I tossed and turned in my bed sheets as the dream I had for the last three weeks takes over. It started with an elegant woman with rich brown skin and light blonde hair that glowed like gold. Her golden eyes were as bright and happy as the sun. She spoke to me, but I couldn’t make out what she was saying.

Then the dream turns twisted. There’s blood and pain, and the beautiful woman is screaming for me to do something. Yet I can’t hear her, but my body moves of its own accord, as if knowing what the woman wants from me. I make my way down a flight of stairs that are lit by torches and sprint to the forest.

Green flames flickered behind me as I ran blind, but some part of me knew that these were no ordinary flames. These flames had a target. A target to kill and consume. And that target was me.

The flames danced across the landscape burning nothing. Set on its prey, but before the flames consumed me, the dream shifted. This was new. It was always the flames that ended the dream.

I’m covered in blood that isn’t my own. It’s warm, sticking to me like second skin. It covered everything, the long white dress I wore stained in dark crimson. I licked my lips. The taste of iron rolled around my tongue. Humming in delight I licked the remaining off my lips then moved to my stained fingers.

I wanted more. No, I need more.

I’ve suddenly become a shell of myself hell bent on finding more blood. The little on my lips, and fingers wasn’t enough.

I was hungry.

Although the bleeding figure in front of me was still a vegetable, I could still sense life essences flowing through them. I smiled. Crouching down, I leaned over resting my ear on their chest as I heard the low beat of their heart. They we’re bleeding out and I was determined to savour every minute of it.

“B-Beatrice?” The person croaks breathlessly.

Startled, I took my ear off their chest, looking at their features.

Blood covered their neck. A large gash ripped through the soft flesh. It leaking on the white pristine floor growing into a crimson puddle. Bile rises to my throat as my gaze travels to their face. An all too familiar face.

Periwinkle’s sapphire blue eyes stare glassy eyed at me as blood starts to regurgitate from her mouth.

I screamed....

*********************

My room door burst open, and my uncle entered with a bat raised high, with only a gray t-shirt, socks, and his boxers on. His pale gray eyes searched frantically for a threat that was nowhere to be found. After a pause he lowers that bat. A worried expression crosses his features.

“Are you okay Bea?” He asked padding towards me as I sat up in bed, shivering uncontrollably. I shook my head unable to form words.

I killed my best friend. I killed Periwinkle.

It was a dream, Beatrice. None of it was real.

But it felt real. I was drinking her blood and enjoying it. Is something wrong with me? Am I a monster?

I didn’t realize I had started crying until Uncle Charlie sat next to me on the bed, holding me in his embrace. Tears stained my cheeks as they dripped onto his cotton gray shirt.

“Was it a nightmare?”

I nodded.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

I shook my head. What person would want to talk about a dream where they murdered their best friend? Tasted their blood and liked it. I’d be shipped to the nearest asylum in no time.

He lets go of me and looks me in the eyes, putting a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

“If you do decide you want to talk, I’m always here.”

“Okay,” I whisper, settling under the covers.

He stands and walks towards my door, saying a quick goodnight, before closing the door behind him.

That night sleep never came.