Young Writers Society

Everyone gathered around the TV with a mix of popcorn and slices of fresh banana bread, that Jess had eagerly offered to share. She hoped a little homemade food would brighten everyone's spirits, because she certainly needed the help herself. All of the dreams she was having were starting to weigh on her. Of course, they weren't too weird, and she'd assumed she might start dreaming again, now that she was sleeping a little longer, and a little deeper. But the one with her mom, and the one with Mikhail in it she wished she could forget. It felt like her subconscious was just digging the proverbial knife deeper into the wounds already there.

And then of course, she had to write them down for scientists to read. She knew she'd agreed to that, but that was before she knew her brain was going to decide to dig up all of her unresolved emotions.

Oh well. It was movie time.

She plopped down on the couch beside just a little ways from Rachel on the other end. Clyde and Noah had pulled all of the couches closer to the TV, creating a little V-shaped nook with their snack table in the middle, like an offering under the big TV screen. Tara jumped over the side of the couch and scurried across the room to turn off the lights, and Clyde was already wrapping himself up in a blanket in the corner of the other couch. Jess couldn't help but laugh. It had only been a few days, but she'd witnessed the guy napping in so many odd places all throughout their little facility.

Yesterday, it had been draped over the washing machine. At least he was prepared this time.

Tara jumped back on the other couch, in between the boys, Noah and Clyde, and grabbed one of the big bowls of popcorn that her and Noah immediately began to share. Jess nibbled at her banana bread as Rachel found the remote and pressed play.

Jess had never seen the cult classic (pun intended) but thought it would be interesting. She'd been young when Adam Whitman's name was all over the news, back when he'd found his sisters. Media outlets kept calling back to the court case, and the murders, and all of the women caught up in the cult (and how many had kids with Jay). It had been like this big, nationwide drama that everyone was a part of and had an opinion on. Nowadays though, it was just history.

She couldn't help but admire the little "theater" the three younger ones put together. It was cute, and it kind of make Jess like she was back in college again. Especially with all the candy on the table.

As the movie played on Jess found herself immersed back in the drama of Alex Altman all over again. She could remember seeing the young girl on TV, and wondering how a girl like her could get caught up in something so dark, and so sinister. It was interesting how the movie dove into her personal life before meeting Jay, and how that acted as a set up for Jay to step into.

Alex had been looking for an answer - someone to make her feel like she was seen, like she belonged, like shew as special, she was wanted. Jay used pretty typical tactics to lure her in.

Then, they showed a flashback. Jay was with his ex-wife Sarah and his then eleven year old son Adam. They were at a park, and Jay seemed especially into her. He wanted her back. Adam was looking away. Rachel squirmed uncomfortably throughout the scene.

Jess glanced over at her, wondering if maybe the subject material was getting a little too much. It was a heavier topic, after all. Not exactly a feel-good movie.

"You alright?" she whispered.

Rachel shook her head, but said nothing.

Jess pursed her lips into a frown, looking between Rachel and the movie, then at the others. Clyde, Noah, and Tara seemed pretty absorbed in it. They didn't seem to notice.

"It's fine, let's keep watching," Rachel said curtly.

"Okay." Jess decided to leave it, and the movie played on.

From the critical flashback scene, the movie quickly moved towards its conclusion. The interactions with the girls. Them leaving, one by one until only Alex, Sasha, Blake and Michelle were left. The murder of Margaret Kelly and her two friends on July 4th, 1971.

Things wrapped up quickly after that, showing them getting arrested and charged. Then the credits rolled, and there was an epilogue, showing pictures of the real people involved.

Esther Altman was raised by her grandfather, until she committed suicide in November 1988.

Alex Altman remains in prison to this day.

Sasha Adams died in 2001, of brain cancer.

Blake Johnson has converted to Christianity.

Michelle Vallens lives in upstate New York with her husband and two sons under an assumed name.

Jay Whitman was first diagnosed with pancreatic cancer in 2013. He spends most of his time in prison hospitals now.

Rachel took a loud, deep breath as the credits began to roll, complete with an awful auto-tuned cover of The Fifth Dimension's "Age of Aquarius".

Jess stretched out her legs, and tossed a napkin out of her lap and onto the table. Clyde looked fast asleep, but he'd lasted longer than they'd all expected.

"What'd you guys think?" Noah asked, grabbing for another handful of popcorn.

"I can't believe that movie won eight Oscars," Rachel said snidely.

Jess laughed. "At least it didn't win any awards for the score, right?"

Rachel laughed. "I didn't mind the score. I minded that they showed Amy Fox being raised in the commune when that never happened. I minded that they showed Jay and his ex-wife fucking when that never happened. I minded that they showed all of the girls except the killers leaving when that never happened. Terrible movie."

Jess's eyebrows pinched together. She knew Rachel was a history buff, and it was normal to have qualms about historical inaccuracies, but this was starting to sound a little personal.

"Did you do a lot of research on this or something?" Tara asked.

"Um," Rachel began, looking uncomfortable, like she had just dug herself into a hole. "Jay Whitman is my... grandfather."

Everyone stared. Well, except Clyde. He was asleep for all of this.

"Oh, Rachel," Jess began, her voice gentle. "I'm so sorry. If we'd known we wouldn't have watched the movie."

Rachel sighed. "It's okay," she said. "The filmmakers asked to consult with us. My dad and me. My dad's Adam, his son. But anyway, they pretty much ignored everything we said."

"Well that sucks," Noah declared.

Rachel took a deep breath. "I didn't want any of you to think of me differently, but cat's out of the bag, so." She then looked down at the floor until someone said something.

There was a small pause, but Jess swooped in. She leaned forward a little on the couch.

"Hey, we don't have any problems with you Rachel. You are not all of this-" she gestured to the screen.

Rachel smiled sadly. "Now my sister's fucking missing, and now my dreams have been about her."

Jess's face fell in concern. "Oh my gosh, that's terrible."

Rachel pursed her lips, letting it all out. "And my husband hates me because I can't get pregnant, and our doctors think I'm the problem. So that's great." She took another deep breath. "Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to have a normal family. My mom and dad tried so hard, but they have no idea what they're doing."

Jess kept leaning in, listening. It sounded like there was a lot weighing on Rachel right now, and she was sure with a missing sister, a lot of emotions were swirling to the surface.

"I'm sorry things have been so hard for you lately," Jess empathized. "I really hope they find your sister. Have you been able to get any news from her since we've been in here?"

"Yeah she blocked me and our brother and our parents on her all socials, so I think she might be in trouble." Rachel sighed. "I think she was always jealous of me. I know how that sounds but. I think if people look at my life on the outside they might think it's something it's not."

She snorted and continued. "My dad's a wreck. He acts like he's strong, but he's not really." Rachel's face then turned red. "Anyway, what's everyone else's dreams been like?"

Jess blinked, and her eyebrows shot up before she looked away, eyes dropping to the floor.

"Not too great," she admitted. "They're not quite nightmares, but they're scary in the way that they feel deeply personal, if that makes sense."

Rachel nodded in understanding. Then, she stood up. "Hey, um, I need to be alone right now. Thanks for the banana bread." She stood up and disappeared down the hallway.

Jess leaned over the couch, watching as Rachel left.

"If you need anything, just let us know!" she called out.

"Will do!" Came Rachel's voice.

Jess sighed and slid back into the couch, looking over at Tara and Noah. Their faces were painted with concern, and a tense silence hung over the room as they sat there for a moment, still in the light of the TV screen in the dark room. Jess took in a deep breath and reached for an empty bowl on the table. She shook it, and could hear the clatter of leftover popcorn kernels that never popped.

"Why don't we clean this mess up?"



Jess woke up with a weight on her chest, still feeling the heaviness of the dreams from the night - well, the nights before. She'd had one about her mother again, and her mother wasn't feeling well. Her mother had forgotten to take her insulin and it hadn't ended well.

Jess groaned as she sat up and rubbed her eyes, grabbing for her computer by her bedside and hurrying to type up the dream so she could get it out and forget about it. She didn't think she'd actually be able to forget about it any time soon, but maybe if she distracted herself enough, she'd get lucky.

Her fingers danced across the keyboard, filling the empty silence of the morning with the faint clattering of keyboard keys. She was about halfway through typing up her dream log when she heard an awful crash, like the shattering of glass.

She froze, looked up at the door, and slammed her laptop shut.

She grabbed a loose cardigan from her closed and pulled it over her shoulders as she rushed out down the hallway to the bathrooms. It sounded like the sound had come from there. She spun around in the hall as she looked around at all of the bathroom doors. All of them were closed, but the light was on in Noah's. She could see it through the crack under the door.

