Just A Dream

A dull growl rolled through the charcoal skies hovering over Halburn City on a late Friday evening. The neon digits flash 11:04 PM on Ellie's nightstand.

Tik... Tik...

The metropolis was alive, booming with the sound of chatter from revellers that surged through leather-wrapped, steel-enforced doors, guarded by bouncers dressed in their usual black attire, paired with dark shades that hid every eye roll as they inspected fake IDs from possibly under-aged liquor chasers. Laughter from men with button-downs and loosened ties cut through the electric atmosphere as they raised their half-empty beer bottles in quiet celebration of an unspoken moment. 

Tap. Tap. Tap.

It started to rain, just a little at first, then a heavy drizzle poured, hammering steadily against the hard floors of the concrete jungle. In an instant, bystanders zipped indoors in a slow-footed frenzy, clutching their phones, bags, and half-finished drinks as they pushed into the noisy bars for shelter.

Far above, low-pitched thunder grumbled high over the city on the 37th floor of The Aeres Residences.

She lay there, Ellie Morrison. She was beautiful, like a roaring storm in the shape of a woman. She was covered in cold sweat. Damp strands of her black hair clung to her temples. Her shoulders were striking and broad, her muscles were taut even in sleep, an embodiment of the strength that she had molded during her time as the world's most sought-after female wrestler. 

Her shadowed figure caught the occasional flash of lightning from beyond the window. She flinched. Her dream spiraled into something dark.

Gasp!

She tore herself out of the nightmare in a sudden burst breathing sharp like she was running for her life. Vision blurry. Her ears ringing in a disorienting pitch as she fought to steady herself.

Throooom!

Her body tensed. She paused, scanning the dark room with a flicker of panic behind her auburn eyes. The room lay still, bathed in the soft glow of the lamp on her nightstand. Her gaze fell on the cardigan that hung loosely over a sofa across the room. Her thoughts drifted to Bernie and Phyllis, lost in their usual evening escapade bar-hopping across the metropolis. Silence settled between the walls. She let a heavy sigh escape her lips.

Ellie sat up slowly, tightening her fingers around the blanket in a firm grip. She groaned. Something felt off. Her body felt wrong. Her chest was heavy, and her lungs strained with every breath. It drained her. A headache pulsed, sharp and unforgiving. She sighed again, lighter this time.

She swung her legs over the bed, treaded toward the rain-fogged window, and looked carefully at the scene that unfolded beneath her flat. Just another typical evening in the city of dreams, she thought. Outside, the city glowed with neon signs that bled color onto puddles of water and danced across the glass fronts of pubs, sushi bars and Italian restaurants lining the street below. Cars crept along the road like trailing lanterns, and half-formed silhouettes of tipsy pedestrians and vagabonds drifted along the rain-washed alleys. For a moment, the nightmare felt distant, as reality slowly pulled her back.

She then wandered into the kitchenette, barefoot, her white tank top damp with sweat, still caught in the lingering grip of her nightmare. Her reflection blurred in the microwave door. Dry lips, pale skin. She looked like a creature half-human. She found the pantry and pulled it open with a soft creak.

Painkillers.

She swallowed two dry, then reached past the half-empty condiments neatly lined up with their labels facing out like on a store display to grab the instant coffee she tucked at the back out of habit.

Boil. Stir. Sip. Burn your tongue. Wake up.

It was a disgusting routine she'd picked up back in her college years as an anthropology major.

She cupped the mug in both hands, feeling the warmth and bitter aroma. Looking out the window, she savoured the quiet contrast between her small pocket of domestic peace and the low electric hum of the metropolis beyond. It was oddly comforting, she thought. 

Her gaze drifted to the building across, then down to the street below. She saw them. Across the street came Bernie and Phyllis, laughing hysterically at something Ellie could only guess at.

Bernie, her anchor in every storm and the artist behind every look since the day she became Ellie Ryder in World Wrestling Entertainment. He sparkled under the city lights with his jacket shining in silver sequins. Bernie was clean-shaven by choice, his scalp gleaming beneath the cold fluorescent glow of the Echo Mart sign above their heads. He waved his arms dramatically imitating someone. Phyllis, graceful and vain, the one who always had her back without question, was laughing so hard she had to cling to his arms. 

Ellie could almost hear Bernie's exaggerated voice: "She grabbed her wig mid-fight, and it slipped off like butter!" Bernie gasped, chuckling hard. "Then she screamed, 'YOU TOUCHED MY SCALP!'"

Phyllis stumbled over with laughter, barely clutching the takeout bag from the sushi bar they dined at forty minutes ago.

Ellie smiled to herself. When the world stopped making sense, they were her comfort. They were loud and ridiculous, but in her eyes, they were family in their own strange way. She liked them. And in some odd way, she needed them.

Gasp!

Pain. Sharp and sudden. The mug slipped from her hands, shattering against the floor as her gut twisted. She trembled. Her feet were scalded by the hot coffee, but the pain barely registered. It was nothing compared to the spasm building inside her stomach. She groaned and stumbled backward, gasping for breath.

