Summary: At Dean's new high school there is a rumour about a second year who will date the first person who asks him out on Monday morning, only to break up with them a week later. Dean thinks nothing of it at first, but when he meets the boy he asks him out on a whim. It was a joke, or at least he thought it was. Turns out the best friendships in life are those you don't see coming.

Timeline: The year is 1996. Dean is 17.

Warnings: Foul language, violence, child abuse, and other adult themes.

A/N: I took the idea for this story from a manga called "Seven Days" (yes, I took the name too) so please give credit to the writer, Tachibana Venio, and the artist Takarai Rihito. I just thought it was an interesting concept and wanted to put a Supernatural spin on it, so no copyright infringement intended. Anyway, read the manga because it's absolutely adorable. This story is a lot less adorable and a whole lot more dark, but I hope you enjoy it too.


SEVEN DAYS

Monday

9:10 AM

I sighed as I twirled my pen between my fingers, not even pretending to concentrate on what the teacher was saying. The old woman's voice was soft and quiet, making her lesson even more uninteresting, if that were possible. Listening would only put me to sleep, and I refused to nap now. I wanted to say it was because a hunter never let his guard down, but the nightmares were the real reason. I didn't want to suffer through another one so soon. Not after the one I had experienced last night. And the night before that. And the one before that…

I tried to stop the memory from rising up before me now, but it came unbidden, like some sort of unwanted visitor crashing through my mind's door. I recalled the woman's eyes, wide and terrified, as she was ripped apart. The image tormented me on a regular basis, never beckoned but always vivid. For a moment I thought I could hear her screaming and I sat rigid in my chair, my hand grasping the pen I had been fiddling with until my knuckles turned white. I wanted to stand up and shout and knock desks over but I forced myself to remain still and quiet, determined to ride the adrenaline rush as I told myself it was just a recollection.

I was sitting in a classroom. I was not standing in the middle of a forest path. I was surrounded by high school students. I was not near creatures that would haunt the dreams of these teenagers if they ever saw one. I was staring at a chalkboard. I was not, in fact, staring at the shredded remains of a human being.

It was a difficult task to accomplish. I had not slept well for the past few days and I was already fighting exhaustion caused by the combat drill I had pushed myself through earlier that morning. I was entering the stage of sleep deprivation where I stopped giving a crap about whether people thought I was crazy or not. Screaming and hitting things right now didn't seem like that bad of an idea. Maybe while I was at it I could tell all these dumbasses the truth about their world. I wouldn't mind shattering their realities. I could crush the shards into a million pieces.

As I focused on my breathing, trying to calm myself down and avoid making a scene, I looked around the classroom, wondering if anyone knew what I was thinking about. The guy to my left had his head propped up by a hand, clearly bored out of his mind. The girl to my right was scribbling things in a notebook, trying hard to record every single one of the teacher's words. No one was paying attention to what I was thinking or feeling or doing. That both comforted and dismayed me.

I began to watch the clock. Minutes ticked by like they were purposely taking their time to annoy me. There were still ten minutes left of class but I wasn't sure if I would make it. I finally managed to release my grip from the pen I held and placed it calmly on the top of my desk. Then I raised my hand.

"Yes, Dean?"

"Can I go to the washroom?" I asked quickly.

The teacher smiled warmly at me and I tried to remember her name, but gave up quickly. "Of course you may."

I bolted out of there like the place was on fire. I didn't go to the washroom, but instead exited the building through the back doors, entering "the garden", as the students liked to call the walled-in area behind the school. I immediately made my way to an isolated stretch of the brick wall that surrounded the space, fighting the urge to punch the structure and break my fingers. Instead, I slammed the heel of my hand against the wall, again and again, taking in the pain as the gritty texture of the bricks scratched at my skin.

The rush of energy that had swelled inside of me only minutes before began to dissipate, until my body followed my brain and entered its own stage of exhaustion. I was spent, a breeze making me shiver as it cooled the sweat slicking my skin.

School is a fucking joke. That's what I thought as I leaned against the wall and let my head fall back. Anger was quickly replacing the adrenaline, just like it always did, and I geared it towards school because I didn't want to risk another attack.

Attack. That's what I called it, because I didn't really have another name for the reaction I had just experienced. All I knew was that I felt that way whenever I thought about-

I stopped myself from thinking altogether. Then I released a long sigh, my heartbeat finally beginning to return to its original tempo. The fresh air seemed to calm me, although its frigidness burned my throat a little. All those kids in there have no fucking clue.

