Another nightmare. Another goddamn fucking nightmare. It was sixth time this week and it was only Thursday. I had been home only two months, just two fucking months, yet every night since I've been plagued with some horrific nightmare or another. They always felt the same. A shriek, a flash of blood, the smell of dampness and decay clouding my senses. It felt like I never left that island at all. I haven't been sleeping, can't eat, can't even bring myself to turn the lights off in my room anymore. I feel like a toddler. Faux confidence was only going to carry me so far.

Afraid of the dark? How much of a pussy can you be? You're at home now. You're fine.

The self-reassurance never did me much good.

Glancing at the clock, I frowned at the time. Two forty-three A.M. I reached for my phone, hoping that maybe playing around on the internet might put me back to sleep. I hadn't dared mention what had happened to me to any of my friends, and as a result, my relationships all went to shit. Sure I'd tried to play it off cool, but in the end, when they asked too many questions, I'd freeze up. God I felt like a loser just thinking about this.

Rolling onto my side, I turned on my phone. It opened to my last message thread, and quietly I began to read over them. It was Claire. Well of course it was who else was I still on decent terms with? Sure, I was grateful for my life, and yes I knew I loved my family, but that didn't take away what happened. "If you need to talk-" "No I'm fine, really." How many times had that exchange happened with me and dad now? If I had only counted...Barry had to have noticed my changes in moods. God it was getting so bad I wouldn't even leave the house at night with someone. Maybe if I had a dollar for every time I lied about being fine, I'd have enough money to afford all that therapy I probably needed.

I stared at my oldest message from the night, reading over Claire's texts slowly.

'You holding up ok?'

'Yeah fine. Just waiting for these fucking cuts to heal.'

'I told you it takes a while. Just spend some time relaxing and you'll be fine in...whenever you're fine.'

'Thanks, that fills me with hope.'

'What can I say, I'm not a doctor. :P'

'Was that an emoji? Next time I see you I'm gonna punch you.'

'Hey I'm still sore too. That wouldn't be fair!'

'It'll be when you least expect it.'

'Get some sleep already. You'll heal faster.'

'How do you know, you're not a doctor~.'

'Well I'm going to bed so you should too.'

'Yeah, yeah, whatever dad.'

'Goodnight, Moira~ 3'

'Do that again and I'll really kick your ass.'

'3'

'Fucker.'

The conversation had almost felt normal. It was nice to forget about what had happened. Claire seemed to be holding up incredibly well. That's why she was picked for that "experiment" anyway wasn't it? She was tough. Too tough. How many times had we brushed death and Claire found the time to make a joke? That couldn't be healthy. Not that repressing it (or rather trying to) was healthy either.

I glanced at the clock again. Yep, still some ungodly time in the morning. I didn't want to wake Claire, but I needed to feel that normalcy again, just for a moment. Please?

'Claire?'

I started at my phone, waiting, watching, anxiously hoping for both a response and a rejection. There was no way in hell she was up. Not at this hour, no fucking chance. I went back to trying to distract myself with other internet goings-on, but all of it felt shallow and pointless. After ten minutes I was ready to give up when the message bar poked in from the top of the screen.

'Yes'm?'

'Why are you up?'

'Why are you?'

'Just wondering how you were..' I sent the message almost without thinking. God it looked stupid, felt even stupider knowing Claire was reading it at three A.M. probably curled up in bed squinting at her phone wondering what the piss was wanted of her now. Would it be too late to delete it? Yep, too late, Claire was writing back already.

'I'm doing alright. You?' I noticed right away she did not mention sleep. Either Claire was functionally immortal and did not need sleep, which at this point I would believe, or she was lying to hide the fact she had been woken up.

'Oh uh...yeah.'

'So what's up?' Alright good, keep it casual, help me fall back asleep. Smart thinking as always, Claire.

I was about to type my next response when I heard a loud crash outside. Immediately my heart froze and I was set into a panic, freezing up on my bed. I had done well to suppress all of my fear before, but I hadn't been alone then. No stupid bracelet on my arm now to tell my when to be afraid so damn it I would be.

'Fuck fuck fuck claire theres something outside fuck' I managed to write, forcing my fingers to move enough to get my point across. No text response came, and instead my phone immediately began to ring.

Sound brave, sound brave... "H-...Hello?" Fuck

"Moira?" It was Claire, well of course it was who else would be calling me now. Her voice was filled with concern, and she spoke in that same soothing tone she had when we first woke up in Hell together. "Moira are you alright? Talk to me."

I nodded at first before realizing Claire couldn't actually see me. "I'm here."

"What happened?"

"I heard a noise..." I hadn't talked about it before this, hadn't shown any weakness so upfront. I felt on the verge of tears. So much shit for so long... Was this what going to war was like? No way. I could tell myself this was fucking worse, that it had to be, but I wasn't sure even I believed that. The two situations just weren't on equal footing. Maybe that was for the best.

"What kind of noise? Do you need me to come over?"

Need no; want probably. "I-I'm okay Barry's- dad's home. I don't think he heard it though...I didn't hear anyone get up."

"Where'd you hear it from?"

"It was like...right outside my fucking window..." I mumbled, knowing that on the second floor I should be reasonably safe. Should be didn't mean I felt it.

"Can you look outside for me. I can be there in three minutes if I need to." She sounded confident enough. That helped.

"Just talk to me instead?" I asked, not daring to set one foot on the floor for fear of what was lurking beneath my bed. It felt so childish yet I couldn't fight the urge to hide myself away.

Claire was quiet for a moment as she thought up some topic to keep me occupied. "Would you like to come over tomorrow?" She offered. "We can go for a ride together. Get some pizza and watch a movie or something."

"Sounds like a really shitty date."

"That's the idea." She laughed, though it didn't sound entirely genuine. "Nothing quite grounds you back in reality like a few bad dates. So what do you say?"

"Can I...stay the night too? I won't take up a lot of room."

"If your dad says it's okay, sure. I don't see why you can't. Is the noise gone?"

"Yeah it's...I think it's gone."

"Can you check for me now?"

I stood up slowly, creeping over to the window. I kept my footsteps light, fearful that something may hear me and come to take me away again. Barely peaking out from behind my blinds, I saw the real horror of what lie outside. Something had knocked over their trashcans. "Fucking raccoons!" I said, feeling a quick sense of relief, followed by complete and utter shame. "Fucking scared the shit out of me..."

"Back into bed, you." Claire said, listening as I did just that, hiding myself under the blankets with the light, of course, still on.

"Look I'm sorry I made you call, it just-…"

"Shh. No apologizing for that. I told you to get a hold of me when you needed to talk. You needed to talk."

"Well yeah, but it's a shitty time to be texting."

"It's fine, Moira, don't sweat it. I'll call tomorrow and we'll set up a time for me to come get you. Deal?"

"Deal. Oh and...Claire?"

"Hm?"

"Thanks for calling...It was, uh- It was nice to, y'know, hear your voice?" Damn that sounded gay.

"Any time. Need me to stay on the line or are you alright?"

While I was far, far from alright, my embarrassment drove me to say I was, thus ending the conversation. Sleep wouldn't come any easier unless I was fatigued to the point of literally passing out, and then once I'd gotten enough sleep, the dreams would return. They always did.