Company
I couldnât remember if Iâd screamed.
Sure, I knew that Iâd screamed in my nightmare â but had the same thing happened in reality?
I hoped to God not.
I wiped away the sweat that was dripping from my brow with the edge of my sheet. I was still shaking from the horrible nightmare. For once, it wasnât something that the voices had put into my head. It wasnât even one of those âI-watched-a-horror-movie-just-before-bedâ nightmares, either. It was one that was fueled by some sort of subconscious thought.
Questions tumbled into my head. What had that strange creature been; the one that was trying to kill me? And why was it trying to kill me? Had I done something to it?
And more importantly, whose voice was it that saved me?
âOctober?â I sat up straighter upon hearing my name. âOctober, are you okay?â
Apparently I had screamed.
With a sigh, I rolled off the bed and dropped to the floor. âBad dreamâ Was all I told Parish.
He didnât seem to buy it. âAre you sure? That was some pretty serious screaming you did just now.â
âJust a nightmare, I swear.â I assured him as I spread the sheet on the floor and lay down on top of it.
âYou donât need to lie to me you know, I told you before Iâmââ
âFor Peteâs sake Parish, would you drop it already?!â I hissed at him angrily, âI told you, it was just a nightmare. Could you just let it go?â
He fell silent after that, and I suddenly felt bad for snapping at him. After all, heâd just been worried, hadnât he? I let a few silent seconds pass before sighing again.
âIâm sorry.â I ran my hands through my hair, frowning when I noticed a couple strands that had come loose in my fingers. âI didnât mean to snap.â
When he replied, his tone was light. âItâs okay. Youâre still shaken up; I get it.â
âI guess I amâ¦â I nodded up at the incredibly white ceiling. The lights were still on, which meant that it still wasnât dark enough for the nurses to call Lights Out.
âWanna talk about it?â
I bit my lip, considering this for a moment. âNot reallyâ¦â
âOkay then.â
We fell into silence again until I caved. âSomething was trying to kill me. A ghost, or a spirit or something. It was choking me, and just when I thought I was going to die, this voice saved me.â
âA voice?â He repeated quietly.
âYeah.â I nod, blinking up at the blank ceiling. âIt sounded familiar⦠but so strange at the same time.â
âOkay, thatâs confusing.â
âTell me about it.â
âWhat did the voice do?â He asked after a beat. âTo chase the ghost-thing away?â
âNothing really,â I answered. âIt just⦠spoke.â
âWhat did it say?â
âIt kept calling its child.â Iâd already guessed what the next words out of his mouth were going to be.
âWas it one of your parents?â Bingo. Ten points to October Grimmes.
I shook my head firmly â and then realized that he couldnât see me. âNo. Definitely not my parents. I would have recognized them.â
âYeah, good point.â I could practically see him scratching his head in confusion. âThen who was it?â
âNot a clue.â
âHmmâ¦â I plucked at a piece of thread sticking out from the mattress and yanked. âMaybe youâveââ
A heavy groaning noise erupted from somewhere in Parishâs room and he immediately stopped talking.
âParish?â I whispered quietly, only to be shushed very harshly in response. I fell silent. Something was obviously going on; he wouldnât have shushed me otherwise.
Through the vent, I heard the sound of a door being shut, followed by the muffled clicking sound of shoes on tile. I vaguely hoped that Larkson hadnât stopped by and heard Parish talking to me and wasnât going to separate us. He could be annoying sometimes, but when it came down to it, Iâd take his company over being locked up with an empty room with my own nightmares and evil voices any day.
âParish? Why are you on the floor?â I heaved a mental sigh of relief when Parishâs guest spoke. It wasnât Larkson, it was Darren.
âNot much difference between the floor and the bed.â I heard Parish reply nonchalantly before changing the subject. âWhat are you doing here?â
âWell, since our session was, um, interruptedâ Darren replied, referring to Karaâs and my little show earlier, âand we still had forty minutes left, I asked Dr. Larkson if I could use forty minutes of your sentence to complete our session.â
âYou want to finish it now?â Parish spluttered. His tone was coated with incredulousness, but I could detect a slight hint of unease. I didnât blame him; he knew that if they finished their session, Iâd hear everything.
Anyone in his position would be uneasy.
âYes.â Darren answered, sounding a little suspicious. âIs that a problem?â
âNo.â Parish lied. He couldnât tell Darren that I could hear without risking Larkson coming in here and separating us. I didnât understand why he lied â he would have probably been better off if Larkson had separated us. I mean, Iâm the one who wanted company to keep my mind off the voices. He could probably do without someone screaming her head off every time he tried to rest.
Still. I appreciated the sentiment.
âAre you sure youâre okay with this?â I heard Darren question. There was a shuffling noise, as I he was dragging something across the floor. âYou look a little, disgruntled.â
Parish merely groaned heavily in response. âLetâs just get this over with, okay?â