She knocked a few times, but she couldn't hear anything besides a few muffled noises; the shuffling of feet, and the clattering of glass across tile. Jess tested the doorknob. It was unlocked.

"Noah? Are you in there?"

She could hear the start of a sob.

"Noah, I'm coming in, okay? Please say something-"

Her eyes widened as she opened the door.

The glass door to the shower had shattered, and shards of glass were scattered all over the floor. Noah was sitting on the end of the tub, holding his right hand, clenched like a fist, and bleeding. Still in his pajamas, but now splattered. His whole arm look like it'd been cut up to the elbow, and blood was dripping all over himself and the tub.

Noah's face was red with tears and he was sputtering and sniffling. Trembling.

She started to make her way towards him, but she was on bare feet.

"Clyde! Rachel! Tara!" she called out. "Somebody grab the phone!"

They'd been given a phone that only rang to one number. An emergency number, in the case of an emergency, and this was an emergency. Jess could hear a door slam open.

Jess hazardously grabbed a towel off a rack and used it like a makeshift broom to push glass and pave a way to Noah. "Oh my gosh," she muttered, surprised at how she was not shaking, and her voice was somehow devoid of panic. "Noah. What happened?"

As she came to Noah's side, she put an arm around his back. They needed to get him away from all the glass.

"I-I-I-I was just- I th-thought-it was j-just a d-dream," he stuttered through sobs. Jess's heart was twisting inside her chest.

Tara appeared in the doorway, looking on at the scene in horror.

"The phone! Get somebody on the line!" Jess ordered. Tara nodded at Jess with eyes as big as saucers before she turned tail and sped down the hall.

Jess turned her attention back to Noah. "Let's get you out of here, okay?" she said, moving to help lift him to his feet. It was about that time that Rachel came to the door.

"Oh, thank god, Rachel. Can you help me clear away the glass and get him out of here?"

The two of them ended up getting Noah out of there, fortunately with the pads of their feet unscathed. Noah, though, looked far worse for wear, and he was still sobbing. Jess didn't know what poor Noah's dream had been about, but it couldn't have been anything good.

By the time they made it into the hall, the main door to the facility burst open and four doctors came in with a stretcher. Clyde came out of his room just in time to witness the chaos of Rachel and Jess handing off the injured Noah to the doctors, who lifted him up carefully and started wheeling him out.

"We'll have a team come by in a few minutes to clean up the mess. Stay away from the bathroom in the meantime, and take care of yourselves," one of the doctors ordered, before rushing back out the door to the outside world with Noah.

Tara came running back out from the kitchen, too late to say goodbye.

Well, none of them had gotten to say goodbye.

The four of them stood frozen, staring at the door for Jess didn't know how long. Her heart was still racing. Now she was shaking.

"What happened?" Clyde finally questioned, pushing through the tension in the air. Half awake, with his hair sticking up different directions.

Jess realized in that moment that she was the only one who probably knew remotely how to explain, but even then, she didn't know that much.

"I don't know," she said, lips pressed into a line. "He... he said something about a dream..."

In my dream, I was in a prison cell. The first thing I felt was the biting cold. My bare legs were blue, and my feet were swollen to twice their size. I screamed in pain. It hurt, it hurt. I looked up and saw and heard the blizzard outside my window. The wind. The snow. The night was black and it had no stars. It looked surreal.

I had no blanket and no way to close the door.

That was when I heard Jim Morrison's voice coming from down the hall. His voice was obscured by the sounds of the blizzard, but I heard three lyrics very clear.



I screamed again, hoping someone would hear me. That they'd give me a blanket, or that they'd amputate my legs, because that's probably what it had come to.

God, it hurt. It must have been below zero out there, and I was wearing a simple short sleeved nightgown. That was when I looked up and saw my hands were blue and puffed too. I couldn't move. I couldn't think.

"It won't help," came a man's voice. I tried to look, but for now I could only hear. Still, I'd recognize that voice anywhere.

Grandpa.

I said nothing.

"You're nothing without me," he replied.

"That's not true," I said in between trying to take breaths to control how unbearable the pain really was.

Was it possible to be this cold?

Was this what hypothermia felt like?

"People only care about you because of me," My grandfather continued. "If it weren't for me, you'd be irrelevant. You should be thankful."

"Maybe I want to be irrelevant," I said. "Maybe Lacey wouldn't be missing if we were."

"You love the attention you get from being my granddaughter. You know you do."

That was when I started taking heavy breaths.

So...

Cold...

Stop...

the

pain...

I woke up safe and warm. But I didn't feel it. Noah was gone. And I had just felt like I was dying of hypothermia a moment ago. What was going to happen to the rest of us?

Someone was knocking on my door last night, and I think it kept waking me, so I'm not sure how much I've managed to remember.

For a large portion of the night I felt like I was waking, but not truly awake. I would be frozen, unable to move, but aware of everything around me. I don't know who was up last night, and if I made any noise. Maybe that's why they were knocking? I can't recall if I locked my door, but they never came in.

I tried calling out to tell them I was trying to sleep, but I could hardly move my mouth. Just to get out what felt like a muffled hum took so much out of me, I didn't think I'd be able to do any more. And then I would be asleep again.

Eventually, though, I did dream.

I woke up in my room, in a yellow dress. It was the same dress from a few nights ago - not one I ever remembered owning, nor one I would ever pick out for myself. But this time I didn't really feel like I was dressed to go out on the town. I felt like I'd fallen asleep in my evening clothes, or taken a too-long nap some summer evening, and when I woke up I was disheveled and my skirt was twisted all about my legs. My hair had knotted up, escaping from its braid into some unbelievable tangled mess that I fussed over for quite some time.

Every tangle seemed only to get worse, and worse, and for a moment I had the very irrational fear that my hair might never get untangled, and end up matted and a mess forever.

Finally, I just gave up on it. I needed a comb, and a mirror. I don't know why I kept going at it with my fingers. That's never a good idea.

I sat there on my bed in frustration for a minute. I still didn't like wearing the dress any more than the previous dream. I felt uncomfortable, even with no one around to see.

I fussed with my dress and ran to my closet, searching for something to cover me up, but for some reason I couldn't find anything besides this tiny little shirt. A crop top, really, but definitely not what I was looking for, and definitely not age appropriate. I left it in the closet and pulled my blanket off my bed, wrapping it around my shoulders and holding it closed, so I could hide.

I don't know who I thought I hiding from, but my dream seemed eager to prove me right, and the knocking on the door returned. This time I went to the door and opened it. Mikhail was there, looking a little out of sorts. He didn't look like he'd slept.

"What's going on?" I asked him, seeing the concern in his eyes and growing worried. It looked like he had bad news.

"I heard what happened," he said. "Noah's in the ICU."

That didn't really make sense to me. Not that Noah was - or is - in the ICU, but how Mikhail of all people found out. Did they notify my mother? Did they call him? I can't remember putting him down as an emergency contact...

"How's your foot?" he asked.

I couldn't recall anything being wrong with my foot, but when I thought about it, suddenly I felt a pressure in my heel. I looked up at Mikhail, then down at my foot. The blanket was covering it, so I knew I'd have to sit down or something to take a look. Hesitant, I opened the door further and nodded for him to come in while I sat down on the bed.

A bit awkwardly, I sat down, fussing with the blanket to make sure it was still draped over my torso as I twisted my leg up so I could look at my heel.

Mikhail sat down next to me and I remember very vividly feeling the weight shift on the bed. He felt very close.

I hadn't turned on any lights in my room yet, so the only light was that from the hall, filtering in. But it was enough to see the shard of glass sticking out of my foot.

I stared at it. I couldn't fathom how I wasn't feeling any pain. Only pressure and discomfort, but the shard looked like it was big, and deep. I cringed as I reached to poke at it.

Mikhail's hand went over mine, guiding my fingers to my foot. He helped me grab the shard, and I don't know why either of us thought it was a good idea, and I didn't think to protest, but together, slowly, we started pulling it out.

It came out more like a knife would out of a cake than a piece of glass in skin. I shivered as I saw the blood sticking to it, but my foot wasn't bleeding at all. There was just this big, deep gash. Some terrible, terrible part of me wanted to stick my finger in. I didn't, thank god.

"How'd you know about my foot?" I asked. I'm amazed I even thought to ask. Usually I don't in dreams.

"They had footage," he said. "I saw you step on it on your way out."

I looked over at him. He was leaning in, his chin practically on my shoulder. I pulled the blanket tighter around my shoulders.

"I don't know how you saw," I told him. "That's just for the people running the tests so they can monitor us. I remember reading about it in the contract I had to sign." I paused. "Admittedly, I skimmed some of it, but there's a lot of legal jargon."

