It was midnight in the wet, deserted streets of the alley. Sonny Monroe kept pace with her own shadow, cast by the moonlight. No street lamps shone. No shop signs flashed 'open,' or showed any sign of life whatsoever.

She counted her steps aloud. "One…two…three…four." She stopped. Held her breath.

The second pair of footsteps quelled. But she knew she heard them.

Someone was behind her.

Sonny turned.

A body lay sprawled across the side walk, cuts clogged with blood and dirt, shirt ripped to reveal the heaving chest.

"Help me," the body said.

Sonny broke into a fit of hysteria. "Chad!" she screamed, running desperately toward him, and dropping to her knees beside his hurt body. "Chad!" she pleaded. "Please, what can I do?"

Chad grunted, and shifted, a dozen times over, as if an imaginary person was striking him. And every few seconds, a new cut split open somewhere on him, and blood trickled out.

"Make them stop," he groaned to Sonny, grabbing her wrist, and barring into the skin, until she was bleeding too. "They're hurting me."

"I can't see them, Chad!" Sonny screeched, crying hysterically. Salty tears tumbled off her chin, and fell on him, stinging his cuts.

"Chad!"

No answer.

"CH-CH-CHAAAAAAD!" Sonny screamed, tearing her throat raw. "No, no! Chad!' She fell over his body, wrapping his shirt in her fists.

I sat up in the darkness, crying and drowning against someone's shirt.

"Let me go!" I gasped, struggling to break free.

"Shh…Sonny," a soft voice whispered, as a hand stroked my hair. "It was a nightmare. You're okay."

"Mom," I whispered, trembling. I took in a deep gulp of air. I smelled perfume and coffee: what she always smelled of. I didn't mind. The smell was familiar, and very comforting.

"Oh, honey!" Mom exclaimed. She held my wrist in her hands. "You're bleeding."

She ran down the hall to get wrappings. I didn't even look down at it.

I was never good around blood. Even if it was my own.
"Mom, I'm fine," I told her when she came back.

She ignored me, and slowly began wrapping the cut area.

It stung so bad, but I tried not to think about it.

"You're not fine, Sonny," Mom said finally. "You've been shut in your room for days, now. When was the last time you had anything to eat?"

"I don't know."

A while.

"That's it. You're going back to work today."

"Mom, please. I can't." I fell back against my pillows, staring up at the ceiling and willing her to leave me alone.

"I'm opening the blinds, Sonny," Mom said stubbornly. "You need some sunlight."

She walked to the door. "I expect you down for breakfast in ten minutes," she said, before the door.

I got up, closed the blinds, and fell back on the bed.

Someday, I'd eat again. Just not today.

I tore the wrappings off my wrist, and tossed them on the floor. I sighed.

Someday, this will all be over.

Someday, I'll stop dressing in sweats. When I get to work, I'll look nice and feel beautiful once again. And I'll actually have the courage to smile back, when you smile at me.

Someday, we'll be best friends, and have lunch together in the cafeteria. Even Tawni, Zora, Nico, and Grady will grow to like you, and we can all hang out and laugh until our sides ache.

I got up again, and began to get dressed. You guessed it—I'm wearing sweats.

I'm wearing sweats because there's no point in looking beautiful anymore. No point in hoping we'll be friends or even that you'll ever love me.

Because, Chad Dylan Cooper. That nightmare wasn't just a nightmare; it was a memory.

And someday, I'll except that you're dead, and someday will never come.