(Gerard’s P.O.V) Monday morning 2:22am

I woke up gasping for air, a cold sweat plastering my lank, greasy hair to my forehead. The clock read 2:22am. A branch whips against my bedroom window as a storm raged outside, and I flinched in sudden fear. Dread spiked my blood pressure and my eyesight seemed to sharpen, darting around my room and focusing unerringly on the black hole of my doorway. I pulled in a deep, shaky breath and concentrated on how the warm air felt on my freezing hands when I exhaled; trying to ignore the wind and rain that pummelled the side of the house. I shuddered, attempting to comfort myself in the fact that Mum and Mikey were only a few metres from me down the hall.
I rolled out of the cosy cocoon of blankets, checking all the corners of the room for danger before letting my feet hit the ground. A chill shot up my back when my warm feet planted themselves firmly on the unheated wooden floor. Hurriedly slipping on my jeans I grabbed my sketchbook before leaving my room, being as quiet as possible.
I walked down the black hallway focusing on keeping my steps silent and slow, not on how the dark was closing in on me. Most of the time I love the dark but tonight was too cold. It was the type of cold that told you something bad had just happened. I could hear my heart beating as my imagination started running wild. Panic curled in my stomach, while things seemed to whisper and shift in the corner of my eye. All I could think of was something grabbing me from behind, the unnameable horror breathing hot down my neck as it holds me tight so I can’t escape. My voice and body paralysed with fear, a bloodcurdling scream bottled up in my throat. I thought I heard footsteps, then the floor creaked behind me and I lost control.
I gave up on going slow and facing my fears. I started sprinting to the end of the hallway where my brother’s room is, throwing open the door and slamming it once I was safely inside, breathing erratically due to my uncontrollable trembling.
The lamp clicked on and a very frightened looking Mikey stared at me from the bed in the centre of the room, blond hair sticking up at odd angles.
“Gee…” Mikey whispered in a tired voice, a confused and worried look on his face.
I lean against the door and stare at him waiting for my heart to return to normal so I don’t pass out.
“What’s wrong?” He asked sliding on his glasses and focusing on my terror stricken face.
“I had a bad dream and a slight panic attack.” I squeaked, my shaking fingers allowing my sketchbook to slip to the floor with a thump.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“I miss her.” A choked sob escaped me as I started crying, I climbed into bed with Mikey, my heart returning to its original speed. Our Grandma had passed away last month and I was still taking it really hard.
Mikey wrapped his arms around me letting me cry all over him. He had always been the braver one, even if he didn’t look like it with his thin body, glasses and baby face. Mikey was three years younger than me and my only friend. He’s the only one that’s been there for me besides my mum.
After my cries subsided Mikey moved back to look at me, his hands on my shoulders so I wouldn’t hide away.
“What was your dream about?”
I hesitated, “Do we have to talk about it?”
Mikey just looked at me as I cuddled into his bed.
“It’s a long story.” I sighed, coming to my defence when I could see he was about to start lecturing me about how ‘not facing your fears is bad’. Something I’d heard more than once.
“Grandma was calling my name, like, trying to wake me up or something. She stood at the end of my bed as a kid, even though I obviously didn’t know her then, and she was wearing a long sleeve, knee length white dress thing. She kept on telling me to go to the Willow tree? Wherever the fuck that is. She looked really scared and kept telling me she could only talk to me there. So in the dream a sort of time vortex thing appeared and transported me to this huge old Willow next to a river. She started crying and told me I was in danger! She told me not to trust anybody; they are all out to get me.”
I looked up at to Mikey gauge his reaction. He huffed loudly, gazing at the roof before his eyes came to land on me, making me feel vulnerable under his intense scrutiny.
“You’re not actually taking it seriously are you?” He asked in disbelief as I shrank into the covers. “It was just a dream Gee. You know how paranoid you get sometimes. You shouldn’t read too much into this.”
“But she looked so scared.” I whispered glumly.
“Try not to think about it and don’t mention this to mum. You know how worried she’s been about you lately.” Mikey stated, running a hand through his unruly bedhead in exasperation.
I let the silence grow before asking the most important question.
“Do you think it means anything?”
He let a long stream of air escape from his mouth, eyelids fluttering as he thought it over.
“I don’t know. It’s probably just your fears and anxiety coming out in your dreams.”
“Huh, you’re one to talk about anxiety,” I muttered, crossing my arms. “And what if it’s not?”
