"I have had dreams and I have had nightmares, but I have conquered my nightmares because of my dreams."

-Jonas Salk

Nothing of interest happened for the rest of the shift. Some old men hit on me and I retorted with snide comments. At the end of the night, I left with a decent amount of cash tips thanks in large part to the generous and mysterious Mr. Morgan. After performing all of the closing duties, I locked up and headed over to my little Ford Taurus station wagon. I opened the door, threw my purse on the passenger's seat, and put the key in the ignition.

I locked the doors quickly after getting in. I could feel eyes on me but it seemed as if I were completely alone in the parking lot after a quick surveillance of the area. I popped in a tape at random to drown out the creepy silence. The Wizard of Oz blasted over the speakers. Sweet. I sang along with Somewhere Over the Rainbow as I made the short drive home.

I visualized sending my negative energy—all that excess work gunk —up into the Universe to be cleansed as I switched gears into "off work" mode. I forgot all about that niggling feeling that I had in the parking lot.

Staying positive was crucial at my house right now. My car was in the driveway of a modest white house soon enough. It was quite plain: there were no lawn ornaments, no garden, and no tacky stone lions guarding the driveway. The most decorative attributes to the place were the burgundy shutters and matching—albeit empty—flowerbeds. The house had side paneling leading up to a black sloped roof and a door that matched the shutters. It needed a good power washing.

The sound of the car door slamming reverberated off the walls of the house as I exited the vehicle. It felt good to have the dumb ol' bucket of bolts paid off. Twenty-two and a car to call my own. That felt pretty great.

After all this, I thought, it'd be great to just go somewhere: put miles of highway in front of me. My feet continued in a forward motion, one in front of the other, up to the average red door and its cheap brassy handle. Pulling it open, I held my breath.

"Hey, honey," Mom called from the kitchen. My breath came whooshing out.

"Hey, Ma." She poked her head into the living room to remind me, like always, to go wash up. Living under her roof was like being a kid again. Still, I set my bag down on the demi-lune table by the door and trudged to the bathroom.

Now, you've already gathered that I closed up the bar, so you guys are probably wondering why Mom is cooking dinner at freaking midnight. Listen, I've tried to tell her that I can fend for myself but she just won't have any of it. She is insistent that we have dinner together every night, even if I don't get off 'til late. She's been like this ever since Dad died a few months ago. That's when she decided to move to this godforsaken place.

As I amply applied aloe hand soap and washed my hands for what felt like the millionth time, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror.

My cat eyes had managed to survive the night. I had to really invest in my makeup when working long hours at a job where breaks were frowned upon. My long blond hair was pulled into a messy updo. Freckles dotted my face. Green eyes squinted in concentration as I removed my eye makeup. Foundation and all that weren't really my thing. My pale lips remained untouched as well for the day.

Glad for the night to be winding to a close, I removed my Cornhusk Cavern—lame—tee and tossed it into the laundry basket. Then, I cut through the living room wearing my undershirt and jeans, and made my way to the dining room. I set the table in silence as mom finished up dinner. Each of us fell into our familiar roles. She brought out a casserole dish and set it on a cast-iron owl. She and I sat down and served ourselves eggplant parmesan. Dad's favorite. My heartstrings tugged a little.

I knew better than to start eating before her Celtic prayer concluded. No clue what she was saying. She tried to teach me when I was little but at some point she gave up when she realized it was hopeless.

She finally began to tolerate my lack of religion at some point towards my eighteenth birthday. I let her do her praying and I did my own thing.

Of course, according to her, I was going straight to Hell. That would make a mother worry. Sometimes, I felt like pretending just to appease her but I couldn't find it in my heart to lie to her. Plus, then she'd make me go to church every Sunday…

My mom was from County Down, Northern Ireland. She moved here long before I was born to escape the religious politics. It got pretty bad there for a while. She hasn't been back since. She really seems like she misses the old country, though. Ireland is a magical place or so I've heard. Never been.