It had only been a week since I had arrived at Kimberley Trenton High School. Located in South Boston, the school was neither in the safest area nor the wealthiest. The wall I was leaning against was supposed to keep unwanted visitors out. However, I figured it had probably been constructed with the intent of trapping the students inside. Even the area I was standing in looked like some sort of overgrown prison yard. It was clear that it had once been a garden, but the plants had been neglected over the years and were now just a bunch of scraggly weeds plotted randomly across the space. A couple of isolated bleachers had been pushed against the far wall, but they were rusty and often held puddles in the numerous dents that littered their metal frames.

I glanced at the back of the old, deteriorating school building, shoving my hands in my pockets as another gust of chilly air ran past me. I knew the interior was warm, but I couldn't stand to be in there any longer. It was always the fucking same. High school had become a parody of itself. It seemed everyone knew it, but they were all too indifferent to care. Instead, they all played their parts. The jocks would hassle the nerds in the hallways and the pretty, popular girls would flirt with anything that walked by with a social status. The teachers took every excuse they could to feign teaching while complaining about their small paycheques in their undersized lounge room. Useless rumours would spread like wildfire, beginning at one end of the cafeteria and reaching the opposite side before the lunch bell with plenty of time to spare for a smoke in the bathroom. I had seen it in every high school I had come across, and I was sick of it.

It felt like I'd been here for much longer than seven days. It always did, no matter what school I enrolled in, perhaps because they were all the same, blending with each other to form one giant memory of educational institutions that never seemed to end. I consoled myself by remembering that there was only one year left before I graduated. One more year of high school. If I could survive a poltergeist attack, I could certainly survive this, or so I hoped.

Something large and heavy dropped from the sky and landed to my side, immediately setting off my instincts. I was crouching with a knife ready in my right hand, eyes quickly darting to the object that lay before me, trying to decipher what it was and how I would counter any attack it made. But then I realized it was only a backpack. A plain, black bag.

I heard scuffling and then I was looking up. The sun blinded my view but it was suddenly obstructed by a dark figure. Someone was climbing over the brick wall, and in moments the intruder had jumped down and was standing a few feet from me.

I sighed again as I slipped the knife back into its hidden position next to my shin, making sure the stranger didn't catch a glimpse of it. Then I slid down the wall and sat on my haunches. I had come out here to get away from school and the teachers and the students, but it seemed it was impossible to find privacy anywhere on this property.

The boy stooped down and grabbed his bag by a strap, flinging it onto his back, not seeming to care if his clothes got dirty from the dirt that now smeared the bag. I watched him using my peripheral vision, unwilling to look up and preferring to remain silent. I wasn't going to ask what the guy had been doing scaling the wall, because honestly, I didn't give a shit. If he was late and trying to arrive without being penalized, mission accomplished. I wasn't about to rat the guy out. After all, I had asked for a washroom break nearly ten minutes ago. I wasn't exactly the example of a model student myself.

"Sorry if I startled you," a quiet voice said.

"You didn't," I grunted. "I don't get scared that easily."

"That's... good I suppose." The student's reply was hesitant, and I wondered why he had replied at all, why he was still talking to me and not rushing to class. "I can't say the same for myself."

I wasn't sure why, but the unusual statement caught my attention and I found myself glancing upwards. The boy was standing to my left, his face turned away from me, looking off in the direction of the school. His hair was black, and when the sun shone on it, the strands appeared to have a bluish tinge.

"You one of those kids who're still afraid of the monster under your bed?" I asked. I had stopped being afraid of that monster a long time ago, ever since I realized there were real monsters to be feared.

"Monsters are real, you know," the boy said without looking at me. It seemed like the statement had been made more for his ears than for mine.

I furrowed my eyebrows, not having expected such a reply. "What?"

The guy glanced my way before leaning back against the brick wall, his hands shoved in his pockets like mine had been only minutes ago. He was staring upwards now, at the sky, the colour of his eyes a deep, reddish brown. I couldn't stop myself from thinking that he was peculiar looking, though not necessarily in a bad way. If I had to guess, I'd say he was half-Asian. His eyes reminded me of a cat's.

"Monsters," he repeated. "I've seen them."

I felt my heartbeat pick up again. "You go around telling people that, they might think you're crazy," I warned, wondering if he knew the truth. Was he different from all the other students?

