Leo -

I opened my eyes. We were here again. I saw Alex and Lori here, too this time. Mom looked at me, her eyes pink. In front of me sat my dad, collapsed on the floor. I remembered this day exactly as it happened. I was done being the weird kid. I decided I wasn’t going to have any more blood. When I got home I lost control and killed Dad. Mom glared at me. “Out,” she hissed. I didn’t need to be told twice. I ran out of the house, sobbing. “What have I done?” I asked. Lori stepped in front of me. I turned around, but Alex was behind me. “Leo,” he started, a fire burning in his palm. I looked around. The world was either crumbling or burning. “It’s what you deserve,” Lori hissed. I shook my head. “I’m sorry!” I screamed. Lori shrugged. “You’re a monster.” “And you didn’t even tell us,” Alex walked up to me and put a flaming hand on my shoulder. “Leo,” They chanted together. “Leo. Leo. Leo.”

“LEO!” My eyes snapped open and I sat straight up. “Sh-” I cut myself off and took a deep breath. “Yes, Alex?” I asked quietly. He said nothing, just reached up and wiped something from my eye. “Leo, it’s okay. I’m here.” I stared at him. “Will you take a second to explain to me what the heck is going on here?” Alex pulled himself up on the bed next to me. “Crying. You were breathing heavily. Hyperventilating. Tossing and turning. You were screaming, Leo. What’s going on?” I shook my head and got up. “What unearthly hour of the night is it?” I asked, annoyed. Alex followed behind me, “Three a.m.” I sighed quietly. “Of course,” I murmured, walking towards the door. Alex reached out and grabbed my wrist. I didn’t know what was happening, but I snapped. Wrenching my wrist out of his grasp, I whirled around. “GO. A. F***ING. WAY! I was SLEEPING!” I howled. Alex slapped his hand over my mouth. “I swear to gods, Leo. It’s three a.m. Be quieter. And don’t say stuff like that.” I bit his hand and shrugged him off of me. “Leave me alone. I’m gonna go get breakfast.” Alex should have known not to prod the beast, but he didn’t leave me alone. “If you’re gonna be like that,” he started, “tell me what is going on and why you’re eating breakfast at Three. O’clock. In the morning.” I shrugged, “Can’t make me.” I was starting to sound like a three-year-old having a tantrum. Alex grabbed my shoulder and flipped me around. The nightmare started to fade in and out of my vision as if I were looking at two realities at once. There was a fire in his palm. “Oh,” he said, sounding a bit psychopathic, “I bet I can.”