She stayed silent for a while but I knew when it was okay to stuff my face and, believe me, I did not hesitate to do so. We ate in silence for a while. It's been tense at family dinners lately. It wasn't just that dad died and I was taking time off of school. It was more than that.

A sudden breach of silence pulled me away from the somber thoughts that my brain was headed towards. Her inquiry was mundane—she simply asked about work, which was sweet but the answer was always the same. Work sucked. Always.

I was one step away from printing out a picture of Grandfield, drawing a Hitler stash on it, and using it for dart practice.

I didn't trouble her with the details, though. I gave her the bare minimum response. However, I clued her in on Mr. Fancy Pants. "He's gonna have all the ladies swooning," I scoffed and shoveled another bite into my mouth.

Mom eyed me with her usual look of disdain towards my lack of table manners. "Including you?"

I nearly choked on my food with laughter. "Um, no. He's too much."

She actually waggled her eyebrows at me, "What's the problem? He's rich and attractive!"

"Did I say he was attractive?"

"Well if all the ladies will be 'swooning'?"

"I regret I said anything."

"You're allowed to find love, sweetheart. Or just have some fun." I almost choked again…was she trying to kill me?

I am not having this conversation with my mother right now. I pinched myself. Okay, maybe I am.

"Ma, c'mon, just drop it. Not. Gonna. Happen."

She chortled, clearly too amused by this situation. She then raised her hands in a gesture of surrender. "All right, all right. Do what you want. You can't push people away forever, you know."

I stabbed my dinner angrily with my fork and attempted to change the subject.

The rest of the conversation that night was exceptionally boring but she didn't prod me further with her ridiculous questions. Thank goodness. I helped her with the dishes after dinner. If it wasn't for her, I probably would have just crashed after eating. "Night, mum."

"Good night, love."

I retreated to the solace of my bedroom after brushing my teeth and scooping up my fat orange cat. "You've been eating well, I see, Madame Leona." I shut the door behind me as we entered my room, then kicked off my pants (the best feeling after a long day).

Leona and I climbed onto my bed. She waited, ever so patiently, for me to get under the covers before she laid on top of them, cozying up to my feet and purring. Social media kept me up for a while, as I scrolled through pictures of cats and scene queens. I know, sooo Myspace Days but I've never gotten over it. Sue me.

Besides, the Rawring 20s were nearly upon us. Scene kids were making a comeback.

Eventually, my prison made of flesh succumbed to its need for sleep.

A face of pure fury filled my vision. She looked…familiar, to say the least. She had the same ebony hair except for it came down only to her chin and was cut in sharp edges with short micro-bangs. She had the same brown eyes, but these didn't twinkle: they were cold and filled so deep with hatred that it seemed they didn't have the capacity to hold another emotion in their depths. Her face was just as beautiful but, contorted as it was in her fury, it took me a minute to see the beauty in it. Her wings were as dark as the storm clouds from my reverie earlier.

This was nothing like my daydreams. Those had pulled me out of reality in a nice and inviting way. I gladly plunged into them, never caring about the subject matter. I was simply happy to be there. This was quite the opposite.

It felt as though I were being forced to be here. I suddenly felt trapped in the face of a looming darkness that saturated the air.

She gazed into a small pool of water contained within a square stone pan. With a flick of her wrist, waves formed in the pool. I peered into the image that materialized in the dark water and did not like what I saw. There was an old town, that seemed to be from eras past. A huge stone wall surrounded it. There was a well in the center of the town and little houses that appeared to be made of the same stone as the wall, only the buildings had thatched roofs that didn't seem to be very weather resistant. That's all I could make of the town because it was being pelted by rain and hail, wind threatening to huff and puff and blow the roofs off the houses.

Fear filled my being. Would the faerie discover my presence? I caught a glimpse of my hands and noticed they were translucent. I tried to touch the bowl but my hands went straight through it. I was a ghost in this world. It took me until now to realize that I didn't feel anything. Whoa.