Dark eyes turned in my direction. The boy smiled faintly, a little by force. "You're right. Forget I said anything."

I cocked my head to the side. Then I stood up, straightening my back. I was slightly taller than the guy, but not by much. "What's your name?"

"Bryce," he replied. "My name is Bryce Caldwell."

I thought the name sounded familiar. Then I remembered. I had heard rumours about this kid, rumours that he would go out with the first person who approached him on a Monday morning, but only to break up with them after seven days. It was like clockwork, I had been told, but girls continued to ask him out because each and every one thought she would be the one who would last longer. None had made it yet, and apparently he never went out with the same girl twice.

I nodded my head slowly. "Huh. So you're the Seven Days guy."

He looked surprised. "You've heard about that?"

"The whole school talks about it. I've only been here a few days and I already know the entire story. I'm guessing you were scaling the wall to avoid the front gate and all the lovely young ladies lined up to ask you out, huh?"

He looked down at the ground. "I didn't know so many people knew about it."

"Well apparently you've got half the school's population asking you out. I don't think something like that goes unnoticed very often."

The guy let out something that sounded like a laugh, but not quite. He was smiling by force again when he lifted his head. "I guess not."

I raised an eyebrow. "So it's true then? You'll go out with the first person who approaches you on Monday morning?"

He nodded his head and I couldn't help but laugh. I was shaking my head when I said, "That's such bullshit." Bryce looked a little taken aback, so I decided to clarify. "You're telling me that even if the ugliest chick in the school came up to you right now and asked you out, you'd say yes? You'd date her for a week?"

Bryce shrugged. "I guess so."

"Yeah right," I scoffed, leaning a shoulder against the wall. "I don't buy that."

The guy looked like he was a little offended as he replied, "I'm not lying."

"All right, then how about this." I took a step forward, narrowing the distance between us. "What would you say if I asked you out?" His eyes widened and I felt a little satisfaction at having stumped him. "Come on," I teased. "I'm asking you out. What are you going to say?"

He opened his mouth to reply but then closed it again. I let out a chuckle at his speechlessness. "That's what I thought," I said, having called his bluff. He scowled, but before he could reply the bell rang, signifying the end of first period. I smirked and turned away, making my way back to the building's rear entrance.

I stopped after a few steps, looking over my shoulder. I had enjoyed this little distraction. I felt more like my normal self again. "And don't worry about the monster under your bed," I called back. "If it were real, you'd probably be dead by now." Then I continued my trek back to school, wondering what would be today's lunch special.

12:18 PM

"One helping of Monday Surprise", the old bat croaked as she shovelled a heaping pile of dog shit onto my plate. I grimaced, but tried to continue smiling as I leaned forward over the counter.

"Eleanor, you know I love surprises," I lied, "but I'm willing to bet you have something better than this. You know, like some actual edible-"

"Next!" she shouted, her expression not budging from the scowl permanently imprinted on her face.

Had I really expected anything more? Still, I had to try. "Eleanor, did you get a haircut recently? There's something different about you…"

She looked at me, clearly not amused in the slightest. "Ever since you've started coming to this school I've grown nauseated by your attempts at compliments," she replied in a deep, rusty voice. "So nauseated, in fact, that I haven't been able to eat my own lunch for a week."

I couldn't help but smirk. "You're a tough lady to impress, Eleanor. I hope you enjoy your lunch today as much as I enjoy mine." I held up my tray to show the sloppy mess of crud splattered across the plate. Then I reluctantly shuffled down the line, allowing the next student to discover what surprise Monday held.

God, I hated Mondays.

The cafeteria was busy but I managed to find an empty table in the corner, just like always. I had a suspicion that it was somehow reserved for me, and it didn't take a genius to know who had gone through the trouble of making that happen. As I sat down, a carton of milk and an apple accompanying my Monday Surprise, I was immediately joined by another. Katie Lancaster. Head cheerleader, president of the student body, and hottest chick in school. She had set her sights on me from the very first moment I had walked into Spanish class on my first day, and she had made it glaringly clear to every other girl in the school that I was her property. Those who flirted with me were pretty much committing social suicide. Katie could make your life a living hell if she wanted to, and from what I'd heard, she had done it for a lot less.