"You know, if you need a lawyer, I can refer you to mine," Mikhail suggested. But there was something about the way he said it that felt more... seductive than anything. Suddenly I felt like I was in a really bad rom-com movie or something. Rom-com? No, definitely not a rom-com. I can't think straight at the moment.

I brushed him off, and I know we talked more after that but I can't really remember how the conversation evolved. It's all a bit of a blur after that.

Writing this down feels really weird, now. Knowing that someone will read this. I know I agreed to this, but I didn't really anticipate to have dreams about my ex. Anyways, I'd really rather just forget it.

It appeared as if I was in a lecture hall, maybe somewhere in my university. There were rows of empty seats behind me. I was in the third row from the front and the only one in that line. Some of the seats in front of me were occupied- exactly four to be precise, but there was no professor. Perhaps a few of us had decided to stay back for some reason even though the class was long over. I realized after a while that I knew the others; back in the university they made up my general circle of friends and we had done a few projects together. I tried to call out to the guy closest to me to confirm if we were working on a project and where everyone else was. But it only occurred to me then that I didn’t remember his name or anyone else's for that matter. They talked amongst themselves in a low whisper, one of them cracked a joke and everyone started laughing. Afraid of being left out, I joined in. The sound echoed eerily in the near-empty room as if chiding us to be quiet. No one apart from me noticed or cared.

I briefly contemplated leaving the lecture hall to find the others, but something told me I wasn’t supposed to. At that very moment, the door opened to reveal a man standing on the doorway. He gestured in my direction. Glancing around, I found everyone else was oblivious to his presence and it did seem like he was calling me. I made my way to him slowly, every footstep more than audible in the silence. On reaching the exit and looking at him closely, I decided that I’ve already met him. Just a few days ago.

"Are you Tarana Conner?" The man read out from a paper in his hands. I nodded in response.

“This spaceship is ready to launch. I just came in to check if all the participants are ready.”

The word spaceship filled me with an unexpected thrill. Was it really happening? After watching all of those sci-fi movies and documentaries, will I finally become a part of a space crew? But then I looked around doubtfully; the fact that this looked less like the interiors of a spaceship and more like my university lecture hall did make me suspicious. If I was really to be a part of some great thing like this, how come I was only being informed now.

“But I don’t remember anything…” I trailed off uncertainly.

“Don’t worry about it. We have injected you with a special drug which will help you with the harsh conditions of outer space. The memory loss is just a trivial side effect of that.”

The word drug and side effect seemed like a weird combination. I couldn’t put a finger on it exactly, but something in my head was flashing a big red sign. Another question popped into my head and I couldn’t stop myself from asking it, “Will it help me sleep?”

“You will sleep like never before. Look at your friends. They’re already snoring.” I turned around and found everyone passed out in a deep slumber. I tried to stay calm as I struggled to make sense of everything. There was something important in the back of my mind, some significant piece of the puzzle that I was missing out.

“But what if I don’t want to? Can I leave?” I persisted with my questions.

“Of course not. Don’t you remember the agreement?” He raised an eyebrow.

Like a flash of lightning, the truth hit me.

I haven’t read the agreement.
Not properly.
Definitely not the part involving the side effects.

I was stuck in there for the duration of the drug trial with no hope of escape, the full consequence of my thoughtless actions slowly coming down on me like a hanging sword. For all I knew, it could do some serious irreparable damage. Is that what happened to Noah? No one ever gave us any further information about him. I gained consciousness briefly, the dream forgotten in the wake of more urgent thoughts and worries. But realizing it was still sometime in the middle of the night, I closed my eyes and fell back into sleep.

I gripped the sword in my hand tightly as I stood atop the cliff face. Ahead of me, beady eyes stared into my own, stinking breath curling through the air into my nostrils. The massive serpent’s face was dwarfed by the size and length of its curling colorless body. It made no move, and neither did I, afraid that anything I did would provoke it into attacking. The clouds around it settled gently, like deceptively calming pillows on the bed of lush greenery at the base of the canyon. I wasn’t deceived, however.

I knew that this serpent was known as the Arcane Empress, a malicious deity that had been terrorizing local villages. Despite having no strengths, I was enlisted to slay the beast. In my hand was the sword they had given him. Wait… who? Who gave me this? The sword was named Windbringer, an oddly obscure fact which I was confused about knowing. It was an artifact of the Old Gods, and it was the only thing that could end the Arcane Empress’s reign of terror once and for all.

In a sudden surge of bravery, I lifted Windbringer. It was a thin, light blade of a pure white metal. The handle was soft to the touch, and the handguard was a curling golden spiral that rippled with the motions of the sword. It felt as though Windbringer was alive, responding to how I felt and what I wanted it to do. When the blade was pulled upwards, the clouds were blown out of the canyon, revealing the green floor of the space. The Arcane Empress released an earth splitting roar, opening its mouth and charging through the air at me.

I flicked my wrist, and Windbringer did the rest. A gale of air burst surged forth, slicing the Arcane Empress in half, and tearing partly through the other side of the sturdy stone canyon. Somewhere below, a chorus of alarmed birds rang out, followed by a heart-stopping silence. The Arcane Empress’s lifeless corpse fell hundreds of miles below, landing with a thud at the base. I paused, waiting. Everytime I dreamt of the Arcane Empress in one capacity or another, the dream would end just before I died. But I had bested the danger. How was I supposed to wake up?

I heard footsteps behind me. Turning, I raised Windbringer instinctively towards the new arrival. She was a middle-aged woman, wearing an elegant golden robe. I found myself threatened by her presence. I didn’t move Windbringer, leaving the point of the weapon hovering before her neck. She smiled at me, seemingly unaware of the power I held in my hand. With one finger, she touched Windbringer’s sharp metal, and suddenly the weapon was several times heavier. It fell out of my hand, dropping to the ground.

“Who are you?” I asked, my voice hardly as courageous as I wanted it to sound. Taking a few steps away from her, I was forced to stop as I felt the trembling of stones on the edge of the cliff face.

“I’m the Arcane Empress,” she explained matter-of-factly.

“I just killed the Arcane Empress,” I retorted, glancing down the canyon. The corpse of the slain serpent was gone.

She rolled her eyes. “That was a metaphor. You’re in a dream, so everything is a metaphor. Same with the sword,” she said, pointing to Windbringer. I followed her finger to watch as the sword vanished from the ground where it was laying. “But I’m the real Arcane Empress. And I’ve been trying to reach you for a long time. But you always wake up after any little danger in your dreams. Gosh, you lot are so fragile.”

“Us lot?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

With a shrug, she brushed off my question. “The Young Gods. You. All those children you’re taking this silly study with. Everyone else you know. You’re all Young Gods to me.”

“You know about them? So you’re from my reality?” What am I talking about, “reality”? This is just a dream.

“Hardly,” she said with a chuckle. “Us Old Gods left your reality a long time ago. We left it in pretty good shape, too, but boy did you trash it.” She paused. “You think I’m part of this dream, don’t you?” I nodded. “I’m not. I’m one of the Old Gods. The Arcane Empress, Jungedïn. I’m a member of the Upper Circuit, but only fifth thanks to an injury Mayates gave me a few centuries ago… This means nothing to you, does it?”

Again, I shook my head. “If you Old Gods are so special compared to us Young Gods, then why are you here? What do you want from me?”

“Well, that’s where things get a little complicated. Windbringer, Sa’volu, was killed. He’s just a Lower Circuit deity, but without him the balance of the whole otherworld is thrown off. We need to replace him with one of the Young Gods, so I’ve chosen you. Prove yourself worthy, and we’ll bring you to the otherworld. Trust me, it’s far better than this one you’re stuck in.
“You can just take me away from this world?”

She laughed. “Oh, we do it every few centuries. Last time was after the Lower Circuit genocide. Gosh, Tang’in was a rascal. We had to take a whole island of Young Gods, back in something like 1590. Everyone misses their home world for a few decades, but you get over it quickly.”

I burst out with laughter. “Man, my mind does some crazy things. If you don’t mind, I’d like to get back to my bagpipes, oh wise Arcane Empress.”

“Kill them,” she said in a monotone voice, and I paused. “Kill the others in your study group, and I will accept you as the new Windbringer. You’ll come to the otherworld, where you’ll live hundreds of years longer, and be an omniscient deity. No more petty squabbling on Earth.” I said nothing, unsure how to reply to that. I wasn’t about to kill anyone. This was just a dream. But for a moment, it scared me that my mind had created this scenario in the first place. “You have your conditions. Go,” she said, snapping her fingers.

