stood and was portentously trying to reach me. He couldn’t; I was just out of reach of his dire grip. He hunched around, still concealed in darkness, and rose, something extending above his head. Something long and thick…
Water pushed against me, and I fought against the waves. The lake betrayed me, though, a sudden current shoving me nearer the person.
“No!” I screamed as the long, thick weapon was brought crashing down over me. I stopped treading water and threw my hands up to protect my head, the movement causing me to slip a little under the surface.
The heavy sound of wood slapping against water echoed, and the numbing pain sent me downward.
I was floating again, once more supported by the water as if the lake couldn’t decide if it was friend or foe.
Arms wide, legs bent, I stared out at the darkness claiming me and slowly drifted away.
My gasp was so forceful it lifted my back off the mattress. Gripping the sides of the bed, I pushed up, sucking in air as if I hadn’t breathed in days and trembling like a leaf ready to fall from a tree.
The clammy feeling of my skin was uncomfortable, but the way the dream lingered inside me was worse. Was that what death felt like?
Heaving a shaky sigh and noticing how my fingers ached from gripping the bed, I released them and shoved the blankets off my overheated skin. Cool air brushed over them and goose bumps raced along my skin.
I reached for the water at the bedside, only to find the cup empty. Being in bed was massively unappealing at the moment, so I pushed out, my bare feet slapping against the cold floor. Shivering, I carried the cup into the bathroom to fill it up.
It was pitch black, something that frankly creeped me out, so I flicked on the harsh overhead light and recoiled from the intrusive brightness. Still squinting, I drank from the cup, some of the tepid water dribbling down my chin as if my mouth forgot how to work.
What managed to get in me burned as it went down, as if the water stretched the constricted muscles in my throat. The cup made no sound when I set it on the porcelain sink and wiped at my chin with the back of my hand.
More accustomed to the light now, I caught my reflection in the mirror. I’d barely looked at myself since I woke up here. I didn’t like looking in the mirror much because I didn’t recognize the person I saw.
It was scary to know you saw yourself but also know if no one had told me this was me, I wouldn’t have realized.
My hair was thick and wavy, a dark blond that hung unevenly around my face and over my shoulders. It was something else I found incredibly curious when I did dare a glimpse. Why was it so uneven with chunks missing here and there? My eyes were light brown, plain… and to me, mysterious. These eyes had to have seen so much, yet they kept it secret.
My skin was pale, nearly colorless. I’d likely look dead if it weren’t for the light-colored freckles that spattered my face. My teeth were slightly crooked, and upon closer glance, the front right one was chipped.
A sound out in the bedroom drew me up short, the heavy wooden door closing. Nervous energy crackled through me. My fingers, still shaking from the nightmare, trembled even more. Quickly, I hit the light switch, plunging the room back into total darkness. I stood there trying to hear over my own erratic breathing for any other unusual sounds.
Muffled footfalls moved nearby.
I bit down on my lower lip, blindly reaching out for the cup of water.
I waited what seemed like forever, but no other sound came. Just as I was beginning to think I was being overly paranoid, the sound of the latching door echoed through the room once more.
I jerked as if shot, my back coming into contact with the cold bathroom wall.
Someone had been in there!
I knew instinctively it wasn’t a nurse. They rarely came into my room in the middle of the night, and if they did, they most certainly didn’t creep around like ghosts and not check the bathroom to make sure I was okay.
Who was that?
The looming figure from my nightmare flashed into my head. It was more a moving of shadow, darkening my thoughts because I hadn’t actually seen anyone in the dream.
Without thinking, I took a sip of the sink water, my heart still near to beating out of my chest. Down in the cup, the liquid sloshed around because of the way I quaked.
“You’re being ridiculous,” I told myself. “You had a bad dream, and it freaked you out.”
Just another reason I hated lying in bed. I’d had enough sleep to last me a lifetime.
The bathroom door swung out when I pushed it open and shuffled back into the room. Light from under my door spilled in from the hallway as well as from the small rectangular window.
I saw a nurse hustle by and on down the hall, and I let out a sigh of relief.
See? Everything is fine.
My knees were shaking on the way back to the bed, holding the cup in one hand and leaning on the pole of the IV stand with the other. I couldn’t wait to get this thing out of my hand. They said it would be soon.
At the bedside, I set down the cup and glanced at the blankets with derision. Another person moved down the hallway, dimming some of the light filtering in from beneath the door.
With one knee on the mattress, one hand balancing on the IV pole, I prepared to heft myself the rest of the way into the clammy, damp-feeling sheets.
I never made it.
A hand clamped around my ankle as it lifted off the ground, and I shrieked, instinctively pulling to get away. The grip tightened, and I felt the pressure from strong fingers molding around my bones.
“No!” I gasped, but it was too late. The arm pulled me with so much force I fell backward off the bed.
The IV pole came with me, lifting off the ground and hitting the tile beside me.
Pain echoed in my back and shoulders as well as a dull ache in the back of my head. As I tried to scramble up, another hand shot out from beneath the bed and latched onto my other ankle.
I began kicking and opened my mouth to scream.
Instantly, the body catapulted out from beneath the bed, releasing my ankles, and I turned to rush away. The figure tackled me. My fingers griped the dark, thick fabric of the hoodie concealing their body and face.
A gloved hand covered my mouth, pressing down so hard the back of my head hurt where it rested on the floor.