“What do you want me to say? People’s dead grandparents don’t normally come to them in dreams and tell them there in danger. I’m sorry I’m not being more sympathetic but its 2:30 in the morning and I have to get up in four hours.” He collapsed back into his pillows dramatically.
I look at the door on the other side of the room, the only thing keeping the darkness from taking me under. I shuddered as an image of an ink-black hand wrapping around my neck came into my mind. Putrid stench wafting from rotten flesh, filthy nails digging into my skin. My heart sped up as I struggled for breath. My voice seemed to die, I couldn’t scream for help.
“Gee, Gee!”
I snapped out of it as Mikey’s frantic voice reached me, he was leaning over the bed and violently shaking my shoulder.
“Can I stay here tonight?” I asked timidly, my voice raspy and no more than a whisper.
I got my answer as Mikey flopped down with his head on my chest and his arms wrapped protectively around me. He reached over to his bedside table and merely dimmed the lamplight, knowing I wouldn’t want to be in total darkness.
I watched him as he fell asleep, his breathing becoming slow and deep.
I slowly slid away from Mikey being careful not to wake him. Picking up the sketchbook and a pencil I had dropped by the doorway, I let my emotion pour onto the page, only stopping when my eyes became heavy. I crawled back into the safety of the bed.
“I love you Mikey.” I whispered into the silent room before letting my eyes fall closed.My dreams plagued with fear and nightmares.
-------Next Morning-------
I woke to an empty bed, the room glowing orange with the early sunrise. I got out of bed hearing the kettle starting to whistle. I made my way down the hall, amazed at how anything can seem so sinister at night.
Mikey was busily making two coffees as I shuffled into the kitchen, yawning loudly before collapsing into a barstool by the counter.
“Good morning.” I say sarcastically whilst leaning back on my seat, bones popping into place in my back. Mikey hates it when I do that.
“I really hate it when you do that.” He groaned, placing my coffee in front of me. “I’m making some toast. Do you want some?”
“No, but thanks anyway.” I replied, cradling my mug in my hands.
“You need to eat.” He coaxed, concerned expression apparent on his face.
“I’ll just get something from the canteen.” I murmured before making my way into the lounge room to check the news.
I took a big mouthful of coffee before flicking on the television, hearing the obnoxious news presenter’s monotone voice blare through the speakers.
“… news Jamia Nestor has been reported missing. She was last seen leaving work on Sunday evening. Her mother reported her disappearance when Jamia didn’t return…” I missed what she was about to say when Mikey yelled out from the kitchen.
“I forgot to tell you! Mum said she won‘t be home ‘till late tonight.”
“Where is Mum?” I questioned, noting her absence for the first time that morning.
“She’s in the shower. You know what she’s like with her long showers. She probably won’t be out before we leave.”
I gave Mikey a small nod as he walked through the lounge room before turning back into the T.V while I finished my coffee.
“… If you’ve seen or heard anything about Jamia please call 911.”
Oh shit. I have school today. Groaning loudly, I put my empty mug on the coffee table before making my way back to my room.Advancing on my wardrobe, I rolled my eyes at the vast amounts of black skinny jeans and black shirts. The only thing colourful in my entire room is my band posters and red tie that lay on the floor. I slip on a pair of clean jeans and a black long sleeve button up shirt. I stood there hand on hip looking at the red tie. Not today, I thought making my way to the bathroom to whiten my smile and apply my eye liner, trying to avoid looking in the mirror.
“Hurry up!” I hear Mikey yell from somewhere in the house.
“Coming, I just have to pack my bag, hang on!” I yelled back before going back to my room to check I’ve got everything.
“GERARD!”
I yanked my bag up on my shoulder whilst running down the hallway, almost crashing headfirst into an annoyed Mikey.
“Hold this for a sec, would ya?” I say chucking my bag at him while I slip on my Doc Martins.
“I swear to god, you’ll be late for your own funeral!” Mikey ranted, shifting from foot to foot impatiently.
“That’s probably the only thing I’ll be early for.” I grin widely, knowing it’s probably the truth.
Mikey glares at me as we made our way out the door. “Not funny, bro.”
Right then mum comes flying out of the bathroom behind us, hair dripping wet and top on back to front.
“Oh wait! Thank goodness you haven’t left yet! Your father wants to talk to you Gerard.”
“But Mum, we’re already running late.” Mikey complained, itching to run out the door.
“You go, I’ll walk to school.” I muttered dully. He noticed the sudden change in my expression and glanced at me curiously. Waving him off, I turned around in the doorway. Mum snatched her keys off the kitchen bench and hurried out after Mikey. I paced slowly towards the back of the house. I had a feeling I already know what my father has to say.

Notes

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