Page 37 of Carter

“What the hell?” he says with a laugh. “No way. It’s freezing. I like the cold, but not that much. Come on.”

I don’t argue, just follow his lead. We do this all the time. I’m sure it’ll be fine.

There’s rustling. Some banging. It’s out of place. Not the typical sounds that we hear when coming down this alley.

“Hey!” Ryan shouts, letting go of my hand. He steps forward. “Get the fuck off her!”

I don’t realize what’s going on. It doesn’t make sense. My brain can’t comprehend what’s going on. I stand there frozen as Ryan moves forward. As a woman takes off crying. As a man comes from the shadows and attacks Ryan. He cries out. Falls to the ground. The man disappears. My feet are rooted to the ground. It happens so quickly, yet in slow motion at the same time.

When I see the blood, I fall to my knees. Ryan is right there, just out of reach. I hold my arm out, wanting to hold him, to save him, but I can’t move. I’m stuck. I’m frozen.

“Carter,” he rasps out. “Carter, please—”

Tears fill my eyes. Emotion clogs my throat.

My chest tightens, and I can’t breathe.

“Ryan!” I scream. “Ryan, take my hand.”

“I can’t. I can’t reach you.” He shakes his head, blood oozing out from around his hand that’s pressed to his side. His eyes go wide. Then the light in them dies out. Blood pools around him.Bigger and bigger and bigger until it’s flooding up to my chest. Then my neck. Then—

I shoot upright, my shirt clinging to my sweat-soaked skin. I throw the blankets off and get to my feet, running my hand through my hair. It’s cooler out here but I’m still overheating. The sheets are damp from the sweat, but I can’t change them right now. The only other set I have is dirty too. For the same reason. I go to the bathroom to splash some cold water on my face and neck, and I toss my shirt into the hamper. I avoid my reflection in the mirror because I hate seeing myself like this.

I’m a fucking mess.

When I get back to my bedroom, I check my phone. It’s only two in the morning. I fell asleep just two short hours ago.

I sit on the end of my bed. “Fucking nightmares.”

My gaze goes to the necklace on my bedside table and then to the boxes in the corner. Ryan’s things. One of these days, I’m going to go through it all. Put them away. Do something with them. I swear it’s them that keeps giving me nightmares. I see them when I go to sleep. Guilt eats away at me as my head hits the pillow and those are the thoughts in my head when I fall asleep. I need something more positive before bed. Get some good dreams instead of these nightmares that keep waking up with my heart pounding out of my chest.

They’re always different.

They start off the same. Me and Ryan walking. Taking the alleyway even though I tell him I don’t want to.

I didn’t tell him that that night, but if I had…

Maybe he’d have listened.

I always watch him die in my dreams. Witness the light leave his eyes. It’s always so obvious, more so then it would be in real life.

That didn’t happen either, but dreams are fucked. He died on the surgical table, surrounded by strangers and without me. Probably scared and—

And I can’t think about that.

It’s been a while since nightmares haunted me like this, but ever since the detective showed up, they’ve come back with a vengeance. Maybe if the case is solved, if Ryan’s murderer is caught, the nightmares will stop for good.

I wonder if he’s awake. The detective. There’s no way I’m going back to sleep, and he said I could call him whenever I needed. Right now, I don’t want to be alone. I feel sick. I feel like I’m about to have a panic attack. I need a distraction, so I dial his number before I can think better of it.

“Carter. Is everything okay?” he answers, sounding like he wasn’t sleeping at all.

Good. I’d have felt bad if I woke him.

“Yeah,” I rasp out, then clear my throat. “Sorry, I just… nightmare.”

It sounds so stupid coming out of my mouth. I’m a grown man calling another grown man over a bad dream. What the hell is wrong with me?

“I get them sometimes, too,” he says.