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Sometimes I hate being right. When the dream–vision thing starts, I expect it to be much like all the
others. I watch Kiara cry herself to sleep, or lie there in a zombie–like state. asionally she wakes up
and moves around, but not a lot changes. I thought the fact that things rarely changed was a bad thing,
but now I’m starting to think I should have prayed for things to stay how they were for as long as
possible. Kiara is curled up on herself clearly trying to block everything out, then I see her get yanked
up by her right arm, yet again interacting with invisible people. She begins shaking her head, her hair
flicking around her ears as much as it can given how matted it’s gotten. I can see tears running down
her face. Her mouth is moving and given the amount of energy she’s putting behind her movements,
she’s yelling. Damn it I wish I could read lips. I can make out one word though. ‘NO‘ She is yelling and
arguing against something. Someone is pulling her by the arm and she is pushing and fighting, but it is
clearly no use. She’s not strong enough to get free. But even knowing it’s useless, I find myself rooting
for her. Maye if she fights just a little harder she can escape. Then, all of a sudden, Kiara just freezes in
ce, a look ofplete and utter shock and fear on her face. She shakes her head again, and says
something else, although she seems far more. reserved. She looks especially small when she
responds to whoever is speaking with her. Her expression changes from one of shock to pure resolve.
Her little mouth is turned down in a frown, her eyebrows furrowed and her jaw locked in ce. There
are tears running down her cheeks. She stumbles like someone has pushed her forwards. She reaches
out with one hand, her whole b*dy is trembling. I see her say something, then she squeezes her eyes
shut and turns her head to the side. Her hand drops back to her side, then she drops to her knees.
Secondster, she is curled up in a ball on the ground, shaking and crying a fresh wave of tears. That’s
it, I can’t watch it any longer. I don’t know how I do it, but I force myself to wake up.
For once my dreaming must have been silent because Bemy is still sleeping peacefully beside me. I
suspect I was too focussed on holding my breath and watching what was
happening to even think about screaming. I grab my phone from the bedside table and check the time.
Half past four in the morning. Ugh. Just no. I crawl out of bed and tip toe out of the room. If I can’t sleep
anyway I may as well head downstairs where I’m less likely to wake Bemy. I make my way to the
kitchen with the intention of finding some kind offort food only to freeze in ce when I realise that
the kitchen isn’t empty. I clutch my chest in fear, my heart racing until-
“Ryann? What are you doing up?” Megan asks, her face dimly lit by that little light from the
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fridge. I breath a sigh of relief.
“Other than being scared to death? Why are you hanging around in the dark?” I demand, flicking the
light switch and blinking in the sudden brightness. Megan shrugs.
“Sorry, I don’t need a lot of light to see. I didn’t even think to turn it on.” She reminds me. Ugh, stupid
Shifters and their night vision. I bet she’s never tripped up stairs either. Okay, I might be a little cranky.
“Okay then, well I’m up because I’m having more awful vision–nightmares what’s your excuse”
“Just the regr kind of nightmares.” She responds with a sigh.
“Ah, the trauma induced kind?” I question.
“Yep. The good news is I have a solution for nightmares.” She says with false cheer.
“Oh? Do share.” I prompt. She opens the freezer and pulls out a tub of ice cream which she then
dramatically presents to me.
“Ice cream therapy.” She announces. I shiver a little.
“That does sound good, but I’m a little cold…” I trail off. Megan just grins.
“That’s what hot chocte is for.” she says as if it is incredibly obvious and I’m being dense
for not thinking of it myself.
“Oh of course. How could I be so stupid? You get spoons and I’ll start the drinks?” I suggest.
“Deal.”
By the time Bemy wakes up andes downstairs at about six thirty, he finds Megan and I sitting in
the living room with an empty ice cream tub, my third hot chocte and a packet of chocte biscuits
that is definitely more empty than full. I’m about three seconds away from a sugara. Megan is in a
simr state. We’re watching cartoons on the living room tv and giggling manically. I’m sitting on the
floor because about twenty minutes ago I was
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“Woah, what did I miss?” Bemy asks, dropping down onto the floor beside me. He presses a k*ss to
my cheek and steals a biscuit from the packet.
“We couldn’t sleep.” Megan says as if it exins enough.
“So you decided to eat yourselves into a sugara?” he questions. I shrug.
“Seemed a better way to get to sleep than hitting myself in the head with a hammer.” I point out and
Bemy raises an eyebrow.
“How long have you guys been bingeing for?” he questions.
“Not sure, a bit before five?” I answer with a yawn.
“I woke at three.” Megan chimes in, catching my yawn and adding in her own.
“Okaydies, I think it might be time to brush your teeth and go take a nap.” Bemy suggests,
standing up and pulling me to my feet. I’m about to object when I realise I am EXHAUSTED. My sugar
high must be crashing.
“Mm, okay. Bed sounds nice.” I agree.
“With me!” Megan adds, bouncing to her feet. She links her arm through mine and pulls me out of
Bemy’s reach. We head upstairs and I make Megan let me go long enough for me to go and brush
my teeth properly then I head to her room and let me drag her under the covers. Luckily she has a thick
curtain that blocks all but the smallest hint of light. She curls. up beside me and falls asleep clutching
my arm like a teddy bear. I pass out almost as fast as she does.
Bemy wakes me up gently an unknown amount of timeter. It could have been five minutes or five
hours. Megan is nowhere to be seen, so I’m leaning more towards the five
hours side of the clock.
“Hey.” I greet Bemy with a sleepy smile.
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“I didn’t dream for once. It was so nice.” I stretch out and groan as my back cracks.
“That’s great to hear.” Bemy answers, but he isn’t smiling
Why isn’t he smiling?
“You don’t look like it’s great. What’s wrong? Did something happen?” I ask, sitting up and taking his
hand. He gives a small nod.
“Yeah, there was another murder.” Bemy tells me gravely. I squeeze his hand tightly as
dread runs through me. This isn’t the first murder and none of the others have led to Bemy’s face
looking like this.
“That’s awful. Do we know who it was?” I ask, not totally sure that I want to hear the answer. Bemy’s
answer confirms that this one is different.
“The woman was a Shifter this time.”