I wasn't her property, of course, but sometimes I tossed her a bone and played my part. Like I said, she was hot, and she also happened to find it thrilling when her hand 'accidentally' came across my dick in Spanish class. Getting a hand job beneath the desks at the back of class sure as hell beat focusing on conjugated vowels and how to say 'I am wearing blue pants' in a different language. The only other lingo I was willing to learn was Latin, and that was only because it was known to save hunters' lives from time to time.

"Hi, Dean," Katie smiled, her perfectly straight teeth gleaming a little brighter than normal. I guessed she had undergone some kind of new whitening procedure. They were almost unnaturally bright.

"Hey, Katie," I said, returning my gaze to my tray. I pretended to find my Monday Special appealing as I pushed the brown goop around on my plate, but I never attempted to shovel a spoonful into my mouth. Meanwhile, Katie began to chatter away. She talked about her upcoming 18th birthday and all the fun things she planned to do, like throw the biggest party the school would ever see. Her parents were going to be out of town for a few days, leaving their apartment free to host a party, and she was going to invite only an exclusive number of people to attend. Apparently I was among the lucky few.

I sighed silently to myself, my stomach growling. Why Katie, a rich white girl, was slumming it in this rundown school was beyond me. Apparently she had been kicked out of every private school in Boston due to inappropriate behaviour. I'd heard rumours that she had even broken up several teachers' marriages. These rumours had interested me at first, but after spending a few hours with the girl I had quickly come to the conclusion that she was all talk, or gossip, in her case. She had probably started those rumours herself, because even though she was willing to give hand jobs out in class, it was glaringly obvious that she was still a virgin. I had been with enough girls, and enough types of girls, to know this easily, and to understand that Katie would never admit it.

As she continued to talk, I grew bored quickly. I eventually tuned out and began to look around the cafeteria. It had grown busier since I had sat down, and as my vision skimmed across the tables and their occupants, I met several sets of eyes that flitted away as soon as I met theirs. Of course Katie and I were a hot topic around the school and were often watched during our lunchtime together. Everyone wondered if we were secretly dating, which sometimes amused me but usually just annoyed the hell out of me.

My roaming eyes halted as I caught sight of the boy from earlier. I recalled his name was Bryce. He was sitting at a seat a few tables away, a number of girls surrounding him. They were all giggling about something but he wasn't laughing. He was smiling politely instead, but I could tell it was an act. I had learned from a very young age the importance of being able to tell a fake smile from a real one, and Bryce's was as fake as they came. However, the girls didn't seem to notice as they continued to giggle. I found myself wondering which one of them was the lucky week-long girlfriend Bryce had chosen this morning.

The kid suddenly looked in my direction. Our eyes met for a moment and I held his gaze. The staring contest was born more out of alpha male instinct than anything else. The guy didn't seem like he was going to look away, but then one of the girls snuggled next to his shoulder and he was distracted. I held back a sneer, wondering why he had scaled a wall earlier today to avoid being found by the girls who apparently fawned over him on a daily basis. Then I remembered I was supposed to be listening to Katie and guessed I could relate to him. Girls weren't everything. Sex wasn't always great. Life wasn't always sunshine and lollipops.

I left lunch early to have a cigarette in the men's washroom, leaving a disappointed Katie behind. I didn't smoke often, but I had picked up the bad habit a few months ago, around the same time my attacks had begun. Nicotine didn't stop the images from replaying behind my eyelids, but the whole lung cancer thing made me feel a little better. If I smoked, it was like I was aiding karma. In the future, if I ever developed cancer, I'd know it was punishment for not being able to save that woman. I had told my dad this same reasoning when he had caught me smoking behind one of the motels we were staying at a few weeks after the event. John had torn the cigarette from my lips, had grabbed my chin, and had forced me to look at him as he told me I was a fucking moron.

I am a fucking moron, I thought as I inhaled another lungful of toxic chemicals, despising the taste. I ground the stub out in the sink, leaving a black smudge on the yellowing porcelain. Then I splashed some water on my face and observed my reflection in the mirror for a moment. I looked tired, but not as exhausted as I felt.

I ran a hand down my face as I let out a sigh and turned away. As I left my reflection, I was surprised to see someone standing at the entrance of the washroom. It was Bryce. He was watching me with no discernible expression on his face. We both said nothing for a moment, but then I eventually spoke up. "You need to use the stall or something?" I asked, wondering why he was just standing there. "I'm leaving, so go ahead and take care of your business." I went to walk past him but Bryce stepped in front of my path.

"You shouldn't smoke."

