The scream tore from her throat like a rip in the night itself. Becky jolted upright, her skin damp with sweat, her heart pounding like a warning drum. Her fingers clutched the bedsheet, trying to convince herself she was safe now
—that it was only a dream.
But the room felt wrong.
A pair of butterflies fluttered past her open window
—black with shimmering violet wings. She blinked. They were beautiful, but something about their sudden presence unsettled her. There were butterflies in the dream too… weren't there?
Her gaze dropped to the side table.
Two flowers lay there
—fresh.
One was a white lily, the other a deep crimson rose. She didn't remember bringing them in. Her mom wouldn't have either.
She leaned in closer.
The rose had a droplet on its edge. Not water. Not dew. Thicker. Darker.
Blood?
She pulled back, heart skipping.
It was too much.
The dream. The whisper. The vampire with burning eyes who had reached for her just before she screamed.
And now
—roses that bled, butterflies that shouldn't be there.
But Becky closed her eyes and took a breath.
"No. It was just a dream," she whispered to herself.
A really vivid, creepy, strange dream… but still, just a dream.
She brushed it all off.
She had school. A life. Friends.
And dreams didn't follow you into the daylight.
Right?