DREAMS HURT

My hands were at the wheel, pale with an elastic band around one wrist. I was tired and my eyes were struggling to open. I dared a look into the back of the car, and I saw him, eyes closed, oblivious to the world. I wore a woolly jumper, creased at the edges. I loved that jumper, it reminded me of my father.

How she wanted to jump into his arms now, he would have guided her, better than she ever could have. She remembered him warmly, the long drives to the beach, sandcastles and swimsuits. They used to play volleyball on the beach together, and I remembered the sand in my hair, and the smell of the sea, the waves gentle. But now her father was gone, and she was alone, with only her friends to look after her. Here she was, driving a battered Toyota in the middle of the night, seemingly lost in her own thoughts.

The headlights illuminated the worn, tarmac road in front of me. We had not passed a car in hours. I was beginning to tire, struggling to keep the car between those bright yellow lines. I remembered those lines, stained red, with Nicolas's pursuer's blood. I remember his scream, and I stopped the car at the side of the road. I looked back at him. He looked so relaxed, at peace. I close my eyes and drifted into sleep. I awoke to the gentle sound of rain on the windscreen, like wet knives trying to intrude into the warm, security of the car. My eyelids were no longer heavy and I was refreshed. I was lost, lost not just in this vast world, but lost in my emotions and my own thoughts. I knew that Nicolas was safe, so now I was at ease, but not completely. I knew that we were not safe here.

For the first time I thought about who might have killed his mum. I knew that he was thinking the same thing. Before I could wake him up, my eyes became too heavy and I tumbled into darkness.

The forest was dark and misty, a thick layer of leaves between me and the soil below. It was autumn, my vision filled with brilliant yellow and reds, with the pastel blue sky above, white clouds watching her from above. I was alone in the forest, tall spruce and oak trees fought for their position. A small squirrel, scurries across the floor, leaves rustle in its wake.

Suddenly the forest darkens, as if the light switch has gone off, the forest grows dark, no longer illuminating its beauty. The warmth I had only my back is replaced by a chilling cold. The world, grows silent, the squirrel is no where to be seen. The trees wave at me, caught in the freezing wind.

Then I'm standing in a graveyard. I looked around my new surroundings, and I feel something in my stomach. Fear. I walk slowly and carefully over to a gravestone. A name is barely decipherable through the age old layers of moss and vines. I use the palm of my hand to try and wipe away some of the vines. It's my name. I stumble backwards, my heart beating even faster now. Now I can see the rest of the gravestones, no vines and moss now cover them. Jack, Tom, Nicolas. I collapse to the floor, the cold leaves wetting my back.

Then the hooded man appears, carrying a pistol in his hand. He stares up at me, and I still cannot see his face. I see him priming the pistol, it's metallic click rather satisfying. He walks towards me slowly and calmly. He levels the gun at me chest. A terrible sound emits the gun, and I hear a ringing in my ears. But no pain. No blood. He's missed. I want to run, but my legs are seemingly incapable of movement. This time I am alone in the forest, and Nicolas is not there to save me. He fires again, this time aiming for my head. I duck, and I hear the sound of splintering mood, and I smell something metallic. He is on me now, and I back up against a tree. Now I hear his rasping voice again, the memory etched into my mind. I kick out at him and he stumbles. The gun fires again and this time I feel an excruciating pain in my chest. Suddenly the world is getting smaller as black slowly fills my vision. Before I am shut of from the world, the hood slips and I see his face. Then the world turns to black.