A sharp scream tore from my throat as I jolted awake, drenched in sweat. My chest rose and fell in ragged breaths, my heart hammering against my ribs as though trying to escape. I clutched the sheets, my fingers digging into the fabric as I struggled to ground myself.
Darkness surrounded me, save for the faint glow of the bedside lamp. My room. I was in my room.
I exhaled shakily, running trembling fingers through my damp hair.
"Just a dream, Matilda. It was just a dream."
But was it?
The woman's screams still echoed in my ears. The metallic scent of blood lingered in my nose. The boy's lifeless eyes—empty, haunting—burned into my mind.
I shuddered.
The weight of the dream clung to me, refusing to fade like normal nightmares. It felt too real.
I reached for my phone and squinted at the screen. 4:14 PM.
I frowned.
That couldn't be right. I had only closed my eyes for a moment... hadn't I?
A deep sigh left my lips as I swung my legs off the bed—only to freeze at the sharp sting in my ankle.
I sucked in a breath and carefully lifted my foot onto the mattress.
A scar.
Right on my ankle.
The same place the woman had dug her nails into my skin in the dream.
A cold knot formed in my stomach. My fingers trembled as I traced the mark.
"No… it can't be."
I shook my head violently. No. There had to be a logical explanation. Maybe I had scratched myself in my sleep. Maybe I had bumped into something and forgotten.
But no matter how much I tried to rationalize it, the unease remained.
Pushing the thoughts aside, I forced myself to stand, wincing slightly at the ache in my ankle. I turned on the bathroom tap and splashed cold water onto my face, gripping the sink tightly as I met my own reflection.
My face was pale. Dark brown eyes filled with uncertainty.
"You're overthinking," I muttered. "It was just a dream."
But deep down, I wasn't sure I believed that anymore.
---
Mia's Apartment
Mia had been my best friend since childhood—practically my sister. She was tall, chubby, and had a dark complexion that made her skin glow effortlessly. Her short, natural curls framed her face perfectly, making her look younger than she actually was.
After losing her parents at a young age, she had been raised by her older brother, Michael. The two of them lived in a self-contained apartment not far from mine.
I reached her doorstep and, as expected, found the door unlocked.
"As usual," I muttered, rolling my eyes.
No matter how many times I told her to start locking her doors, she never listened.
I pushed the door open and stepped inside.
"Mia!" I called, glancing around the parlor.
No response.
Frowning, I stepped further in. The scent of food filled the air, and just as I expected, I heard the clatter of plates from the kitchen.
I smirked. Mia was definitely cooking.
"I'm here," she finally called, walking out of the kitchen with a steaming plate of food. She placed it on the dining table before flopping onto the couch with a tired sigh.
I sat beside her.
"Can I say something?" I started.
"No, I'm not interested," she cut in flatly, grabbing the TV remote.
I sighed. "Mia, this is different, I swear."
She rolled her eyes and turned on the TV, blatantly ignoring me.
I groaned. She had this annoying habit of shutting me out whenever I talked about my dreams.
"Mia."
Still nothing.
"Fine," I muttered. "I suspect something, Mia."
That got her attention. She turned to me, eyes narrowing. "What?"
I hesitated, then leaned closer. "I feel like something is wrong. Like I'm missing something important."
Mia straightened slightly, curiosity flashing in her eyes.
"What do you mean?"
I shook my head, frustration lacing my voice. "I don't know. It's just… a feeling. Like there's something I should remember, but I can't put my finger on it."
She stared at me, lost in thought.
"Mia?"
She blinked, startled. "Huh? Oh… yeah. Uh, you took that too seriously."
I chuckled. "I was just joking."
She hissed and smacked my arm. "You play too much, Matilda!"
Laughing, I stood. "Let's forget it. I'm hungry. What did you cook for me?"
"Rat poison," she replied with a straight face.
I stopped mid-step and turned to her. "Excuse me?"
She smirked. "I mean, there's rat poison on the floor, so be careful."
I exhaled, shaking my head. "You're unbelievable."
She grinned. "I know."
I checked my phone. It was getting late. "I should head home. Michael might be back soon, and I know how he gets when I stay too long."
Mia nodded. "Yeah, you should go before he starts asking unnecessary questions."
I slung my bag over my shoulder. "See you later then."
She smiled. "Bye."
As I stepped out and closed the door behind me, Mia's phone rang.
I paused.
Her voice was different when she answered. Lower. Sharper.
I strained my ears.
"Little suspicious," she muttered.
A deep voice on the other end responded, "Confirm the money."
Then the line went dead.
My stomach twisted.
Mia never talked like that.
I turned slightly, glancing back at the closed door.
She had never mentioned anything about dealing with money like that before. And the way she had spoken—like she was discussing something secret.
I shook my head.
Maybe I was overthinking things again.
Maybe.
Or maybe…
I wasn't.