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Allie doesn't believe the car crash that caused her amnesia was an accident. She knows the truth...
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I HAVE A nightmare two days after the dinner party.
The first thing I register about the dream are the trees. They're everywhere, a deep green in color, looming over me as they stretch up to the starless night sky. A fog encompasses the woods, caressing my skin, weaving through branches and winding around tree trunks. My breath comes out in a cloud of smoke in front of me, and everything is quiet. Too quiet. There are no crickets chirping, no leaves rustling, nothing.
Something feels off about the night, but I can't put my finger on what it is. A twig snaps in the distance, and it strikes a cord of fear within me. I know I should run but I don't know why.
Springing into action, I dash in a random direction, my heart racing, limbs shaking as I step over roots and dodge branches. An indistinguishable voice calls out for me, and it sounds wrong, and distorted.
Quick footsteps follow behind me and I try to hasten my pace but I can't go much faster. My foot catches on a root, and I send myself careening to the ground with a yelp. I'm wounded momentarily, before remembering that I'm being pursued.
I drag myself further away from my unknown attacker, turning onto my back so I can see them coming.
They are merely a silhouette veiled in shadows, but in their hand, I see a blade glinting, and it causes me to whimper in fear.
"Please, no," I whisper, feeling a deep sense of dread.
Instead of respecting my wishes, they raise the knife up above me, tension throughout their arm.
"Sleep tight, Allie," they say, voice dripping with malice.
I let out a bloodcurdling scream as the knife plunges toward me.
And then I wake up, panting and in a sweat.
The contrast between reality and the dream is shocking, and in the darkness of my bedroom, it takes me a few seconds to decide which is which. I sit up quickly, my chest rising and falling at a rapid rate, and I flick on the lamp on the bedside table. It lights the room in a warm glow, helping me control my breathing, and I close my eyes, swallowing and running a hand through my hair. My throat closes up and my eyes prick with tears at how real it all felt.
Thinking of the nightmare, my eyebrows crease in a frown. Slowly, I curl my fingers around the hem of my tank top, pulling it up to reveal the bandage.
A stab wound.
The idea that I was in a car accident doesn't feel right to me, but I don't know why everyone would lie about it. A stab wound aligns with the injury a lot more, but is a thousand times more frightening. I let go of the shirt, letting it fall across my skin again, not wanting to look at the wound anymore.
Instead, I tuck my knees to my chest, wrapping my arms around them and preparing to stay awake for the rest of the night.
