Chapter 6

It was too real to just be one of his nightmares. Dustin had learned to tell the difference between his dreams and a vision while he was asleep by the age of twelve, and he is twenty-one now. Dustin sits up in bed carefully, his head swimming a little, his ears still ringing with the girl’s heart-wrenching sobs.

He gets out of bed and goes to the bathroom. He takes some Tylenol out of the cabinet and washes it down with a glass of water. He hopes that will help with his headache, and he won’t need the tramadol his doctor prescribed him.

Dustin looks at himself in the mirror above his sink. He looks pale even for him, and sweaty. His dyed purple hair is matted, some of it slicked down, stuck to his head, and other bits are sticking up wildly. The whites of his bright blue eyes are a little bloodshot, but there is no blood below his nose this time, so that’s something.