And then I was awake in my bed, hands trembling.

Jess laid in her bed for a long time, staring up at the dark ceiling with wide eyes.

That dream clung to her like a sticky film that she couldn't get off. She had the strangest urge to scrub at her skin, like that might help rid her of the memory of Mikhail sitting beside her, helping her pull the shard of glass out of her heel. She could still feel the sensation if she thought about it. The gaping hole in her skin. The air rushing in - cold, and hollow. She was afraid to check her foot, irrational as that sounded. But once the thought crossed her mind she knew she had to, just to be sure.

She slowly sat up, sliding her legs out of the sheets and tucking her legs up towards her. It was still dark in her room. If she wanted to turn on the light, she'd have to get on her feet.

She didn't want to do that.

With a gulp she tucked her leg up toward her, and looked at her heel. She couldn't see anything.

She held her breath for a moment and then poked it gingerly, pressing against the pad of her heel with dreaded curiosity. There was a rush of relief when she felt that everything was intact. No skin was broken. Nothing was wet or bleeding. There were just the lingering phantom pains of something that never was. She was going to be okay.

She took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. One. Two. Three. She counted all the way twelve before she ran out of breath to release.

"I'm fine," she muttered to herself. "I'm fine."

She slid off the bed and flicked on the lamp light by her bed as she passed to the closet. Something in the back of her mind expected to see the yellow dress in there, but it wasn't. There were her normal clothes, and that gave her comfort.

She threw on a loose, flowing top and a long cardigan over it. She considered changing out of her pajama pants, but paused, leaning her head against the closet door with a sigh.

Who was there to judge her? Two college students and a mom? They wouldn't care if she walked around in pajama pants for the rest of the day. They probably wouldn't even comment on it. It wouldn't phase them.

Jess went to the door and opened it, squinting at the light from the hall as she hurried towards the bathroom. Her steps slowed as she passed Noah's bathroom, and noticed how the door was locked up, and all the blood that had dripped on the floor had been cleaned up, as if it was never there.

She paused at her bathroom door, looking at the carpet. Never in her life did she think she would be wondering how to get someone's blood stains out of a matted carpet for real. It had only ever been fictional musings. Jess shook her head and hurried into the bathroom.

Her hair was a mess. Half of it had fallen out of the braid and the other half, well, she wasn't even sure what was going on. She groaned and leaned on the sink before begrudgingly grabbing her comb and working at it.

By the time she had it in another, neat braid her arms were tired, and she almost felt like lying down again. Instead, she forced herself to brush her teeth and gave up on makeup for the day.

God, she looked like she hadn't slept at all.

Jess turned around to hurry out and retreat back into her room. She wasn't sure she was ready to see people just yet.



Jess sat in the living room, still half in her pajamas, with a cup of tea in hand. Something felt off - like everyone, including herself, was pretending things were okay. As if things like this - people accidentally hurting themselves by punching solid glass doors while sleepwalking, or whatever that was, was normal.

Rachel entered the living room with a large mug of coffee. It wasn't the normal Donald Duck one. This one was at least twice its size, and had a simply quotation in blue cursive font. "PERCHANCE TO DREAM." Either the doctors had a sick sense of humor, or Rachel brought it herself, and was trying to be funny. Rachel sat down at an open seat, gave Jessica a nod, and took a long sip of her coffee. She was in sweats and a loose t-shirt, and there were deep bags under her eyes.

Rachel saw the way Jess was looking at her, and realized she was staring at the mug. The irony had been lost on her until now. "This was in the cupboard," she said flatly.

"Ah," Jess nodded. "You'd think they knew." She paused, realizing that sounded kind of cryptic.

Rachel shivered. "I think I was frostbitten last night. But, that's impossible."

"Really?" Jess looked at Rachel a little more closely.

"The window was open, there was a blizzard," Rachel said. "It felt so real. But, obviously..." She trailed off and laughed nervously.

Jess frowned. It was summer, and Rachel knew that. "Do you think you have a fever?"

"I haven't felt sick."

Jess wasn't sure what to say to that. If Rachel wasn't sick, maybe she just had a really vivid dream. She looked down into her cup of tea with pursed lips.

"What do you think are in those pills they give us?" Rachel said, laughing afterwards.

"I don't know," Jess said, rubbing the side of her mug.

Rachel took a deep breath. "So, what happened with Noah the other night? Are we in the fucking Standford Prison Experiment or what?"

Jess laughed, but it felt pretty hollow. "I think he might've been sleepwalking. I used to sleepwalk when I was little, and I know how disorienting it can be to wake up in a room you didn't fall asleep in. But I've never - well I've never broken something like that before."

Rachel swallowed. "My grandfather used to sleepwalk when he was younger, apparently. When he was older, he was an insomniac, according to my grandmother and my dad. He'd just get up in the middle of the night and walk around." Rachel pursed her lips. "My mother has sleep apnea. And my father has had trouble sleeping." Rachel shrugged. "I guess that's part of the reason I wanted to do this."

Jess hummed, taking a sip of her tea as Rachel talked. "I haven't been sleeping well for a while."

"Me either," Rachel said, ambiguously futzing with her wedding ring. "Justin blames me for not being the perfect Ivy League east coast wife he wants me to be. He fell in love with an idea. Not with me."

Jess rubbed the handle of her mug rhythmically. "I'm sorry it turned out that way. Relationships can be hard."

"Oh, we're not getting divorced or anything. Just, having trouble." Then, Rachel leaned closer to Jess. "My parents have been together since they were eighteen. And they're still so in love. Why do some people get so lucky?" She laughed ruefully, and Jess smiled weakly. "I shouldn't say that. I'm lucky. But, imagine it just all working out. Right when you need it to."

"It kind of hurts to imagine something like that happening now," she said quietly.

"My brother got a girl pregnant," Rachel said. "Not even trying. With a baby didn't even want. And my sister.... she lets herself get taken advantage of by.... men. And before I met Justin I definitely had shitty exes. My mother are father are so obsessed with being perfect, I don't think they ever taught us how to deal with shit when it came up." Rachel pursed her lips. "I just wanted to get away from them for two weeks. Is that so bad?" Rachel leaned back in her seat and took another sip of coffee as she looked up at the ceiling.

"I don't think so," Jess said, still staring into her tea. "I wanted to do the same."

"God, I was so cold last night. I literally felt like we were going to have to amputate all my limbs. And if they had to take Noah out..." Rachel trailed off.

"I really hope no one else has to leave because of something like that," Jess said. "Getting hurt... or sick. I want the rest of us to be okay by the end of all of this. Maybe this is just a bump in the road. A weird side effect that will wear off eventually, and then we'll be back to sleeping peacefully."

"I just hope they know what they're doing."

Jess sighed. "Me too."

Jess took another sip of her tea as the conversation lulled and they sat in the quiet of the living room, waking up. A minute passed before Rachel spoke up again.

"It's been kind of nice, actually," Rachel said. "No book to write, no father to talk off the ledge, no husband to disappoint." Tears started to well in Rachel's eyes before she dried them.

Jess looked over to Rachel and leaned in a little with a small, gentle smile. "And a little alone time is good, I'm sure."

Rachel nodded. The attempt to stop crying had apparently been unsuccessful. "We're good people, my family. We're not like him."

"I believe that wholeheartedly," Jess assured.

"He's dying, you know. That stays between us. But it's true. He's got six months at the most." Rachel sighed and wiped away more of her tears. "Why the fuck am I sad? Why I am sad for him?"

Jess's eyebrows pinched together, and her forehead creased. "It's normal to mourn people who were a big part of your life. Even if you weren't very close to them, or they weren't very good to you," Jess said softly.

"You have no idea, Jess," Rachel said quietly.

Jess looked down at the floor. "I'm sure I don't. But I do know what it's like to lose a parent. And grandparents. It's not easy."

"He shouldn't be mourned," Rachel said quietly. "He ruined so many people's lives. But I have his DNA in me. Imagine how my dad feels. All the shit he's had to go through. No wonder he's a broken shell of a human. No wonder my brother's in and out of rehab. No wonder my sister is missing. No wonder my aunt is an alcoholic. No wonder my other aunt is terrible to her children. And now wonder my third aunt is dead." Rachel took a deep breath. "I don't know why I told you all of that, I'm sorry."

Jess put her hand on Rachel's shoulder. "Don't apologize. It's okay."

"I'm so fucking sick of pretending to be perfect when we're not." She sighed. "I should go shower or something." She got up, took another sip of her coffee and waved.

Jess watched as Rachel disappeared down the hall, her face still creased with worry.