A heavy door creaking open caused me to turn around. All I saw was a silhouette before a fog swiftly blocked my vision. I suddenly could not hear anything. Everything became muffled. There was a conversation but I could not make out the words. Water as cold as ice whooshed into my ears, which caused me to cry out in pain.

I screamed and screamed, though no sound escaped my lips. My brain sent the command to my arms and legs to thrash wildly in panic, though I could not feel them moving. I could not feel, hear, or see anything except for the pain of the water filling my ears and now my nose and mouth. The cold terror spread throughout my entire body. I was freezing and paralyzed, unable to even shiver. I choked on the water that had poured into my mouth.

As an apparition, you'd think that breathing would not be an issue. Well, you'd be wrong. I could feel myself dying as I was deprived of oxygen. Reflexively, my hands tried to reach for my throat but they couldn't. Immobile and helpless, I internally screamed for what seemed like ages.

Then, everything went black; subsequently, the whooshing softened and the pain lessoned. I welcomed the blackness.

There was a sound at my ear but I could barely hear it because I was still on the edge of unconsciousness and the blackness was trying to pull me back under. I tried to remember what happened. My hearing was fuzzy and I could barely make out the noise breaking the silence. Slowly, it became clearer, like someone turned the knob of an old school radio to find a station, trying to eliminate the static.

"Riona? Catriona? Honey, wake up!" I could make out my mother's voice now. I tried to calm the worry in her tone but could not find the words. The static threatened to take over again. Her voice became a faint echo in the dark. Something slammed against my mind. You need to wake up, a voice in my head whispered. Stupid voice.

"Cat." This voice was different and strangely familiar; it called to me by the nickname my dad had given me. My curiosity caused the darkness to recede. My mom was sobbing. That wasn't right. She didn't need to worry about me. "Catriona, please wake up." That voice. My eyes open, startled.

"Eeek! Why are you in my room?!" My voice came out as more of a croak, rather than reflecting the outright horror I felt at his presence. If I weren't so faint, I'd kick his ass into next week. What a nightmare. Maybe I should have succumbed to the darkness.

I cleared my throat to save myself the embarrassment of my voice breaking again. Everything was hazy. All I could make out of my surroundings were blurred figures and the fireball that was my mother's hair.

"Oh, baby doll!" She sobbed hysterically and hugged me hard. "Catriona, dear, you gave me such a fright!" My vision slowly came into focus; I peered over her shoulder.

I wasn't hallucinating. "Mr. Morgan?" My tone was understandably horrified. I wrapped the covers more tightly around me as I became all too aware of the fact that all I had on underneath them were mauve, velvety panties.

He laughed, "You can call me Will, you know."

"Why are you in my room?"

My mom shrieked. "Your ears are bleeding!" Wha-? Bleeding? "Stay here," she commanded Will, "I'll be right back!" Probably off to fetch one of her home remedies.

She left the room and the cat jumped off my bed to follow her. Traitors. Leaving me alone with a large, I suppose you could say attractive man in my bed. He was wearing a form-fitting dark grey V-neck tee, and black flannel sleeping pants with skulls and cross-bones dotted all over them. His hair was all wet. Was it raining outside? I scooched a little closer to the head of my bed, away from him. "I'm not going to hurt you," he said. I ignored that. "And you should rest so calm yourself, please."

I felt a little light-headed. "What. Are. You. Doing… in my room?"

He seemed concerned with my mental health, "You're experiencing a medical emergency and all you care about is why I'm here?"

He was wearing on my patience. "Just answer the damn question," I snapped.

"I was next door, had just gotten out of the shower," which explained the wet hair, "when I heard your mother cry out. I threw on some clothes—pardon my appearance, by the way—and ran over to see if I could be of assistance. You were having an awful fit in your sleep and seemed to be struggling to breathe. So, here I am." He shrugged, as if all of this were completely fucking normal. At least he seemed sincere. Still, I didn't trust him.