Before she could stop it, bile burned its way up her throat. She staggered to the bathroom just in time and finally dropped to her knees, retching sour liquid into the toilet.

Bitter.

Blood.

She stared in horror into the water now crimson red. Her lips now stained. Her ears rang.

Hrrrrkkkk!

Another cough, sharp and wet. More blood splattered into the toilet. The room blurred at the edges and every inhale was a laboured feat. Something was wrong. So wrong, she thought. She laboured to say "Help" but her voice was no more than an echo. She felt weak, growing numb by the second. Cold sweat coursed down her forehead as her eyes glazed over into the fluorescent light buzzing calmly above her head. She sank into a haze. 

She summoned what little strength she had to leave the bathroom but collapsed onto the floor instead, her limbs trembling with spasms.

Black.

Bernie and Phyllis stumbled through the lobby and into the elevator. They were laughing and swaying, clear signs of two tipsy revellers. Phyllis fumbled with the elevator buttons, trying to press the right floor number.

Ding!

The faint chime of the elevator lingered through the corridor from the end of the hallway. Bernie pawed through his purse for the key card as they approached the front door in slow easy steps.

"Phyl," he said, swiping the key card against the strip. "If I have to carry you again, I swear-"

"I'll tip you!" she retorted, grinning as she nudged his side wryly. She glanced at the door. "You think Ellie's still up?"

Bernie flipped the card around and allowed a quiet chuckle to escape his lips, "She never sleeps. You know her."

A green light pulsed on the lock.

Beep! 

The door gave way, and they stepped into the faint glow of the room, sinking into the moment with a breath of ease. A hush settled over the space. It was perfectly still, no different than when they had left it five hours earlier.

Bernie groaned, sinking into the nearest sofa. "Phyl, remind me never to wear sequins again."

Phyllis shuffled unsteadily as she bent down to pick up her heels and placed them by the closet. "Copy that, glitter queen. We should've dragged Ellie with us. She would've loved it."

Bernie let out a snicker and pushed himself upright from the cushions.

The half-full coffee machine caught Phyllis's eye as she lingered in the kitchenette for a glass of cold water. "She made coffee? At this hour?"

Bernie chuckled. "Well, if it's still hot, we should worry."

He trailed after Phyllis and lounged comfortably in the chair across from her. His eyes wandered toward the neon glow outside their window, his thoughts distant as they sailed back to the memories they had brewed that evening.

Wet.

Bernie felt a slick dampness and looked down. He noticed a trail of coffee stretched toward his feet. He paused, taking a long look at it. His eyes fixated at the broken pieces of Ellie's favourite mug and the dark liquid that pooled on the floor beneath it.

"...Phyl?"

"What?" 

"Something's not right."

Phyllis turned to Bernie, her smile fading into a look of concern as she tried to tell whether he was joking or being serious. The calm in the room shattered, and an eerie silence fell over them. 

Bernie scanned the room carefully. "Ellie, you okay? You in the bathroom?"

Silence.

Phyllis called out from behind him, her voice firm, a little louder as they neared the bathroom door.

Still silence.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

"Sweetie? Did you fall asleep in there?" Bernie asked, his tone smooth and calm like butter, masking the concern building inside him.

No response.

Phyllis hurried forward and grabbed the knob, her panic rising when she realized the door wouldn't budge.

A beat passed and a jarring cough from the other side of the door pierced the silence. They went pale. Bernie was already five steps away, gathering his strength as if preparing for a feat that demanded every ounce of his spirit.

"MOVE!" he cried out.

With heart-pounding force, he slammed his shoulders against the wooden door groaning with each impact. It shuddered with every hit.

Thud! Thud! Thud! 

CRACK!

At last, the door broke inward and he stumbled immediately, landing in the tub squealing in frustration.

"Goddammit!" he snapped, already losing his steady demeanor. His gaze met the bathroom floor. Before him was a sight that would torment him forever. 

Red. 

Crimson red smearing the off-white tiles like a chaotic painting. 

Ellie lay crumpled on the floor trembling. Blood leaked from her nose trailing down the corners of her mouth. The fluttering of her eyes exposed the whites from beneath her fevered skin.

Bernie lurched forward, his voice rising with panic. "Don't move, baby. I got you. Stay with me." he called out to Phyllis who stood frozen at the door.

She had grabbed her heels from the closet earlier and clutched them tightly to her chest like a weapon. "What is this? What's happening?!"

"Call for help!" Bernie cried out sharply.

She darted to the entryway table and seized the phone, quickly dialling the front desk. 

Ellie coughed again. She was cold, trembling on his arms. He whispered, his voice gentle like a beacon in the dark. "You're going to be okay, you hear me? Don't go quiet on me now."

She didn't utter a word but she stared at him, her eyes silently pleading for help. 

"I'll trade my sequins, my life if I have to, Ellie! Just stay awake."

While the world outside their window carried on, something horrible began to unravel inside their walls.