She was glad that Rachel was talking about it. All of it - because there was a lot. But with the way things were going, she wasn't sure how okay Rachel would really be, even if Jess reassured her over and over again that it would. That it might be. There was nothing she could really guarantee. All she could do was... listen. And that felt very weak.

Jess looked back down into her mug, which was now about half-way full from where it had been, when she'd first sat down. She'd let the teabag steep a little too long, and now the tea was bitter.

With a sigh, she took a long sip.

In the shower, Rachel kept mentally kicking herself for telling Jess all of that earlier. Jess likely hadn't want to hear it, and probably didn't care. And yet, she was so tired of pretending to be perfect. Always having a smile on her face. Always dressed to the nines. Always knowing exactly what to say.

Rachel sighed as she got out of the shower and changed into a simple gray t-shirt and jeans. There was a part of her that was tempted to change into pajamas lie back in bed and just disaappear.

And yet, there was a part of her that was afraid of what would happen if she fell asleep again. She went to the window and opened the curtain. She couldn't see much. It was a sunny day outside. The grass was green. The sky was blue.

Some days, she thought it would be much easier to not exist. But she looked out at the outside world, the one she'd be a part of again, and she heard birds chirping.

Life was beautiful. It could be beautiful. She turned on the Alexa in her room. Then, she laid on her bed anyway. She wasn't ready to go back out. Not yet.

As she laid down, she realized the door was ajar. And yet, it didn't seem that important. If the others passed, she didn't care if they saw.

"Alexa," she said. "Play Asleep by the Smiths."

"Playing Asleep by the Smiths from Spotify," Alexa replied.

Then the song started to play.

Sing me to sleep
Sing me to sleep
I'm tired and dying
...


As the song continued, Rachel laid on her bed and began to hum along. She stared up at the ceiling.

"I used to love this song. But being here and dreaming so much makes me not want to like it."

Realizing Tara was there, Rachel sat up and shrugged. She was right. "I wasn't thinking about that. Just... I don't know." Then she turned to Alexa. "Alexa, stop!" The music stopped abruptly. It felt awkward talking in the doorway. "Do you want to come in?"

"I don't know. The rooms feel oppressing. Can we go out?" Tara added after a pause," As in not out. The agreement won't let us of course. But atleast somewhere with a sky." She added hopefully.

"I was just about to suggest going out to the patio," Rachel said with a smile. "Have you been out there yet?" She got up, put her flip-flops on, and joined Tara in the hallway, closing the door to her room.

"Not yet. Even though I am sleeping more now, I kind of always feel exhausted mentally."

"I feel that," Rachel said, rubbing her eyes. As they walked outside Rachel thought of something to say. Tara was a lot younger than her and it seemed like most of the people she spent time with these days were Cape Cod housewives or their children. Not people Lacey's age and younger.

Tara squinted at the sun and then looked away. "It feels so long ago."

Rachel sat down. "What feels so long ago?"

"Just being out and having a moment for myself. You know my parents are always pushing me to do this and that and most of the time it's fun. But sometimes I just want to stop and look at the sun. "

Rachel nodded. "How old are you?"

"25. And I know what you would say that I've got a whole lot of time. But that's not what my parents think. Maybe I really am wasting my time here."

"I might be old," Rachel said. "But you're not going to hear that from me." She took a deep breath. Too many people in her family had died young. From the time she was young Rachel had learned to make the most every moment. "You're just about my sister's age. Well, she's 23."

"Oh. Back during the movie, you said she's not answering your calls."

Rachel pursed her lips. She'd almost forgotten that the movie had happened. She suddenly felt very sleepy, and before she knew it she had nodded off and was resting her head on the patio chair. Out like a light.

Tara stared at her for a brief second before the panic kicked in. She wondered if Rachel was unconscious. Tara nudged her arm gently at first and then with a bit more force. Flashes of Noah covered in blood ran across her mind and she knew she had to call the others. She wasn't sure about leaving Rachel alone outside. She tried one last time," Rachel are you awake?"

Rachel opened her eyes to find Tara staring over her. She sat up. "What happened? Was I asleep?"

"We were talking and then you just dozed off. Are you alright?"

"I think so," Rachel said. "I was tired earlier, but nothing like that's ever happened to me before. My mom has sleep apnea, but... I don't know." She trailed off.

"Maybe we should go back inside. You don't look so good." Tara suggested.

Rachel agreed and stood up. "I feel fine." What was happening to them? "We'll call if it gets worse."

Once they went back inside, Rachel turned on the TV. Amazon Prime had Mr. Rogers Neighborhood. She needed something comforting, something that made her feel like a kid again. She figured Tara could join if she wanted to but was too shaken to extend an offer.

Tara plopped down beside Rachel not waiting for an invitation. She had no idea what was on, but she didn't mind as long as it stopped her mind from working.

"I used to watch this all the time as a kid," Rachel said. "My aunt is a teacher and she loved Mr. Rogers growing up too. I just think that's cool." She smiled, and they watched. They didn't say anything. They didn't have to. Rachel tried to shake what had just happened from her mind.

Clyde woke up with his legs dangling off the bed. I guess I kinda caught myself, he thought as he rose on shaky legs. After several deep breaths, he got up and waltzed out of his room. His arm was sore, and he didn’t know why. Looking down at it, he flexed it at the elbow and curled his fingers into his palm. For just a moment, he thought he saw the handle of a sword in it. But much as his drowsiness, it was gone in a moment.

Recovering, he skipped into the kitchen, the voices of Tara and Rachel under musical melodies following him from somewhere down the hallway. Clyde found himself by the coffee pot, pouring a mug. Eh, 1:34. They’re drugging me, so I’ll sleep like a baby. I would anyway. The steaming black liquid poured into the mug, curling into bubbles as it collided with the ceramic edge. He was lucky. This time it had only been a few minutes. Maybe this stupid drug actually did something for the narcolepsy after all. Or maybe he had been roped into a scam. Either way, he was making some sweet green stuff. Cash, to be clear.

The coffee settled into the mug, smoothly spreading its reflective black surface across the space. Clyde’s hand trembled as he saw himself looking into that cup. He tore his eyes away, and they instead rested on the knife block just a foot away on the counter. The trembling intensified, but there were footsteps. Someone was coming. He gripped his wrist tightly, quelling the uncontrollable motion. Turning and trying to act natural as he desperately clutched his hand, he smiled at the new arrival.

"Jess, hi," he said cheerfully. Jess was standing in front of him, looking concerned, but a little dead-eyed. "Oh, the coffee. 1:30 isn't that late when you're being drugged to sleep."

Jess gave an uneasy chuckle. "Fair enough. I'm beginning to wish I drank coffee. I still feel drowsy, and I've been up for almost two hours already."

"Well, there's more in the pot. I can share, I suppose." He held out the coffee pot before her, waving it around.

Jess held out both her hands to steady it, and ended up grabbing it from him with another laugh. "Careful! It's glass." She hissed through her teeth and gripped the handle instead of the sides. "And a little hot."

"It's as they always say... Don't throw glass in a metal science dungeon." Clyde quickly pulled his hand away after she took the coffee pot, glad his extravagant little waves had kept her from noticing his trembling. As much as he wanted to believe it was getting better, he knew it wasn't.

Jess looked up from the pot and stared at him for a moment, her mouth slightly agape.

"... Clyde, I don't think anyone says that."

"Well I do. So that's someone."

She huffed through her nose and shook her head. "Fair enough." She paused to set the coffee pot down on the counter, pulling out a potholder to set underneath it.

"So um... did you have - or uh, were your dreams more intense? Last night?"

Clyde began to pace up and down the length of the counter, gravitating towards the knife block. Using his back to block what he was doing, he drew one from the block and inspected it. "Yeah, I guess you could say that." Knife trembling, he pretended to be reading some newspaper clipping attached to the fridge.

Jess nodded, looking over at him curiously.

Realizing he wasn't fooling anyone, he played it off as a fidget. Turning, he tossed the knife in the air and tried to catch it. Instead, the blade plunged into his shoe. It narrowly missed his toe, landing between his largest toe and his second largest. Jess gasped and clapped her hand over her mouth. "Uh, haha, old party trick. The ol' drop the knife between the toes, you know? Parties, am I right?" He paused. "How were your dreams?" Please just change the subject with me.

Jess stared wide-eyed at the knife in his shoe.

"You're not hurt, are you?"

"Oh no, I've done this when I've been drinking. You know, alcohol. Which I drink at parties. With my friends."

Jess didn't look convinced. "Are you... going to leave the knife like that? In your shoe?"

"Well, where else would I put it?" His eyes trailed towards the knife block. "Oh, right." Without another word, he returned the knife to its slot in the wood. "Anyways. Your dreams? Intense?"

