𝐩𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 ━ transformers

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐰𝐨

My dreams (nightmares) that night are plagued with hazel eyes that dim too quickly and thick crimson that mixes with rain and tears and everything in between. It's the same dream (nightmare) that I always have and I can hear myself screaming at myself, at him, at everyone. I scream at him through the raging storms to stay awake, tell him he's going to be okay, but it's futile and we both know it.

When his eyes finally lose all the light they had, I'm falling, soaring through a black void with nothing to hold onto. I fall and fall and keep falling, my voice hoarse as I scream for anyone--anything--to help, and I can feel death approaching, can almost feel myself hitting the the hard ground below me.

But a hand reaches out of the void, almost lighting up the darkness that surrounds me, and it catches me, latching onto me assuredly.

And suddenly the black veil is lifted and I can see.

What's above me is bright and luminescent and I think it's the sun, but it's not. It's something more tangible, something closer to me. And my vision is blurry and I know I'm crying and I'm so tired, wish I could go to sleep. But the hand is still around me and there's whirls and beeps and I don't understand because I'm supposed to be dead, was supposed to die long ago.

I can feel myself be set down and there's another whirl, another beep and an agonizing pain in my side. The last thing I can make out are eyes bluer than the sky themselves and then my screams die out and my body goes limp.

The sky is dark when I erupt from my dream, body damp with sweat and heart racing in my chest. I breathe in deeply, try to calm it, but it doesn't work. My stomach is in knots and I count to ten, count the fingers on my shaking hand. When I can finally breathe a little easier, can see a little better, I sigh out, falling back into my pillows.

Alfonzo sleeps to the left of me, curled up and whimpering in his dreams. I leave him in bed, throwing the covers off me and going over to my dresser to get some clothes. I pick out a grey hoodie and some leggings, grabbing my undergarments and walking into the bathroom.

It isn't even five in the morning yet, but I feel awake as I let the hot water scald my back. The sweat washes off of me and I feel much better when I pull the curtain back and step out minutes later. I dry off and try not to think about the dream that I have every night, the one that's been haunting my subconscious for months now.

The nightmare starts off the same as it always does. It's me and him and we're together and we're lying there, in his truck, bloodied and bruised, dying. I scream for him and then he dies and I fall and there's my savior, above me. I never see them, can't seem to remember who played heroics that day, but I can make out blue eyes every time.

And then I wake up.

It's a never ending cycle and I wish it would end. I want this all to be put behind me, want it all gone from my system, but there's always something blocking me from moving on. There's always going to be something.

Mom isn't awake when I walk down the stairs and into the kitchen. I sigh, grab a banana from the fruit basket and take a seat in the living, letting the baritone voice of the news anchor echo through my ears as I lounge.

When she emerges from her room, dress suit crisp and clean on her slim form, she gives me a passing glance then frowns.

"Nightmare?" she asks and it sounds pitiful coming from her lips.

I give a curt nod to stop myself from talking. I know if I do then my voice will do something stupid like crack. I take a bite out of my banana and look at her.

"Honey, maybe we should...," she starts off, trails off when she sees the dark glare on my face. "Eleanor, I just want to help. I worry about you." Mom walks over and takes a seat beside me, caressing my face. Her hazel eyes gaze into mine and I have to look away from the sheer resemblance they carry.