The storm brewing outside had swelled into something fierce. Heavy rain came down, and the evening buzz of the metropolis lazily settled into a hush. Revellers bolted down dark alleys, their hands above their heads, shielding their flushed faces from the downpour that soaked their leather jackets and designer shoes. Vagabonds returned to their weathered tents for warmth and shelter from the storm that rumbled above their heads. Once-empty residential windows now glowed softly, flickering back to life as their residents prepared to retire to their beds.

In the bathroom, chaos unfolded. Bernie's voice cracked as he gathered Ellie into his arms. Her skin burned up and blood poured nonstop from her nose. She was flushed like she was burning from the inside. Desperate to keep her conscious, he shook her over, and over.

Silence.

Her eyes rolled back, her breath went still. Her arms met the floor with a thud. Bernie held his breath.

Suddenly, her eyes flew open—too wide. The auburn had turned into a deep red like something was burning its way up from the inside. Foam pooled at her mouth, bubbling at the corners of her trembling lips which now curled into a snarl. 

Bernie wailed in terror. Before he could utter another word, Ellie's eyes locked onto his. Her hand shot out suddenly, digging into his forearm with a strength no human should've had, even with her muscular build. He squealed in pain as her nails dug into his flesh like talons, dripping fresh blood from his veins. Her grip tightened even more.

Harder.

He fought to pry her off but her fingers were locked down like iron. Without warning, she let go. Her back arched. Her bones snapped with every movement, twisting unnaturally against the cold tiled floor. Her feet scraped across the tiles beneath her, making a shrill sound as the ceramic burned through her toes.

"Jesus Christ!" Bernie choked, his eyes locked on her, bulging with fear. 

Phyllis didn't dare look back at the horror unfolding across the room. At last, she managed to get the front desk on the line. Her voice rattled as she explained what had happened as clearly as she could.

"My friend, she's bleeding everywhere! I think she's having a seizure or a psychotic breakdown. Just send someone! Unit 32!"

In the bathroom, Ellie's groans had turned into snarls. Her breathing, now coming out in short bursts. Bernie pulled himself up and retreated cautiously, his eyes still locked on her. 

Ellie glanced up, eyes narrowing at him, a quiet groan escaping her lips. She was staring at him now. But not with fear. Not with pain. 

But hunger.

Bernie whimpered. "Ellie? Can you hear me?" 

Under the flickering light of the fluorescent bulb, she was almost unrecognisable. A low growl rumbled from her throat as her mouth stretched unnaturally wide. It burst into a scream. Monstrous, feral, inhuman. Before he could react, she lunged.

He cried out in agony as her teeth into his neck. His scream was raw, desperate, piercing through the concrete walls as he struggled for his life beneath her crushing weight.

Chunks of skin and sinew fell to the floor. He mustered what strength he had left and pounded at her shoulders, desperate to break free. At last, he managed to kick her off, sending her flying across the small bathroom. 

A snarl ripped from her throat. It was abrupt, almost involuntary in nature. She barely paused, unfazed. In one motion, she lunged again, grabbing hold of his leg and biting deep into his calf.

Bernie howled, kicking wildly, slipping on his own blood. He managed to grab the edge of the sink and slammed the bathroom door shut behind him. 

THUD! THUD!

His body crashed against the door with a heavy thud. 

Phyllis stood motionless from the other side of the room, listening as Bernie's screams began to fade. Blood seeped through the gap beneath the door. Its red pigment contrasting sharply against the sterile tile. Tears slid down her cheeks as an unwelcome silence overtook the room.

"Bernie?" she called out.

No answer.

Something tore. Deep. Final. 

She was pulled back by the sound of the phone buzzing in her hand as the front desk had disconnected. With her trembling hands, she tried again. This time, dialling 911.

"Operator. 911, what's your emergency?" a voice answered calmly.

Phyllis panted, her voice paper-thin. "The Aeres Residences. Something's wrong in Unit 32. My friend, she attacked him. He's hurt. She's not herself."

BANG! BANG!

The bathroom door shuddered. The growling intensified with each raspy breath. She fell to her knees, weak. "Please," she whispered, "please send someone-"

CRAAACK!

The door exploded open. Ellie burst through, bloody, like a creature ripped from a nightmare, twitching with every breath, her eyes locked on her. Without warning, she launched herself across the room with inhuman speed.

Phyllis pulled herself up just in time to see Ellie's jaws sink around her neck. Her shattered screams echoed throughout the building.

Black.

The phone hangs loosely on the phone table. The operator's voice, muffled against the sickening squelch of her flesh.

Ellie gasped awake.

Her heart pounded fast. Her forehead, cold, covered in sweat. She caught her breath in short bursts, struggling. The nightmare lingered on like a memory. Blood, flesh, their screams so vivid. It all felt too real.

Throooom!

White.

Thunder grumbled above the sleeping metropolis. Strong. She blinked hard, her eyes scanning the darkness. She let out a heavy sigh and pressed her palms to her face trying to recover from the nightmare.

Only then did she pull back the covers, wrapped around her body as the storm growled on outside over the slumbering city.

"Just a dream." she muttered. But her hands wouldn't stop shaking.