Jess leaned on the kitchen counter and sighed. "Yeah," she said, looking down at the floor. "Intense, and uncomfortable. The kind that stick with you all day."

"Like a knife in a boot." No. Don't say that. "Yeah, trust me. I know exactly what you mean." An image briefly flashed of the dragon he had defeated the night before.

Jess hummed, and folded her arms over her stomach, holding her elbows loosely.

"Normally, the dreams I have are so far out that I don't have trouble separating them from reality, if that makes sense. But lately, I don't know. They've felt more real. Like some of the things could actually happen, if circumstances were different." She paused, tilting her head to the side. "I also think I experienced sleep paralysis. Which has never really happened to me before."

"Ah yeah, the old sleep paralysis. SP. Ess Pee. It can be scary the first time. I remember my first time, and boy was that terrifying."

"Have you had it a lot?"

"On and off. It happens to a lot of narcoleptics, I guess. Or so I'm told."

"Ah." She nodded. "I guess that makes sense."

Clyde offered a shrug. "So, uh... What exactly did you dream about? If, you know, that's something you're cool with sharing."

Jess’s eyebrows shot up. "Oh," she said, clearing her throat. "Well. My - my dream last night? It was strange. My ex showed up, uh, here. Knocking on my door. And he knew about Noah somehow." Her gaze dropped to her feet. "And there was a shard of glass in my foot. But it didn’t hurt, which was... unsettling." She shooke her head a little and looked back up at Clyde.

"Yours?"

"Oh, haha. HAHA." You couldn't sound any less natural. "It was rather normal, I suppose. The usual, you know? A dream? Dreams. Haha. I killed a dragon. Which is about on par for the bagpipe major, you know?" He looked away, not wanting to meet eyes with Jess. "Your dream sounds far more unusual, and unsettling."

Jess watched him, with her eyebrows pinched in concern. "...You don’t have to share everything," she said quietly. "But it’s okay if your dream was unsettling too."

"Oh no, no need to worry about me. Just an old dream, you know." He went silent for a moment. "I always hear this name in my dreams. 'Arcane Empress'. No clue who or what she/it is. But last night I met her. Maybe. I'm not sure. It was weird. But I mean, I'm rather weird, so I guess my dreams are just gonna be like that."

Jess didn’t look any less worried. "What was she like?" she asked.

After a moment of hesitation, Clyde let a look of confusion cross his face. "I... I don't remember." He felt bad about the lie the moment it escaped his teeth, but he didn't like the look on Jess's face. So he let it pass. "I guess she couldn't have been all that memorable!" A chuckle. He found himself pleased at how convincing it was.

Jess held his gaze, frowning. She sighed and looked back down at the floor.

"Has it been harder for you?" she asked, scratching at her arm. "After what happened with Noah?"

"I'm not sure I would say it's been harder, but I've certainly been more, errr, curious about what's going on here. I don't know if I'm allowed to say something like that. But you can't tell me that wasn't a little weird."

Jess nodded. "It was," she agreed. "I... I don’t know if like, doctors or whatever are listening. But if they don’t like what we’re saying - well, what can they really do about it?" The confidence in her question withered as her face fell, and she didn’t seem all that convinced by her own words. "I mean, I’m just... concerned. I know I’ve slept-walked before, and maybe you have, I think, but I don’t think Noah really had major sleeping issues before all of this. Not that he shared."

Everything that had happened to Clyde since he started this trial washed him for a long moment, and every dream he had experienced flashed. "Yeah... I guess this drug they're working on has some kinks to iron out, yeah?" He laughed uneasily. "Either that or Noah really did just sleep-walk, and we're the idiots."

Jess laughed weakly at that. "I hope so. I mean, so far, it’s just been a few bad, sometimes freaky dreams. I guess that’s not the end of the world is it?"

"Yeah, I guess so. And what's a few weird dreams to an insomniac in need of a drug like this?"

Jess laughed again, this time a little lighter. "True. I was in desperate need of some kind of solution, before all of this. At least we’re sleeping better, I think."

"Oh yeah, I'm sleeping like a baby. Although I've yet to see any improvements in my narcolepsy like they promised. Oh weeeeell. Not like a drug trial is guaranteed to be a success." Clyde shrugged.

"True," Jess said. "I guess I just hadn’t anticipated everything that could go wrong."

"They probably didn't either. On the bright side, after our trial they'll fix it."

That made Jess’s face light up a little. "Oh, yeah," she laughed. "I forgot about that."

"For a noble cause!" He said, waving a fist in the air triumphantly."

Jess smiled.

"Well, I'm gonna go practice the bagpipe. As I am prone to do. I'll catch ya on the flip side," Clyde said with a little half-wave. He turned and made his way back to his room, glancing over his shoulder briefly to see if Jess was watching. By the time he turned the corner, he looked down at his sleeve and shook.

Sliding out and into his palm was the kitchen knife.

I was woken when the sky was still dark by someone pounding at my door.

"Alright, alright," I finally said once I came to, enough to realize what was happening. I opened the door, and Justin was there, out of breath.

I had no idea how he had gotten there, or why the doctors had let him in. I just hoped nothing was seriously wrong.

"I came to get you," Justin said.

"But I'm not done yet," I said. "How did you get in here?"

"Don't worry about that," Justin replied. "Just come with me."

He took my hand, and I told him that I had to get my shoes on first. He pulled by me by the hand down the hallway, and out the door of the facility.

I wasn't sure if I was allowed to leave, but there was no time to ask questions. My husband was acting erratically, and I wasn't sure what was going through his head.

He led me to the parking lot, where the night air was balmy. And towards the car. I got in.

That's when I remembered. Wasn't it his birthday? I had forgotten...

He started to kiss me, and I let him. He hadn't been like this since we were first dating. Lately, sex had felt routine. An obligation. Something to do so we could get it over with. Because lately, each time would inevitably lead to disappointment when I found out I was not pregnant.

I'd forgotten what it was like to just enjoy it. Still, this felt wrong. I let him take off my shirt so I was just in my bra and underwear before I shrank back.

"Don't you want to make a baby?" Justin asked.

"More than anything," I said. "But-"

"But what?"

Before I could respond, I smelled smoke.

In an instant, the facility erupted in flames. We watched helplessly. I thought about the other participants, the ones I'd befriended this past week, and how it was moving too fast for them to escape...

Then, the facility exploded. How we weren't consumed by the mushroom cloud, I Had no idea.

And then, I woke up in my bed.

Safe and warm.

The sky was still pink. Somehow, I found the strength to sit up and get out of bed. I had to make sure everyone else was still alive and well.

I was back in my childhood home, where I grew up. The smell of freshly baked banana bread was potent, and it drew me to the kitchen. My mother was looking in the oven, and pulled out a loaf. Her hands were shaking a little, and I rushed over to help her. I grabbed a towel off the oven’s handle since my mother hat the mitts, and took the loaf from her, setting it on a burner on the stove-top. My mother’s hands were still shaking.

"That’s funny you’re making banana bread," I told her. "I just made some the other day for my friends."

My mother smiled, and reached in the oven to grab another loaf. "That’s nice," she said. "Did they like it?"

As she pulled out another loaf with still-shaking hands I hurried to take the glass pan from her again. But she only reached down to grab another. I pushed beside her to look in the oven and see how many loaves were in there, and saw that each shelf was crowded full. Even if she was baking for a bake sale, she wouldn’t try to fit so many inside. I didn’t even think she had so many bread dishes. My mother tried to push past me to help take some of them out, but I waved her off and did it myself.

As I kept taking the loaves out, she started singing. It was one of the songs from the documentary about Rachel’s family. The one that played during the credits. I can’t remember the lyrics.

"Mikhail came by the other day to visit," my mother informed me. "He said you’d fallen?"

After finally retrieving the last loaf, I stood up and closed the oven, turning to her in confusion.

"What? No."

"He also mentioned your foot."

I frowned and told her nothing was wrong with my foot. It was just a dream. But she insisted, fussing to take a look at it. Finally, I gave in and we were in the living room, where I propped my foot up on the coffee table for her to look at. She grabbed my foot and set it in her lap and her eyes were fixated on my heel.

She told me it would take a long time to heal. I told her nothing was wrong with my foot. It was just a dream. My mother just shook her head.

"I think you should look at it yourself."

I rolled my eyes and pulled my foot towards me, twisting it into my lap so I could see.

The gash was still there, but it looked puffy and infected. I felt like I could vomit.

"You know you could sue, right?" my mother suggested.

