Someone is watching me. His eyes burn into me, but I can't see him. Running the trails around the periphery of the estate, my eyes dart from tree to tree. But the foliage is too thick, and it's impossible to make out a body through the dark curtain.
My breathing ratchets up, as does my pace. The brown dirt path beneath my feet begins to darken. There is a thick substance I'm unable to place. My shoes are covered in red stickiness. A metallic smell wafts through the air.
Fresh blood.
I stifle a scream, move off the path, and run along the side of it.
I try to locate what has lost this much blood.
And then I see them on the path ahead of me. Legs. Clad in dark gray pants, laying haphazardly across the path. A large pool of blood soaks into the dirt.
As I get closer, searching for who the legs belong to, I’m met with nothing. The upper body has been torn from the torso at the waist.
I stumble and nearly fall. I catch myself before hitting the ground. I can't stop, even though everything in me is telling me to abandon this journey. I should turn back, but something dark within me thrusts me forward. Forcing me to confront the truth.
Staggering along the path, I focus on a white dress shirt soaked with blood at the tails. Entrails once neatly packaged and compartmentalized within the body have been strewn across the path, engorged and horrific. I drag my eyes away, searching for something normal in this surreal environment.
Tightly clasped in one of the hands is a piece of white fabric. I train my eyes on it, bringing the dark blue stitching into focus. It looks familiar. I've seen it before, held it in my hands.
"No!" I scream as the block letters come into view and the familiar AS monogram registers in my brain.
Tears stream down my face, clouding my vision. I swipe at them, lift my gaze, prepared to look into Alex’s eyes. But there is only a pool of blood where a head should be.
I feel the scream build, a fireball slowly moving up my throat. I swivel around, trying to locate the missing head.
The silent summer air is shattered as my scream finally breaks free of my chest. "No! Please, God, no!"
I run as fast as I can. It's not clear to me if I'm searching for more fragments of my love or escaping the previous scene.
"Please, no! Please! Not Alex!" My chest heaves. My legs are lead, weighing me down, but I force myself to continue on.
Rounding the next corner, I come to an abrupt halt. The very eyes I was searching for earlier stare back at me. I drop to my knees, retching uncontrollably. Alex's head is lying in the middle of the blood-soaked path, his dead blue eyes glaring at me.
My wail echoes through the trees.
Hands grasp my shoulders. Someone is shaking me. I keep my eyes shut tightly, painfully. I can’t bear to see who has done this. My body turns to stone, frozen in that moment. Fear is the only thing coursing through my veins. I cannot bear to look into Alex's lifeless eyes again.
"Kylie!"
My eyes fly open. The beautiful sea of blue greets me, filling me with light and life. Alex is on his knees in front of the club chair, grasping my upper arms.
I stare, trying to register the grotesque visions of my nightmare with the vivid reality in front of me. His eyes are wide, but the color has drained from his face.
"Alex?" I touch his face and neck. His warmth heats my cold fingers.
"Kylie, it's okay. I'm here, baby. You're okay." His voice is soft but demanding with an edge of despair. He looks into my eyes, willing me to understand, forcing me to come out of the fog of my slumber.
"Alex," I whisper. I slide off the chair and onto his lap. Tears uncontrollably stream down my face, and I bury my head into his neck and sob. I feel him exhale, his arms tightening around me.
"Hey, Kylie, it's okay. You're safe, baby. It was just a bad dream."
Alex gently rocks me, but I continue to sob, clinging tightly to him. I can’t let go. The images flash in my mind, a horrific strobe threatening my sanity. It was so real.
Too damn real.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Alex asks softly, his lips against my cheek as he tries to raise my face.
I shake my head. There is no way I'm putting those visions in his head.
"Please don't worry, Kylie. Please trust me. He will never, ever hurt you again. I'll protect you. I promise."
"I know," I whisper, my head resting along his shoulder, as I try to regain control over my emotions.
We sit there for a few minutes longer, wrapped in each other, until I'm finally able to look into his eyes again. Alex smiles at me as he wipes the tears from my face. I want to tell him how madly I love him, how he has my whole heart and soul.
Instead, I say, "I'm sorry, Alex."
"Baby, why? You have every right to be shaken up by the sight of that cat and the pictures." He lifts my chin and kisses me. But he misunderstands what is happening. The inevitability of the situation. The dream was not just a nightmare—it was a prophecy. I know John. Know what he is capable of. And the dream was not just an exaggeration of my worst fears. It was a roadmap of what is to come.
But I know Alex, too. He will never accept that John could get the best of him. He believes he can save me. And he will never believe John is a threat to his survival.
And I don’t have it in me to argue with him about it. I will have to deal with John on my own. Because I also know John, and there is no way I will underestimate his sadistic brutality.
I melt into Alex, a small portion of the tension and fear encasing my heart releases. I will do everything I can to protect him as fiercely as he has been protecting me. We have a common enemy—John. But I fear the fight will drive us apart, not bring us closer together. We each have a singular purpose—to protect the other. And that purpose means we're no longer on the same team.
"Come on," Alex says, a forced joviality to his voice. "Let's go relax and snuggle in front of the TV. I'll even watch a sappy love story, if you want."
I snicker, climb off his lap, and stand. With the same contrived lightheartedness in my tone, I say, "I already live that."