"Dodger, run! Get out of here now!" my mother screamed, ushering me towards the back door.
"What about you and dad? I won't leave without you!"
"Forget about us! Go!"
She pushed me roughly through the door, sending me flying into the backyard with a painful thud.
I tried to push myself to my feet, but I was thrown back violently as the house exploded.
"NO!"
I woke up with a shriek, my gun in my hand before I'd sat all the way up.
My hand pressed to my chest, I took a deep, calming breath.
That was the third night in a row I'd dreamt of the night I lost my parents.
The night Paul found me and took me in.
I had to repress another shriek as John burst into the room, his favourite pair of .38 Smith and Wessons in his hands.
He took a full look around the room before seeing me sitting in bed, completely unharmed.
John sighed and slid the guns into the waistband of his pants before coming over to the bed and sitting next to me.
"Another nightmare?" he asked, gently brushing my hair back.
"Another flashback," I corrected with a soft smile.
John had been like an older brother to me since the moment Paul had brought me back to The Warehouse.
I still wasn't really sure why everyone called it The Warehouse.
It was a lot more like a mansion than a warehouse, but I guess the name was supposed to be ironic or something.
John kissed my forehead, smiling sadly.
"Do you want me to stay?" he asked.
I shook my head, hugging him.
"I'll be alright, John. You just go back to sleep. I'll see you in the morning."
John hugged me back tightly, kissing the top of my head.
"Night, Dodge," he said, mussing my hair slightly before getting up and quietly leaving.
I sighed softly as the door closed, slipping my gun back under my pillow.
If these flashbacks didn't stop, someone was going to get hurt before I knew I was awake.
Shaking my head softly, I laid back down and closed my eyes.