* * *

Sleep is for weaklings. Then again, Sarah might be one of those weaklings.

She’d lost about an hour when she blinked at some point during early dawn, and now she was struggling to wake up despite not having slept at all.

The books and notes were still spread out over the floor in front of her, and the comforter was piled up behind her, as inviting as a real bed. But the sun was up now and she should start moving.

Her eyes drifted to the clock, and she considered letting go for ten minutes, just ten lousy minutes so she could pretend…

Laughter drew her awake as she was almost falling over.

“I told you that was a bad idea,” Robyn said from the door. “C’mon, breakfast is ready. I’ll get you some coffee.”

“I don’t want coffee,” Sarah grumbled. “I don’t want food.”

“Chocolate then,” Robyn insisted with a roll of her eyes. “Let’s go, I gotta talk to Tim before class.”

“Five minutes, please.” She felt herself drifting away again, falling towards the comforter.

“Fine. I’ll come drag you away when I finish breakfast.”

“Okay,” Sarah whispered back, eyes already closed.

* * *

A loud bang sounded, and Sarah was shocked awake. She started to sit up, falling back down on her bed before she could get her bearings. Of course there were no books, no notes, and Robyn wasn’t there telling her she was going to be late. She tossed an arm over her closed lids to keep the light at bay a little longer.

Robyn was dead. She knew that beyond the shadow of a doubt, and her dreams trying to make her believe otherwise only made the pain of it more real.

The noise sounded again. This time, she recognized it as someone pounding on her door.

“What?” she shouted, wondering how upset her supervisor would be if she murdered someone. Surely not too upset, it would have been justified because of the incessant pounding!

“Come on!” a responding shout came from the other side. “We’re gonna be late!”

Robyn!

It was Robyn.

She ran to the door, her heart pounding as if it could escape her chest. All traces of sleep had fled. She opened it, both hoping and fearing someone would be waiting on the other side.

The corridor was dark and empty. Was she awake? Her heart was racing, a sweaty palm sliding from the doorknob, feet very clearly against a cold floor, and then there was the taste of salt from her own tears. Wasn’t that proof enough?

Besides, the bad things were real.

Robyn was dead.

It was a strange contrast, being so exhausted and so completely awake. The two states battled within her, unable to coexist.

She didn’t go back to bed, didn’t even step back inside her room.

Still barefoot on the cold hard floor, she started walking along the hall.

Her eyes closed more than once, and she spared a moment to wonder if anyone looking up at the monitors would think she was sleepwalking. Maybe that wouldn’t be too far off the mark. She had just stopped in front of a door and knocked without having put thought to action.

She quickly withdrew her hand. Whose room was this?

The answer came as the door opened to reveal a very grumpy, and equally sleepy, Pegasus. He leaned against the doorjamb, a hand hanging limp at his side where it fell, disconnected from the doorknob.

She struggled with producing any words, exasperation finding some more adrenaline—she thought she’d run out by now—to keep her awake. Something in her expression must have filtered through and he straightened himself, mimicking wakefulness with perfection. “Did something happen?”

“What? No.”

“Oh.” He relaxed again, his eyes drooping. It was as if the remainder of his awareness had seeped out with that one sound. “I knew telling you that story was asking for trouble.”

Sarah couldn’t understand what he meant. Her mind was probably not thinking straight. She smiled bitterly. The ‘probably’ must be wishful thinking.

“Sorry.” Again at a loss for words and feeling like he was no longer listening, she quietly stepped back in case he was already asleep again.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“Sarah.”

He was still leaning there, eyes closed. She would have thought she imagined his voice, but then he stepped aside and gestured for her to come in.

Sarah had expected a sterile copy of her own room, but his walls were decorated with a strange assortment of photographs, none of which she could figure out except for the one over his bedrest—a bridge. She wondered if that was the bridge that had taken the lives of his parents, but she didn’t dare ask.

The other photos were more abstract, plays on light and color, as if each were a corner of some memory that had been amplified and given life on its own. A piece of a whole that no one would ever see.

She was so distracted trying to make sense of one such black and white concoction that she didn’t realize Pegasus had yet to say a word.

He was already back in bed, asleep.

She smiled at the sight, heading for the door.

Pegasus shifted, eyes fluttering open as if only then remembering she was there. “Nightmares?”

She nodded, hoping that was all. “For a moment, I forgot Robyn was gone.”

His gaze filled with concern, more awake now. “Are you alright?”

She took a step forward, hand still on the doorknob. “Do you mind if I hide out here for a little bit?”

“Not at all, hide away.” He closed his eyes again, hand stopping halfway to the light switch. “You can leave the light on if you want. And feel free to shake me awake if you’d like to talk.”

The smile lingered on his lips for a moment longer, then his breathing relaxed, his hand already limp on the mattress. Just like that, he was asleep.

Sarah wished it were that simple for her, but the falling asleep part wasn’t exactly the problem, it was what waited for her when she did.

