The eyes staring back at me from the mirror were cool, level. Centered. A complete contrast to the emotions rushing through my veins inside the dreamworld. Violence. Anger.Power. Everything thatwasn’tme.
I didn’t know who that man was, but I knew I wanted him dead. I wasn’t a violent person. I touched a place on my wrist where I remembered a drop of bright red clinging. It was clean now, but the thought of being covered in his blood brought back strange feelings for me. A thought bubbled to the surface before I could stop it.
I liked it.
I liked the control the dream gave me.
I liked the power killing gave me.
It was only a dream.Why did it feel so good?
I shook my head, trying to rid myself of the invasive images. It was all soreal. Especially the funny feeling I got in the pitof my stomach like something wasn’t right; a knot I couldn’t untangle.
In front of me, there wasn’t a powerful woman. No blood covered the tile, and I was alone. Just me, clinging to the spotless porcelain sink, tired eyes, and a mop of unbrushed red hair. I sighed. I needed to work in the morning, and if I went back to bed now, I might still be able to scrounge another hour or two of sleep before my alarm went off.
With one last sharp inspection of my reflection, I chewed on my bottom lip. “Stop looking for problems that aren’t there. You’re being stupid, Blaire.” I cursed at my mirror image, as if she could make different decisions from my own, as if I had power over my actions.
As if fear didn’t rule my brain, or every decision I made. As if one step outside my comfort zone wouldn’t leave me gasping for air.
As if I were in control.Kind of like in the dream…
I could’ve laughed, if I wasn’t still gasping. Iwasstupid, and a dream was just a dream. If I wanted to get anything done at work in the morning, I needed to shrug off the heavy thoughts, and getsomesleep. I tripped over my feet on the way back to bed, attempting to ignore the swirling remnants of my nightmare.
Chapter
Two
BLAIRE
“Dammit,” I muttered, dropping the unruly lock of hair that didn’t want to stay pinned back. I snatched the bobby pin, but a quick glance at my watch told me I didn’t have time to mess around with my hair. I would have to do it in the bathroom at work.
An important meeting with my boss this morning meant I needed to look like I hadn’t been up all night. I grabbed a handful of bobby pins, and slid my feet into my faithful black pumps. My brain wasn’t firing on all cylinders yet, a theme that seemed all too common for me lately.
Caffeine. Caffeine would help.
I grabbed my work bag, and closed the door behind me, triple checking all my locks before I left.
Something I learned trying to fill in the gaps in my memories was that mistakes never really went away. They just manifested elsewhere.
I wish I knewwhatmistakes I had made, but a lot of my memories were bits and pieces, stuck together with tape and glue. Regardless, I made it work. I did what I had to do to getby, and in most cases I did more than just get by. Like at work, where I thrived.
With no living family, I taught myself to be capable on my own. I never seemed to be able to keep a friend for long either. But being good at being alone and unlearning loneliness were two separate things.
As I stormed the busy sidewalks to the nearest café for my morning coffee fix, I desperately sorted through my memories, trying to pinpoint which one was the culprit of these nightmares. Lost in my own thoughts, I didn’t notice where I was going until I walked face first into another body.
“Watch where you’re going!”
I yanked my head up to see an older man brushing off his nice suit.
“I’m so sorry.” I detached myself from him, pulling my bag up on my shoulder.
He muttered something under his breath and stomped off, straightening his sleeve as he went.
I groaned, scrubbing my hand over my face as throngs of people swarmed around me. Some commented. Some just walked right past, not giving another glance to the woman standing completely still in the middle of the sidewalk.
I was getting sloppy. And the lack of sleep was getting worse. Ishouldmake another appointment with my therapist, but not until after my meeting with Harry.Fuck. This was not what I needed. Not when the promotion was so close.What if I never slept again?How long could the human body go without good sleep, anyway?Wasn’t the dream technically sleeping, though?
Shaking my head, I threw my shoulders back. I could do this. I could carefully zip all of my fears into a tiny part of myself, and deal with them at a better time. Right now, I needed to be the Blaire work expected, who was confident and capable.Not a mess in the middle of the streets, bemoaning a fucking nightmare like she was a child.
