**Chapter 1: The Nightmare**
**Lena’s POV**
I stood at our bedroom door, watching him. I usually slept in the living room, but maybe this time I should sleep in the bedroom. After all, I was now an older sister who needed to look after my eleven-month-old baby sister.
That was what I thought—until I reached the doorway and saw something that could traumatize an adult and destroy a three-year-old girl like me.
He was on top of her, moving fast. She was crying and bleeding heavily, but he didn’t stop. He didn’t care. I gasped out loud. That was my greatest mistake.
He turned and looked at me. The expression on his face was nothing like the one I had grown up loving. It was cold. Menacing. He rose slowly and walked toward me the way a sick, psychotic patient might.
I spun around and tried to run, but he caught me easily. His voice was a low whisper against my ear.
“C’mon, Lena. Don’t you wanna have fun?”
I started screaming.
“No, please—no, please—no, please—”
I cried and screamed as loud as I could.
“Nooooooo!”
I jerked awake in bed, soaked in sweat. Another nightmare.
I turned to the alarm that had just gone off. A few minutes past five. I got up, made coffee, and let the nightmare replay in my head.
I have nightmares every time I go to bed—bad ones, because of my past. The therapist says I’m traumatized. Fuck them. I refuse to be a traumatized patient.
When the coffee was gone, I headed to the gym for a one-hour workout to keep my body in shape.
I’m Lena. Twenty years old. College student. No friends. Don’t ask me why. That’s all you need to know about me for now.
After the gym I came home, showered, and got ready for class. As I turned to lock the door, a notification lit up my phone. From my mother.
My mood soured the second I saw her name.
**Bridgette:**
*Honey, how are you doing? I know you won’t answer my calls or reply to my texts, but I just want you to know that I love you so much. I sent you money for your upkeep this week. Please try to visit me when you’re free. It’s been close to five years since we’ve seen each other. I love you.*
I deleted the message without answering, shoved the phone into my back pocket, and locked the door. Black hoodie. Baggy black shorts. That was my uniform.
I was already late for class, but who cared? I was still the best student in my department. I walked to my car, put on my headset, and played “Bloodstream” by Alyssa Grace. Then I started the engine and drove to campus.
I kicked the classroom door open and walked in without sparing the male lecturer a glance, heading straight for my seat. He didn’t bother calling me out. He was used to me by now.
A few gasps and snickers rose from the other students. I ignored them. The class was boring, so I put my headset back on, played my favorite song, and rested my head on the desk.
I was just about to slip into another nightmare when someone shook my shoulder. I snapped my head up and glared. He apologized immediately and pointed at the lecturer.
*Ah, fuck. Must we do this every day when you already know I’m still going to embarrass you?* I muttered under my breath.