She all but tiptoed to the bathroom, cold water might keep her eyes from closing for a few more minutes. The mirror was an unwelcome sight, with red eyes ringed with dark circles staring back at her. Her face looked pale and worn, and the clothes she was still wearing were in a disarray. She looked like something alien to herself.

There was the rustling of sheets and the bedroom light was turned off. She couldn’t help but smirk. He probably forgot she was there.

She turned off the lamp in the bathroom so it wouldn’t disturb him and made her way slowly back to the couch. One of the pictures had come to life in soft neon highlights in the dark, giving the world a less dreary look.

Curling up on the couch without ceremony, she watched the motionless figure on the bed until her eyes closed.

Somehow, she felt reassured that Pegasus was there to hear the strange noises with her if her ghosts showed themselves. She was too tired to care that she had come knocking on Pegasus’ door in the middle of the night when, not two days ago, she had been struggling with the feeling of familiarity she felt towards him. It was a moot point now.

Sliding down to lean her head on the armrest, she drifted in and out of sleep as she mustered up the energy to go steal a pillow he wasn’t using.

She moved quietly towards the bed, focused on the discarded pillow right next to the Pegasus-sized lump. Her own shadow and the neon glow of the picture played tricks on her when she got closer, making it hard to see where the pillow was. She felt around the bed where she thought it should have been, but there was nothing there.

Pegasus couldn’t have done anything to it; he hadn’t moved.

No sooner had she considered a trick of light was disguising it in plain sight, it appeared right in front of her.

She reached for the pillow—again, depending on what score was being kept. Grabbing it tight, she yanked it out of the bed, wrapping her arms around it until she was back at the couch so it wouldn’t escape.

She tried balancing it on the armrest, then beating it into submission—as silently as humanly possible, but it was hard to find a comfortable position. She turned around and lost her balance, starting to slide off the couch. Her hand found nothing but air when she reached for the backrest to hold on. The world twisted and turned for one awful second.

Her eyes fluttered open, confusion dissolving as she felt around for where she was. She was still on the couch. And the spare pillow was exactly where it had been, still on the bed.

This was so not funny.

Sarah focused on the sensations, the cold floor was as good an anchor as it could be, and she rubbed her eyes all the way to the bed. Nothing would have led her to believe she was dreaming, but she wasn’t the best judge of these things. She grabbed the pillow, thankful that it hadn’t vanished again.

“What are you doing?”

She sucked in a startled breath. She hadn’t seen him move. Pegasus turned around to face her, looking no more awake than he had when he let her in.

“I’m stealing your pillow,” she whispered, failing to sound appropriately embarrassed or even contrite about it.

“Well, that’s just rude.”

Sarah pressed her lips together to suppress a laugh, ready to proceed with the stealing of said pillow regardless.

Pegasus pulled the pillow closer to him, but she didn’t let go. “Where are you going?”

“We should get some sleep,” she protested, though she wasn’t entirely sure what she was protesting against.

Pegasus gave her a dirty look. “I never said we wouldn’t.”

She strengthened her grip on the pillow and slid it towards her ever so subtly.

Before she knew what was happening, he’d jerked the pillow towards him, causing her to almost fall face first on the mattress. Propped on her elbows and still holding on to the pillow, she blew the hair out of her eyes, unsure if she should laugh or beat him over the head with the disputed prize.

Pegasus lay his chin on his corner of the pillow, clearly enjoying her distress. He brushed her hair aside, his touch lingering against her cheek as he gazed into her eyes.

“Where are you going?” he asked in a low voice, though his tone suggested a different question.

Heart pounding against her chest, Sarah tried straightening herself, but she couldn’t get her balance, couldn’t pull away, her hand trapped in the sheets… except it couldn’t be the sheets.

The mental image struggled with what her eyes were telling her and somewhere in the midst of that struggle, darkness became once again predominant.

She opened her eyes.

Lying in bed, Sarah buried her head deeper into the pillow with a groan and pulled the sheets tighter around her. Just a dream. One long, unending dream.

Why her mind had insisted on dragging Pegasus into the mix or why it had made his couch so uncomfortable and a pillow so unattainable was anybody’s guess.

As tired as she had been when she first went to sleep, she wanted to sleep some more.

The room was cooler than usual, not at all conducive to getting out of bed. She didn’t want to relinquish the warm comfort of that moment, but she should go take a shower. If only she could will herself to move.

She heard something then, close enough that it shouldn’t have been there, but not so obvious that her mind could interpret it without a context. She pulled away the sheets to look and the first ridiculous thought she had was that someone else’s jacket was draped over her chair.

That this was not her room, nor her bed, was the next obvious realization—the pictures on the wall and many spread out files on the table were enough of a clue. She looked down at the bed, which she was now occupying entirely, spread out as if she belonged there, and edged towards the corner, more than a little embarrassed.

She was still wondering if she should simply go back to her room or wait to speak with Pegasus when the bathroom door opened. The owner of the room in question emerged, wet hair tossed about as he dried it with a towel.

Pegasus smiled brightly at her. “Good morning.”