Reality II

While the morning may have melted away Charity’s fears from the night, it did little to abate the sleep deprivation now holding her hostage or the dread still sitting heavily in her gut. As if on cue, Leah came out and began brewing a fresh pot of coffee before running to check on Charity.

“You look exhausted,” Leah said sympathetically.

“Yeah, but I’ll be okay,” Charity replied reassuringly.

Once Leah checked and redressed Charity’s bandages, she uttered a small goodbye and left for her morning shift at the hospital. Charity begrudgingly began her typical morning routine, giving herself a small pep talk that she hoped would help her make it through the day. She drove to the office in silence and did her best to sneak to her desk inconspicuously so that she would not have to stop and have small talk with any of the interns who liked to linger in the hallways in hopes of being noticed by council members.

A sigh of relief escaped her lips the moment she heard the office door click closed behind her. She began her usual routine of organizing important files for her father’s meetings and ensuring his daily schedule was without issue prior to his arrival. Suddenly, a gentle knock resounded on the wooden door, and Charity uttered, “Come in,” without looking up from her work.

“Good morning, Ms. Charity,” Andrew greeted her warmly as he walked toward her desk with two steaming cups of coffee.

“How did you know I needed this?” Charity asked, graciously accepting the cup.

“After watching you down three cups in two hours yesterday, I figured it was a safe assumption,” Andrew shrugged.

“I don’t usually drink that much,” she said defensively, her cheeks growing warm. “I just hadn’t slept and was trying to make it through the day. I don’t do well without a good night’s rest.”

“What happened to your hand?” Andrew asked with concern. He grabbed Charity’s bandaged hand and gently ran his finger over it, as if examining both the quality of Leah’s work and the extent of Charity’s injury.

Charity sighed and bit her lip, her gaze flickering to his hand on hers. Could she trust him? A flicker of Leah's cautious voice echoed in her mind, but something in Andrew's eyes, something disarming, made her want to believe him.

Perhaps Andrew could be a friend. Perhaps he wished to only use her to get to her father like so many have before. In either case, the only way to find out his true intention was to trust him now and see what the future may hold.

“I got scared and fell, and I broke my hand on some shattered glass,” she explained. “Honestly, it’s not a big deal, and I feel silly even thinking about it. It was because of some stupid dream I keep having.”

“A dream?”

“Yeah, I know it sounds a bit ridiculous. When I wake up, I can’t get it out of my head, and I can’t go back to sleep.”

“What happens in this dream?” Andrew leaned closer to Charity while still gently holding her injured hand.

“Well,” Charity began, “I’m running through this really dense forest in the middle of the night, and I stop when I see my mom laying on the ground. These… these awful c-creatures, th-they…” Charity struggled. She thought she was over the events of last night, but they resurfaced the moment she tried to recount the horrific events. She felt tears begin to well, and she did her best to stop them.

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“Hey,” Andrew said, wiping the tears that escaped her eyes. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

Charity nodded and took a few deep breaths before continuing. “I see my mom die,” she whispered, looking down and doing her best to swallow the ball in her throat.

“I’m sorry,” she said, embarrassed to be so emotional in front of someone she hardly knew, “I know it’s dumb of me to be so bent out of shape about a stupid dream. It just feels so real. I haven’t slept in two nights, and now I think the sleep deprivation is getting to me. I might even be hallucinating.” Charity attempted to laugh at herself to make the situation less tense, but the worry still echoed in every forced syllable. “Last night, after I woke up, I saw these glowing red eyes out of my window-”

“You saw red eyes?” Andrew asked, his voice laced with tension.

“Yeah,” Charity responded, not noticing Andrew’s change in expression. “It sounds ridiculous, right?”

“No,” Andrew stated firmly.

“What?” Charity was confused.

“Charity, you can’t go home tonight,” Andrew’s usually calm words were filled with an anxious tension.

“What do you mean?” She replied, pulling her hand away from his. His tone was beginning to scare her.

“I can’t explain much while we’re here. Just please promise me you’ll stay somewhere else tonight,” he pleaded.

“No,” Charity replied, “I don’t know what I saw, and you don’t know me well enough to tell me what I can and can’t do.”

“Charity, please. Just trust me,” Andrew pleaded, “I’ll explain everything tomorrow night when we’re away from here.”

“Why? What’s so bad you can’t tell me now?” Charity was getting angry. She didn’t like Andrew’s secrecy, and she didn’t like people making demands of her.

Andrew hurriedly snatched a pen from Charity’s desk and scribbled a note onto her hot pink notepad. He handed it to Charity, desperation prevalent in his icy blue eyes.

They’re watching.

The note made Charity’s resolve quiver, but she still did not want to give in to Andrew’s request so easily.

“Even if I did want to stay away from my home, which I don’t, what about Leah? You make it sound like something horrible will happen tonight just because I thought I saw something that I’m not even convinced is real!”

“Charity, please,” Andrew said, trying to get her to calm down.

Charity glared at him, waiting for an explanation. Andrew, accepting the fact that Charity would not listen, looked for a way to diffuse the situation and decided to change the subject.

“Where’s your father?” Andrew asked.

Charity let out a frustrated breath but chose not to push Andrew further, at least for now. She glanced at the clock, and her eyes widened. It was an hour past her father’s usual arrival time, and he was nowhere to be found. It was not like him to be late.

“He… he should be here by now,” she muttered, furrowing her brows. She began biting her thumb, contemplating where he could possibly be.

“Maybe he’s sick?” Andrew said.

“No, he’s never taken a sick day. He even came in the same day he broke his arm.”

Charity got up and began pacing. Worry was slowly creeping in. Andrew watched her in silence, waiting to hear what conclusion she may have.

“This isn’t right,” Charity said. “This isn’t him. Something’s wrong.” A sense of dread fell over her, the same dreadful feeling that clung to her like a wet coat after she awoke from her vivid dreams the past two nights.

Charity stopped dead in her tracks. What if it really isn’t just a dream? She thought. The awful feeling in her gut grew greater. She hurriedly grabbed her phone out of her bag, her fingers shaking as she turned on the screen. Five missed calls. Her heart hammered against her ribs as she dialed his number, the ringing tone echoing the growing dread in her chest. No answer. A wave of nausea surged through her.

“I have to go,” she said, her eyes full of fear.

“Wait!” Andrew called, grabbing her wrist. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know, but I just need to make sure he’s alright. He isn’t answering his phone, so I’m just going to run by my parent’s house, check in on dad, and come back,” she said, her voice shaking.

“Can I drive you?” Andrew asked.