"I think I signed away my rights to that in the contract," I told her. But she retorted, insisting there must be some kind of work-around. She suggested I call Mikhail and talk to his lawyer. I told her that was ridiculous.

The conversation came to a halt when we heard someone at the door, with insistent knocking.

I woke up in my room, paralyzed in my bed for what felt like a very long time. The knocking was still there, though.

Part of me just wished whoever was at the door would come in, but mostly, I was too terrified of what could be on the other side. Had I been able to move though, I would’ve found the courage to open the door.

I squinted at the laptop screen. My cursor swayed over the virtual particles of the simulator as I tried to fix on the right velocity for the collision. Apart from the display and backlit keyboard, there was no other source of light in the room. I knew it was sometime in the middle of the night and I had been at it for a while. I rechecked the equations again, just to be sure.

"It's no good." I muttered to myself. The words echoed back to me over the soft background buzz. Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes and then banged on the keyboard with all my force. To my utter surprise, the particles on the screen zoomed into each other and combusted into pure energy.

"Did that feel good?"

"Yes, very much. " I replied with my eyes still on the screen.

"But just imagine watching this magnificent phenomena right in front of you and not just in a virtual simulation."

The sheer stupidity of this comment caught my attention and I finally looked up at the speaker. The room was too dark, I could only make out a vague silhouette of a girl. Strangely, she sounded familiar. I spoke slowly, trying my best to not sound very condescending, " We can't watch two subatomic particles collide with our naked eyes. That's why we have the LHC" Even though I didn't add the duh, it was very much implied.

"But you can here."

No sooner did she speak the words that the room lit up in a startling glow of non-existent lights. The glass walls and the ceilings reflected back at me. I blinked and then it hit me.

"Hey it's that place from..."

"There was a reason I brought you here that day. I wanted to show you what your mind was capable of. But your were still caught up with the reality."

I remembered the dream- the glass room, my parents showing me a new gadget and then forcing me to do the test run, me crashing into the ground. All of it seemed ages ago. I slowly turned in a full circle trying to find the source of the voice, but the light played strange tricks on my eyes. I could hear her, but I couldn't look in her direction. Maybe there was no direction here because of the symmetry and the mirrors.

"It's a dream then and here I thought I finally worked out the simulation." I sighed.

"You did."

"But not for real." I persisted.

"What makes you think that this world is any less real than the other one. You're a physicist, I definitely don't need to explain you about the multiverse."

"Whoa! You mean I'm in a parallel universe. I don't know what the drug is doing to my mind, but I like it."

"A universe with 10 dimensions as predicted by the string theory. " The voice sounded smug. "The spacetime here has a completely different meaning from yours."

"But this doesn't look anything special. I guess my four dimensional mind has yet to figure it out." The atmosphere around me hummed with life. No, not life. It was something far stronger. There was so much energy and potential around me, all I had to do was reach out and grasp all of the power. My eyes fell on the laptop and I remembered the simulation. As I recalled the particles interacting, the soft background buzz slowly increased. Before I knew it, countless subatomic particles and their antimatter started colliding in the empty space right above me.

"This is surreal. But beautiful." I gasped in excitement.

"This world has all the knowledge that you'll ever need. You can stay here forever."

I can stay here forever.

Something about this statement soothed me, lulling me into a deeper sleep or perhaps a state of higher awakening.

"It's the same thing you know. Waking up and falling asleep. Either way, you are only trapped inside your mind's illusion." She whispered.

A part of my mind wondered if the others would try to wake me up tomorrow when I don't. But the rest of me couldn't care any less.

I was in what I could only describe as a prison cell. The floor was bare, save for patches of dust and mold. The walls, crumbling stone bricks, surrounding me on three sides, the fourth being an array of vertical metal bars. A light hung from the ceiling above me, but it wasn’t on. I was chained to a chair, so I couldn’t see much behind me, but I knew that natural light was filtering through a presumed window slot.

The chair wasn’t nailed to the floor, so I began shifting my weight. My arms were chained behind me, holding my torso in place, but I still managed to wiggle my way around. I ended up facing about ninety degrees over from where I had originally been. Turning my head, I was able to see the window. It was a small slot in the wall with bars lining it. The window was high above me, near the ceiling, so it left much of the room in darkness.

Nonetheless, I could use it to see the outside. There was a vast gray sky above the cell I was in, and a dying tree stood just beside the small window. It’s leaves were shriveling, and their dull texture only held a fraction of the vibrant color they probably once had. A tamarack larch, I thought to myself, wondering how I knew that.

Before I could ponder it more, I heard footsteps approaching from the outside of the cell. I turned my head towards the wall of bars to see two burly men in gray uniforms stopping in front. One of them spoke in a tough, gravelly voice. “What did we tell you about moving the damn chair?”

“Well, I just got here, so you might have to tell me again,” I said with a hint of sarcasm. Unfortunately, the guard detected it, and I realized I had made a mistake. He slid open the wall of bars, creating an entrance that he and his quiet partner could enter the cell through.

“What did you say to me?” he asked, grabbing my chin and lifting it up so my eyes met his, I said nothing, unsure how to diffuse the situation. That didn’t seem to help, and arguably made things worse. “Alright. So that’s the game you want to play.” He turned around and paced the cell for a moment, contemplating my fate. I inhaled sharply.”

Finally, he stopped in front of me, his back facing my chair. “Jackson, do it.” Jackson, his quiet partner, removed a metal bar from his gray trench coat. The bar widened at the end, and there was a trigger close to the handle. Jackson held down the handle for a long minute, and I watched in horror as the wide end began to glow a bright red.

The other guard removed one of my arms from the chains and held it out for Jackson. Saying nothing, Jackson brought the red end of the rod to my skin, a horrific sizzling sound screeching from the point of contact. For a moment it didn’t hurt, but then the searing pain shot through my veins, and I let out an uncontrollable screech.

Jackson removed the metal from my skin, and I nearly passed out looking at the burn mark. Then he brought the bar back down onto the burn, and I screamed again. This time, he didn’t remove it, and I felt my head begin to spin. Before I knew it, the pain was too dizzying, and I was unconscious.

I woke up abruptly in my bed again. My arm was still throbbing. When I pulled it out from under the covers, I saw a large bruise on the forearm.

As Rachel wearily finished typing out the disturbing details of her dream, she thought she heard something. She ignored it at first, and sat at the desk. Blankly staring at what she'd written. The words were all running together and didn't make much sense. The dream had felt so real. Then, she heard the noise again. Someone was screaming, and it sounded like Clyde.

Rachel wasn't dressed, but she immediately left her room and went down the hall. She knocked on the door, briefly considering the possibility that it was his dream. It wasn't out of the realm of the possibility, considering what her own dream had been the night bebfore.

"Clyde?"

A thump was heard from behind the door, and then heavy footfalls approached. Clyde opened the door barely an inch, and looked back at her with a weary smile. He looked like he was still half asleep.

"Is everything okay? I heard you screaming."

"Oh, you know, it's just part of my bagpipe warmups." He laughed. It sounded forced.

Rachel didn't believe him, but she still realized she wasn't going to get anywhere by talking to him in the doorway. She sighed, and couldn't think of anything to say. It seemed that Clyde, at least physically, was in one piece, and that was the most important thing. "I'm going to go make some coffee."

They'd only been a part of the study for about ten days, and yet, everything before then felt like a blur.

Her husband. Her family. As much as they'd been fighting before, Rachel wanted nothing more than to see Justin again. This compound was starting to feel like a prison.

Rachel made her way to the kitchen and went through the motions of making coffee. Somehow, she knew that no amount of coffee was going to wake her up.

She thought about the infamous research studies she'd learned about in school. Namely, the Stanford Prison Expirement, the same year her grandfather had directed the murder of five. How it had to be cancelled. And how it led to reforms in research studies.

Noah already had to be taken out of the expirement, and they'd kept going. One person leaving wasn't anything to be alarmed about. But now their dreams were getting more disturbing, more vivid?

Rachel thought about how they could call the doctors if there was an emergency. They'd done it when Noah had been bleeding out on the floor. And were they really in an emergency? Rachel wondered if she was bringing some her family baggage into the expirement.

Only a few more days. They were over halfway. Maybe everything would be okay.

Rachel turned around and saw Clyde walking towards her. "It's brewing now," she said.

Clyde nodded quietly, and fidgeted with the sleeve of his hoodie, pulling it over his hand.

"Thanks, Rachel," he said, his voice still groggy.

"Any interesting dreams?" She asked. As she waited for Clyde's response, she noticed not only that she was still in her pajamas, but that she didn't care. What had the point of getting dressed for this past week had been anyway? It's not like she had anyone to impress. Maybe what Lacey would sometimes tell her was true. She tried too hard to be perfect. Just like Dad.