"What?" I gave him a quizzical look, raising one of my eyebrows.

"It's bad for you," he said, his expression still nonexistent. "It causes cancer, makes you smell bad, and turns your skin yellow. Not to mention it makes you look like a moron."

I rolled my eyes, wondering where this was all coming from. "You sound like my dad."

"Your dad sounds smart."

I pinned him with a glare. "He is smart, but you obviously aren't, thinking you can tell me what I can and can't do. Now move out of my way."

I tried to shove past him again but he just took a step back. "I think I have the right to have an input."

I couldn't help but openly scoff. "What the fuck makes you think you have any say in what I do?"

He tilted his head to the side. "Well... we're dating, aren't we?"

I didn't quite have a reaction. I stood there silently, turning his words over in my mind, trying to interpret them in various ways. I eventually came to the conclusion that I had misheard. I let out a bit of a disbelieving laugh, feeling foolish for having conjured up such a scenario. "Sorry, what did you say?" I asked him.

He blinked, but then repeated the same words I had dismissed earlier. "We're dating."

I knew I should be laughing right now, but the sound caught in my throat. The look on Bryce's face was completely serious. "You're fucking with me, right?" was all I could say.

Bryce shook his head, dark strands bouncing back and forth. "You asked me out. You were the first to ask me out this morning, so I'm dating you."

I was flabbergasted. This guy was serious. He thought we were actually a couple. "It was a joke," I explained, making sure my words were clear. "I don't actually want to date you."

Bryce shrugged. "But you asked me. I have to go out with you now."

I rubbed my eyes. "I'm straight, dude."

"I told you I'd date anyone who asked me," he replied in a determined tone. "That doesn't just go for the ugliest girl in school."

I gave him an annoyed look. "You're messed up, you know that?"

"Appearance doesn't bother me," he said. "I suppose that is a little strange, and I guess you can call it messed up, but it's the way I think. Now, I had to reject three girls today because you had already asked me out. If they find out I'm not dating anyone then they're going to be upset."

"Then let them be fucking upset," I said, not quite understanding his reasoning and becoming more pissed off. "Besides, it's called lying. Try it."

Bryce shook his head once more. "I don't lie."

"Everyone lies."

"Not me."

"Then your life must be pretty fucking tough."

"It does get bothersome at times, like when fourth year males ask me out."

I scoffed, but I didn't know what to say in retaliation. Technically, I had asked the guy out. It had been a joke, of course, but apparently Bryce hadn't gotten the punch line. I looked away, trying to decide how to handle this bizarre situation. When I returned my gaze to him, the kid was still staring at me, but a crease had appeared between his eyes. It didn't look like he was willing to give this crazy prank up.

"Look, I'm not going to let you walk around telling everyone that we're dating or some messed up shit like that. You have to understand what I'm telling you. I'm not interested. Not in you. Not in your stupid little weekly game. Not in this fucking school. I'm gonna be gone from here soon, anyway, so go find someone else to piss off, all right? Or better yet, go make one of those girls I saw you with earlier happy. Kapish?"

For a fraction of second I saw a flash of something cross his face, but before I could discern the emotion it was gone and he was looking down. "Fine," he said. "I won't bother you anymore today." I wondered where his determination had disappeared to in such a short time, but he had already turned around and left the washroom.

I stood in place for a few minutes afterwards, wondering how I had found myself in such a strange position. But then I simply shook my head and made my way out of the room, already late for chemistry class. Seemed like high school could still surprise me.

10:23 PM

"Dean."

Dating? Had he actually been serious? Or had Bryce just been getting back at me for playing with him earlier?

"Deeean."

It was so fucking hard to tell with that stupid expressionless face he always had. Would it really kill the guy to lift an eyebrow, maybe smile a little for once and mean it?

Deeeeeean."

"What?" I snapped, whipping my head to the side in order to glare at my little brother.

Sam didn't seem fazed by my death stare as he looked at me from his position on the other queen-sized bed. "I asked you to turn up the volume. I can't hear anything."

I rolled my eyes, something I seemed to be doing a lot of lately. We were watching one of Sam's boring documentaries again. I usually didn't mind the ones that involved animal chases and zebras getting pulled apart by hungry lions or hyenas, but ever since witnessing a similar scene involving a human being, I didn't quite have the appetite for them any longer. Luckily, this one was about forensic science, and although it was boring as shit it was better than nothing.

