Risk and Rebel

10: TWO A.M. ON A TUESDAY

Everything was black.

I was holding my breath, but I couldn't remember why. I could feel my hands scrambling — reaching, gripping fabric ... then the fabric was pressed to my face and I took in short, fast breaths.

It only just then occurred to me that smoke was thick in the air, and then panic struck and I could feel my heart accelerate.

I couldn't see anything.

I couldn't— I couldn't—

A shout rang out in the space, and suddenly I was moving, ignoring the consuming panic in my mind.

Suddenly I was no longer surrounded by smoke nor darkness. No, now I could see the red hot fire, and just beyond it a silhouette . . . Fear consumed me, seizing my chest and stomach in a vice-like grip. I couldn't breathe, I couldn't move—

I bolted upright in my bed, gasping for air, eyes wide as I tried to reorient myself. Once my heart had slowed down some, I reached around and grabbed my phone off the nightstand. 2:03 shone up at me, and I scrubbed a hand over my face as I realized how early in the morning it was.

I hadn't had nightmares in ... well, a really long time. And my first instinct was to text Mickey, until I remembered she didn't even know who she was right now. But the idea remained, and my fingers hovered over her name in my messages app. After all, I tried to reason with myself, dissociative amnesia or not, she would still have her night owl habits, right?

That was when something else occurred to me. If she was awake and active, she'd have her light on in her room.

Still clutching my phone, I got to my feet and headed to my window. The moment I looked out, though, I could feel my heart beginning to race all over again. Not because the light was or wasn't on in Mickey's room, or anything stupid like that — but because she was climbing out of her window.

I would've shouted at her had I not remembered it was two in the morning. As it was I made a loud, strangled sound that resembled her name, right before she dropped.

I watched as she rolled into her landing, barely risking a glance up at where I stood, before she came to a complete pause. We both stared at each other, and despite the situation, her features still remained fierce and unashamed.

"Mickey!" I hissed as loud as I dared, watching as she straightened, her hands sliding into her jacket pockets. "What— what are you doing?"

Even in the moonlight, her eye roll was obvious. "Going out, obviously," she whispered, giving me an unimpressed look. "Don't follow me."

That was all she said before she began walking, and it took me a fraction of a second to decide to ignore what she said and follow her. I ran out of my room, clutching onto my phone as I jogged down the stairs. I did my best to stay quiet so I wouldn't wake Mom or the boys, but I felt I like couldn't move fast enough. Somehow, I knew her calm exterior was a façade. There wasn't a doubt in my mind that she'd disappeared the moment I'd lost sight of her, be it by running off, or some other impossible means.

Only Mickey, I thought, would dream up a character like this, and believe it to be herself.

The moment I burst through the swinging back door, I broke into a legitimate run. I sprinted around to the front of the house, slowing as I reached the front yard. I saw a silhouette in the distance, moving with surprising stealth in the shadows, and I forced myself to run faster.

I ran, not caring that I had forgotten shoes, not caring that I was in sweats with only my cellphone — not caring about anything except the fact that my best friend was sneaking out in the middle of the night. I made it two blocks before I lost sight of her completely, and only then did I slow groaning aloud and mentally kicking myself. Though I knew, realistically, there wasn't anything else I could've done ... jumped out the window? Yeah, right. It was a miracle she hadn't broken anything. Taken off after her in the car? If I had tried I wouldn't even have known which direction she went.