"Wait, why were you next door?" The place next door had been empty for months. Please don't tell me…

"I'm renting the place while I'm in town." Oh, hell no.

"Of course you are." My eyes rolled involuntarily.

"What is that supposed to mean?" He seemed a little hurt but it was probably just an act.

Mom came back just in time, to interrupt that train wreck of a conversation. "Thanks, William, I can take it from here."

He actually half-bowed to her as he backed towards my door. Who the hell was this guy? "Good night, ladies. I'll be next door if you need assistance. Take care." His eyes lingered on me for a few seconds too long before he walked away. I relaxed a little once I heard the front door shut behind him.

Mom poured some gross concoction into my ear. It smelled like vinegar and onions. It was vile. She pressed a warm, wet washcloth to my ear, one at a time, and stayed with me while her concoction drained out of each ear. "Shouldn't I go to the hospital?"

"Nonsense, not necessary." Her tone was final.

"If you say so…" Her herbal remedies always worked. I hadn't been to the hospital much in my life. Well, they almost always worked. My eye teared up a little.

"It's okay, honey, we're almost done here." Good. I hated medicine going in my ear. I used to think it was the worst feeling, until the water filling my ears. What was going on? What was up with that bizarre dream? Why did it feel so real?

"Ma, what's happening to me?"

"It's going to be okay, dear. Just don't succumb to it." What the fuck was that supposed to mean?

"Don't succumb to what?"

"The darkness." Warmth filled my body from head to toe and I lost consciousness.

I don't know how I fell asleep so easily after all of that but I did not dream for the rest of the night. I woke up the next day and there was no residual pain in my ears. In fact, I felt like nothing had happened at all. Had I imagined it? I mean, it was easy to believe I had dreamed the whole thing. Easier to believe than that mystery man showing up in my bedroom in the middle of the night and my ears bleeding and the terrifying nightmare. I was left with a strange unknowing of whether or not any of this was real.

Half asleep, I stumbled my way towards my morning routine. The wonderful aroma of Captain Ahab's Coffee wafted its way to the bathroom, where the cat circled my legs. I'd never get why cats always had to bother you on the toilet.

A few minutes later, she meowed incessantly until I served her up some fishy yum yums. Once the feline was fed, it was time for the pivotal moment of my morning: the delicacy that delighted my taste buds. The roast was as dark as my soul, just the way I liked it. The first sip burned my tongue slightly (that's how you knew it was working its magic). It warmed up my insides and gave me that jolt I needed to start my day off right.

The first part of my morning was super boring. I absently did my chores, all the while in a haze. All I could think about was last night. This was all getting way too weird. I didn't think I had imagined it… I just hoped I did.

Meow. A chubby fluffball carried itself across the room, little stubby legs comical underneath a huge body.

The doorbell rang. Who would be ringing the bell? Mom was at work so I suppose I had to answer it…or I could just pretend like I wasn't home and be very quiet and maybe they would go away…it rang again. Ugh, fine.

"Hold on!" Quickly, I ran to my room and threw on the first article of clothing I could find to cover my legs. I opened the door, only to be shocked at who was on the other side. I had half a mind to slam the door in his face.

"Nice PJs." That smirk—infuriating. I looked down and realized that I had put on pajama bottoms with a pattern of little kitties playing with yarn balls.

My cheeks flushed. "So what? What are you doing at my door?" I stamped my foot in a display of impatience. I had better things to do than to waste my time talking to this man who thought he could just buy his way through any situation in his life (which, quite honestly, I wouldn't have been so bothered by except that this man was so damn irritating). On a whim, I pulled a crumpled bill out of my bra and handed it to him. "Oh, I believe this is yours," I said nonchalantly.

He stared in disbelief. "I gave this to you." He tried to hand it back but I refused to take it.

"I don't want to owe you anything."

He shook his head and stuffed the bill in the pocket of what looked suspiciously like designer jeans. "Fair enough. I am here simply to check up on you. You gave me quite a scare last night and I wanted to be sure you're okay."