Clyde had been quiet for a moment before he finally replied with: "Nothing interesting," but Rachel could tell there was a lot left unsaid. She figured he'd share if he wanted, and didn't want to push it.

Tara felt her entire body move slowly as if being pushed by someone. She rolled around in her sleep, but the intruder was persistent. She tried to push away the person, but it was no good. Eventually, she opened her eyes only to shield them the next moment from the sunlight coming in through the windows.

"Leave me alone." She mumbled incoherently.

"Tara, it's been almost fifteen hours that you've been asleep." It was Jess. She sounded concerned.

"Asleep? " She looked up and blinked and then slowly glanced around to her surroundings. "But wasn't I awake just now?"

Jess's face was starting to come into focus, and her eyebrows were knit together. She was frowning, and sitting on the edge of Tara's bed.

"No," she said. "You weren't. We've been worried about you. The rest of us have been up for a few hours."

"The rest of us...... right, we're at the facility. How could I forget!" She rubbed her eyes and then looked at her bedside table for her glasses. Instead, she picked up the bottle and took a sip. "It felt so real."

"Your dream, you mean?"

Tara wasn't sure if she should talk to Jess about it because if anything it would make her worry even more.

"Yes, it was a good dream- the kind that you didn't want to wake up from because the reality could never compete with it. " Tara smiled at the memory of it. It ocurred to her that she should possibly write it down before it goes away.

Jess was quiet for a moment, before she got off the bed. "Well, I'll let you write it out and get ready. I'm glad you had a nice dream." She paused, turning for the door. "But I'm glad you woke up too. When you're done why don't you meet us in the living room? We were going to try to play a board game or something. To get our mind off things."

"Oh okay. " Tara didn't know what else to say. She was grateful that Jess was so nice and it felt good to be included, but she half-heartedly wished to go back to sleep. If only, she could dream a little more. But then she pushed the thought away before she could actually consider it and opened her dream journal.

Jess stopped in the doorway for a moment and gave Tara a small smile. "See you soon," she said, before closing the door behind her.



Tara entered the living room only to find everyone look up at her. She hoped that her eyes didn't look too puffy, and also that there was some food at hand. Her stomach groaned silently. She smiled in a way of greeting and found an empty seat beside Rachel.

"How did you sleep?" Rachel asked. She was shuffling a deck of cards.

"Oh good. It felt good, but now I'm stiff all over. The drug works." Tara replied while casually looking around for a plate of biscuits.

Clyde laughed at that, and Rachel half-smiled. Jess came over with a small plate of toast and a banana.

"Something to eat," Jess said gently, setting the plate on the coffee table in front of Tara, before going to sit on the other couch, next to Clyde.

"You're a life saver." Tara smiled at her gratefully as she pulled the plate closer to her. " So what have you guys been doing all this while ? "

"Well, Cylde and I were up earlier," Rachel said, glancing at him. "We ended up watching The Sound of Music on low volume."

"With subtitles," Clyde added.

"We didn't want to wake you," Rachel continued. "You and Jess were still asleep."

Jess shrugged, smiling, almost bashfully.

"I guess the drug really worked for me too," Jess said.

"Then we started playing games to kill time," Clyde said. "We got through one round of monopoly."

"Rachel won." Jess looked at Rachel, who was grinning. "But it took a while, and we realized you weren't up yet, so that's when I went to check on you. So you didn't really miss much."

" I guess everyone was having a good time." But as Tara said this, she could see a shadow fall over everyone's faces. She regretted it and instead tried to change the topic, " So why don't we play another....."

She stopped before she could complete it. She saw everyone else look up as well.

"Is it what I think it was?"

Rachel and Jess got up at the same time, but it was Rachel who spoke.

"Someone's at the door."

As Jess and Rachel stood up, the two of them made eye contact. Clyde wasn't doing well, and he wasn't talking about it, and something was up with Tara. It hadn't just been that she had been difficult to wake, but she'd seemed reluctant to wake up.

It wasn't that Jess felt any more normal than the others, but there was a part of her that felt like the adult in this situation.

Without a word, she and Rachel agreed to go answer the front door together.

Jess pulled the edges of her shawl tighter around her shoulders, and she hurried down the hall. The last time the door had been open had been when Noah was rushed out. Before that, it was when they all moved in here for their two-week stay.

It hadn't been quite two weeks just yet, but she didn't feel like she was the best judge of time at the moment.

She grabbed the door handle and stared at the man in the hallway.

Something about him looked familiar, but she couldn't place it. He was tall and skinny and wearing pale blue scrubs. A smile spread across his clean-shaven face that Jess recognized immediately as ingenuine. At least, to a degree. It was the kind of smile she always put on for customer service. The one you wore when you had to tell the customer that no, their coupons were in fact expired, and no matter how angry they got that wouldn't change.

The man had a clipboard tucked under his arm, and he brought it in front of him, looking down at it.

"Ms. Ray and Mrs. Chase. Good afternoon."

It was afternoon, right. She'd forgotten.

"After careful consideration, our research group has decided it would be best for everyone involved that we move you each to a smaller facility. After what happened with Noah, we want to be able to ensure everyone's safety. We plan to implement this change as soon as possible, so we ask that you would go pack your things and prepare to leave within the next hour."

Jess and Rachel shared a quick glance with each other.

"Is it very far?" Jess asked.

"Not at all. But it will be different. You will each be given your own rooms, but there will be no shared spaces. You will be provided daily meals, and as you agreed to prior, will have no access to the internet or your phones."

Jess frowned.

"What about the TV?" Rachel asked. That was connected to the internet - right?

The man's smile strained. "Unfortunately, there will be no TV's, or any screens available for that matter for entertainment. But you will have books."

Jess looked at him and glanced down at his clipboard. He kept it shielded from their view. She wanted to know what was written on it.

"What happened to Noah?" she asked.

The man's smile relaxed a little, and his expression softened. Jess couldn't tell if it was genuine or professional at this point. He seemed... stressed.

"He's doing well. He's been cared for, and fortunately, there were no severe damages to his hand or arm. But there will, of course, be scarring. He's returned to his family, now, so please don't feel worried about him. We assure you, he's okay. He's doing better."

Jess wanted to believe him, and she should've. But she found herself inclined to skepticism.

She looked back down the hall. Tara and Clyde had gotten up from their couches, and were peering down the hall with curiosity. Tara started to draw near, but Clyde was hanging back. He always had a tired look about him, but today he just seemed downcast in a way she'd never seen him before.

"When you pack your things," the man spoke. "Do leave your electronics out. We will be holding those for the rest of your stay."

Jess looked back at him, incredulous, but she found herself too tired to fight him on it.

"If we have no wifi, what's the point?" Rachel questioned.

"You did already agree to it," he countered. And that was when the clipboard came into play.

He flipped it around, already open to the page of the packet with the agreement about electronics and being willing to surrender them at the request of the doctors. But that part wasn't what surprised her. It was the point beneath it. It took her a second to decipher it through all of the legal jargon, but it came down to this: when the trial was over, they weren't allowed to publicly speak ill of the company or any of the doctors involved. Basically, no bad press. No expository blog posts. No defamation, and no complaining, even if justified.

She thought she would've noticed that one. Had... had it been added?

He pulled the clipboard away before she could catch any more.

"We'll return within the hour to move you to the new location. Please be ready. Don't worry about cleaning or tidying up your living spaces, just gather your things."

And before she could think of anything else to ask, he closed the door on them, and then it was locked.

Jess turned slowly and looked back to Tara and Clyde. Rachel, beside her, was frowning deeply.

"I don't feel good about this," Rachel muttered.

"Hey," Clyde piped up. "At least we won't wake up to each other making noises anymore."

What he meant by 'noises' was left vague enough for Jess to catch onto the nuance. Noises. Like when Noah shattered the glass.

Jess shrugged stiffly. "Always a bright side."



When she stood at the door of her new room, she couldn't help but feel like maybe this was how it was meant to be all along.

A cold, blank room. A bed, a side table with a few books, and a standing lamp. There was a small dresser for her clothes, but besides the essentials, the room was stripped bare of personality. Even though it was different, it reminded her of a hospital room.

Almost.

She dropped her suitcase at the end of the bed and turned to see the doctor in the hallway, holding the door open a peek.

"We'll bring you dinner in a few hours," they informed her.

Jess nodded and sat down on her bed. At least the mattress was comfortable. And welcoming.

"Okay."

As the door shut, Jess fell back on the bed and stared up at the ceiling.

"You would think... after all of that, I'd be done with doctors," she whispered under her breath.