Goodnight

Chapter 2

"Ethan?"

I gasped and leaned over, coughing relentlessly as a small amount of water poured out of my mouth.

My aching lungs burned for the stuffy air that filled them. I jumped when my flailing arms hit against the side of a tub.

When my panicked eyes darted around the room, I found myself somehow sitting in the bathtub of my bathroom, fully clothed, in water filled nearly to the top.

I looked down at my submerged sweatshirt and pajama pants before glancing at my younger sister, Lena, who was visibly terrified. Fear laced through her wide, muted eyes. She had one hand on the doorknob to the wooden door that was nearly closed, as if she were contemplating whether she should check to see if her brother was alright or sprint away.

I didn't exactly blame her, but who would? My sanity seemed hardly recognizable; I could see in the reflection of the tap that there were dark-coloured rings beneath my eyes, and my eye-whites were filled with branches of overwhelmingly red veins. My flesh was so pale that the light freckles which littered the bridge of my nose were exceptionally pronounced.

I looked psychotic.

"Why are you in the bathtub?" she asked shakily, her eyebrows furrowing.

I couldn't answer her. The truth is, I didn't even have a clue myself. My muddled brain swarmed with tons of doltish lies that I could attempt to tell for the sake of seeming normal, but she knew I wasn't.

"I mean," she spoke up, "Mom told me you haven't been sleeping lately. Is this... because... of whatever the hell just happened?"

Pain still gripped my lungs and I couldn't seem to catch my breath. "W-what? I was just taking a bath, relax," I assured her, my voice sounding like I smoked two packs a day.

"In... in the dark? You were in the dark before I turned the light on," her voice was quiet. She walked a little closer while her eyes grazed my body. "And, thankfully, you're wearing clothes... but still, this is weird."

I didn't reply again - I couldn't, it hurt too much. Instead, I lethargically moved my arm to drain the water, my brain still utterly confused and unable to process what had happened.

Lena shifted her weight, chewing the inside of her cheek and fixing her eyes away from mine.

"I'm getting Mom," she decided, her tone nervous.

"Lena-"

"You were screaming," she cut me off. "You're lucky Mom didn't wake up instead, she probably would have taken you away right then and there," she warned me as she turned back to the sink in front of her. I could tell she wasn't sure how to handle this.

Her words and the gradual absence of the water sent chills through me and made my clothes feel like weights. I ran my fingers through my sopping hair and sighed heavily, wishing that the ache in my head and chest would subside at least a little bit.

My mother couldn't send me back... she couldn't.

I wanted to keep a normal mindset, I really did, but my dream was still lingering. I still felt like I was drowning, even after waking up. I still felt like somebody was holding my head under the water, white bubbles filling my vision as I thrashed and swung my limbs in attempt to reach the tempting surface only inches above.

I could still feel the pressure of the strong hand locked on my head, the fingers pressing into my skull in agonizing determination to keep me underwater. I could still feel my lungs tightening as I tried hopelessly to scream, soundless spurts of water and bubbles flying from my mouth instead of sound. And then, my chest unable to handle any more of the cramping desire to breathe, I sucked a ton of water through my lips.

Of course I was thankful that it was only a dream. But if it was only that, why did it feel so real? Why did my lungs hurt, and why was my head throbbing?

And more importantly, how did I end up in a bathtub filled with water when I remembered clearly falling asleep in my bed?

"Ethan?" Lena called as she widened her eyes and held a towel out for me. "Are you okay? I'm serious. I learned in biology that... if someone drowns, you should, like, bring them to a hospital or something. Even if they seem fine after, I think."

I took the towel and stood up, practically towering over her as I wrapped it around myself.

"I'm fine. I didn't drown, just, please don't tell mom. I can't go back there, I'm serious... please," I pleaded.

Lena's shoulders lifted as she sighed in thought. Her lips held a small, playful smile as she attempted to normalize the situation.

"Ethan, if you can walk in on me making out with a girl in my room and keep it from mom, I guess I could keep whatever... this is... to myself as well," she sighed, clearly still uncomfortable but attempting to make it less awkward. Her hand clamped on my wet shoulder. "You're lucky I don't want you to go back either."

I exhaled in relief. "Thank you, Lena, I mean it."

"No problem, but can you do me a favour and stop being weird from now on? Please?" she asked while staring at herself in the mirror. Her fingers threaded through her dark, shoulder-length hair as she pulled it back and grabbed her toothbrush.

Lena looked so mature, although she was only fifteen, she seemed much older. She resembled our mother - she was pure and undeniably perfect, of course. And of course there's me, a lanky, crooked freak who can't tell if a word spells cat or act, and I mess up the whole perfect-family-DNA scheme.

Her eyes met mine through the mirror, and her mouth fell open. "What's that gash on your forehead from? Did that hurt? Holy shit!"

My fingers reached up to cover the partially contused, shredded flesh of my forehead which was still painted with dried blood from two nights before. I swallowed thickly before trying to rattle my mind for another lame excuse.

"I fell," I lied uncomfortably.

She turned to me, her eyes narrowed in disbelief. She laughed, "I know you're lying, but because it's too early for an interrogation, I'm going to drop it and pretend this never happened. Okay?"

I nodded quickly. The feeling that bubbled in my stomach was too intense for me to speak; I felt that if I opened my mouth I would vomit instantly. My chest was so compact, and with each inhale, I could feel the immense pressure. I had to get out of the bathroom. I had to make myself normal before she saw me.

I left the bathroom, rushing down the corridor to my room while praying that I wouldn't run into my mother on the way.

I pushed my bedroom door open and instantly pulled my sopping wet sweatshirt off, throwing it to the ground. Soft sunlight coated my room and the digital clock which sat on my nightstand read 6:04, leaving me relieved that I had time to get ready for school and act like everything was normal for my mother.

I sat on the edge of my bed and threw my head in my hands, rubbing my fingers over my face as I let out a small groan.

I had no idea what was happening, but the only thing I knew was that I could not let my mother know what was going on. I couldn't let her know the anxiety I felt about falling asleep at night, fearing the next terrifyingly realistic nightmare I would inevitably experience.

She would send me back there instantly if she knew.

And I couldn't go back. I couldn't.