"So, that did happen." Great. I had hoped it was all a bad dream.

Sadness filled the depths of his blue eyes. "Yes."

"Oh, I see." My feet fell into a swift backward pedal and I nearly fell, but he caught me.

"Hey, hey, it's okay. Shhh." He tried to calm me like one would a startled horse as he helped me onto the couch.

My focus moved towards his face, searching for some answer from this stranger. "What's happening to me?"

He sat next to me on the couch and brushed back my bangs with a delicate touch, as if I would break easily with that small action. "Shhh, everything is going to be all right. Trust me." His deep blue eyes met my soul. I couldn't think of a single damn reason to trust him but, for some reason in that moment, my intuition told me I could trust him.

My senses came back to me and I became all too aware of the warmth of the big, calloused man-hand making contact with my knee. I scooted away, out of reach of his touch. "Hands off, pal." My usual snarkiness took ahold of me, arms crossed over my chest.

"So much fire." I thought I saw literal fire alight in his awed eyes for a moment before I blinked away my delusions.

"Did I invite you in?" I huffed.

He pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. "Catriona, I'm only trying to help you. Stop pouting."

"I'm not pouting." I pouted.

He shook his head, half in amusement and half in astonishment. "Whatever will I do with you?"

My voice hardened. "Don't speak to me like you know me."

That sadness came back into his features. My suspicion rose. "Who are you?"

"Someone who only wants to help."

I wasn't humoring his hero complex. "I don't need your help. Get out of my house."

"But—"

"OUT!"

I stood up and gestured to the door. He rose and grudgingly obeyed. Smart man.

Upon reaching the door, he grabbed the handle and turned his head back towards me, "I will be right here if you need me."

"Ah, butt out."

He smiled sadly and left. At the abrupt force of the door shutting, my body sunk down to the floor and a river flowed down its cheeks. There I went again, making more enemies with my abrasive personality. Plus, I missed my opportunity to learn what he knew. I slammed my fists against the floor. No, I can handle this on my own.

If you couldn't tell, I didn't exactly have the best people skills. I pulled myself up off the floor and went to my room to cool off.

My cat followed my lead up onto my bed. I sat cross-legged and attempted to meditate. It took a few minutes to calm down. My cat laid in my lap purring. Eventually, thoughts left me and a calmness of mind replaced them.

A flash broke across my vision.

An amulet, hidden away just out of reach, spoke to me of another time, long ago. Two worlds were one.

Somehow it was familiar to me, though that wasn't possible. It was a mesmerizing trinket, delicate veins of white gold trailed the bold, sturdy sapphire, which dangled from a silver chain. It called to me, this foreign and familiar object.

Riona.

The whisper was wind against my ear, a breeze inside my head. Riona. It yearned for me, as did I for it.

I reached for the tempting jewel, which floated in black space. Gravity was absent. A niggling at the back of my mind was not quite able to remind me of what the world beyond this small sector of space was like. The sapphire spun out of my reach. Stars, bright against the backdrop of space, fill my peripheral vision. Somehow, they dimmed in comparison to the amulet.

Desperate, I reached out once more. It twirled teasingly away from me. The color of the gem somehow increased in brightness as it spun further away, a glow radiating from it.

Riona. The stars flickered as it called my name. I was determined to have it in my grasp. Come. The stars exploded in a fireworks display all around me.

My hand clutched my neck, void of any jewelry. My breath came heavy. It felt like I'd just climbed a few flights of stairs. A bead of sweat creeped its way down my back.

Meow. My guard cat ran as fast as her little legs would carry her. She only did that when there was someone at the door, or for food. Since I was the only one home, I was betting on the former.

Not again. I dragged my ass out of bed.

When I approached the other room, I noticed there was an envelope on the floor that had been slipped under the door. It had one word written on the front: "Cat." I opened it and inside were two things: a fresh, crisp Benjamin and a piece of paper with some words scrawled across it.

I don't play fair.

-William

P.S. You owe me nothing.