Nightmares Consist of Dreams

Fright

Devi rubbed her eyes with her free hand as she started to paint a dark hallway on her canvas. Tenna was somewhere on vacation, so she was left alone in her apartment, and used the silence to focus on her paintings. She grabbed for another paintbrush on her table and started to paint, when she stopped. The paintbrush was fairly new. But the end of it was covered in a red substance, dried and turned dark. She decided that she must've spilled some paint on it from her previous works of art and continued. A few minutes passed, and her eyes started to grow heavy. She twitched awake, glancing at the clock on the wall. It read nine p.m. She dropped the brush on the table and walked over to her couch and sat down.

Devi couldn't sleep at night because of the panic attacks she'd been having lately. Usually, she gets one once in a few weeks. At first, she shook them off as paranoia, but then they slowly started to get worse. The last one she had, she actually thought HE was there to finally kill her. The terror she felt...

She decided to call one of her very few friends to take her out of her thoughts. She picked up the phone and started pushing numbers, and pressed call. The phone rang once. Twice. Three times. The voicemail clicked on.

"Hello, you've reached Matthew Sherman. If you have anything that's worth saying, say it." The soft beep of the voicemail came after.

She put the phone into the holder and laid down on the couch, not bothering to leave a message. She sighed, feeling sleep rub against her. Her arm absentmindedly slipped under the throw pillow as she felt herself nod off. She groaned, trying to stay awake.

Then she got up and stumbled to the kitchen, turning on the coffee brewer, inhaling the comforting smell of grounded beans, feeling a bit revived. She opened a cabinet and pulled out a mug. She settled in in the coffee machine, leaning her forearms on the cold linoleum counter.

Aside from the buzzing of the brewer, it was quiet in her small apartment. It was peaceful...

Yet lonely...

Devi sighed. She thought of trying to reach Matthew again, but came to the conclusion that he was probably busy.

She went to her room and slipped on her only pj's; a pair of boxers and a tank top. Then she left and walked down the small hall. Devi entered the kitchen and saw the brewer flashed a red light, indicating that the coffee was done. She pushed a button and steaming liquid poured out, falling into the mug with a satisfying splash.

She took the cup and cradled it with her cold hands, walking over to the couch and siting down slowly. Her hands lifted the cup to her mouth, the hot coffee burning her tongue slightly. She then placed it on the little table next to her, sighing in boredom. As Devi placed her feet on the edge of the cushion, she grabbed the throw pillow, hugging it against her bare legs. Her mind suddenly felt clouded by loneliness, wishing that someone was sitting next to her.

Dropping the pillow, she reached for the phone, hoping Matthew would pick up and talk to her. The feeling disappeared when she received the voicemail a second time. She smirked, dropping it in the holder once more.

'Maybe he's dead,' She thought amusingly... Then she paused, a look of concern passing her face... 'Maybe I'm right... Maybe he is dead... And maybe Johnny killed him out of petty jealousy.' She felt tears fill her eyes... 'And it would be all my fault...' She sniffled, wiping away the small tears. She never wanted this to happen; to go on a date with a 'nice' guy that ends up trying to kill her, and now staying inside her apartment 24/7 because of it.

She then felt a pang of guilt, remembering how she hurt Johnny like that after he tried to kill her. She shook her head, chuckling. 'Why would I feel guilty? He deserved it. He's insane!' she thought. Then she blinked, realizing another possibility.