I turned up the volume with the remote and leaned back against the bed's backrest, watching as a woman dressed in a white lab coat placed a slide beneath a microscope and leaned in to examine it. A man's deep voice was saying something about DNA and matching chromosomes, but I quickly tuned out again.

I found myself wondering what was going to happen tomorrow, whether Bryce would continue on with this stupid idea of his or reveal it all to be a joke. I hated the fact that it was bothering me, especially if it turned out to be a stupid joke after all, so I pushed the thoughts from my mind.

A few minutes later the door banged open and our dad walked in. He was wearing a ratty work coat and a faded blue ball cap, both of which were soaked from the heavy rain outside.

"Dad!" Sam beamed as he bounced off the bed and ran to help our father with his jacket. He struggled to hang the heavy coat on a hook by the door, too short to reach. He was busy scrambling atop a chair as John turned to face me. He gave me a nod in greeting and I nodded back. I didn't let the relief I felt show on my face.

"You boys eat dinner yet?" he asked as he placed a hand on Sam's head, ruffling his hair.

"Dean bought us some burgers. They were gross."

John chuckled. "I bet they were."

I wanted to ask him how the hunt had gone, whether he had succeeded in killing the Succubus he was hunting or if he was just here for a reprieve, to gather more information. Before I got the chance to question him he was already making his way to the bathroom, mumbling about how he needed a good, hot shower.

I sighed as Sam scurried back onto his bed and continued to watch the documentary. He didn't seem upset that our dad had been gone for the past week. Usually I wouldn't have minded either - both of us were used to being left by ourselves, sometimes even for months. What bothered me was that John had not asked me to accompany him on this hunt. I knew babysitting Sam or missing school were not the reasons for him doing so. He had refused to bring me along for a number of hunts, ever since I messed up. Ever since I had gotten that woman killed. He had never told me that was the reason, since we never talked about it, but I knew. I wondered if he'd ever trust me again after that disaster.

When John came out of the shower, dressed and clean, I didn't feel like discussing the hunt with him anymore. Instead, I pretended to be absorbed by Sam's documentary, staring straight ahead at the small, crappy television screen. Sam ran off to brush his teeth and I was surprised when John asked me how school was. "Same as usual," I answered, shrugging.

"You make any friends?"

I held back a smirk. "There's a really friendly girl in my Spanish class. She gives me a hand whenever I need it."

"That's good," John said, though I could tell he wasn't really paying attention. Something else was on his mind, and when I looked over at him he was nodding his head slowly, staring off into space.

"Dad?" I called. My voice seemed to snap him out of whatever thought he had lost himself in. "You okay?"

"Yeah," he answered gruffly. "Just tired." He pulled the covers away from the bed and climbed in. "You and Sam only have to share a bed for tonight. I'm leaving again in the morning."

I didn't say anything as I shut off the TV and turned the light off, getting under my own covers. I lay on my side, facing the window, and listened to the sound of a running tap drifting from the bathroom. Sam always insisted on brushing his teeth for two and a half minutes. He even counted. Sometimes I saw his fingers move with the seconds, each rising and then his whole hand crumpling in as he began another set of five. Most kids hated brushing their teeth. I knew I had lied countless times to my mom when she had asked me every night whether I had done it. After she died the question had stopped being asked, and so I had sometimes gone days without brushing. I had the cavities to prove it. Not Sam, though. He was always diligent about it.

I heard the click of the door and then Sam was climbing into the bed next to me. Soon soft snoring filled the room. Both my brother and my father were asleep, but as hard as I tried I couldn't bring myself to close my eyes. I couldn't stop staring at the white, flimsy curtain that covered the large motel window. Behind it, rain pounded the cars resting in the parking lot and the faded asphalt they stood upon.

I was tired as hell, but I knew as soon as I let my eyes slide closed I would see that image in my head again. It would replay on the back of my eyelids like a crappy film strip, over and over again until I was sick. Even if sleep did happen to claim me, I knew I would relive it in my dreams. Part of me longed to experience that, because maybe that way I'd be able to save her. Maybe I would reach her before it was too late and she was bleeding out on the floor, wide, scared eyes staring up at me, asking me why I hadn't saved her, why I had let her die. But I knew I would have to wake up sooner or later, and when reality squirmed its way back into my consciousness I would remember what had really played out and the pain would be as fresh as that day.

Inhaling deeply, I prepared myself for another long, sleepless night.