A power nap was the plan after hours of thinking about what I saw, but that decision ended up being a mistake. Not only had I overslept and woken up 15 minutes before CJ’s party, but my mind fell victim to a nightmare: the same horror that preyed on me for years.

It was always the same thing. A gun would be pointed low, the weapon unable to stay still due to the shaky hand of the wielder—whoever it was. There was never any clear view of the person.

The gun would then fire, killing my dad. The bang and blurry scene of the murder would play over and over until I woke up in a cold sweat. What’s worse is that the nightmare never goes away even after I open my eyes. It only fades into the background of my mind, still clawing into my thoughts and affecting my life. Only the sound of music grounded the beast in my head, and it’s what I had been listening to at the edge of my bed for the past five minutes after awakening.

The opening of my bedroom door made me pause the song. My mom entered the room wearing her work attire, which consisted of colorful scrubs and white sneakers. She narrowed her eyes at me before speaking.

“It was so quiet in here; I thought you were sleeping. Did you eat anything, Zayn?”

“No, but I got a party to get to real quick. I’ll grab somethin’ before I head out, though. How was work?”

She scoffed. “It’s over with. That house is always hot as hell, too. I’m going to get cleaned up and relax. Make sure you eat.”

I never told my mom about the nightmares. Stupid, I know. I needed help, clearly. But I never asked for it, and I wasn’t sure if I ever would.

After she left the room, I looked at the messages on my phone from Tory and CJ asking where I was. I texted them both, omw, before hopping off the bed and going through the clothes in my closet to find an outfit. I decided on black jeans and a blue shirt to match my blue and black Nikes. The drip was crazy.

With my laptop and microphone in my backpack, I left out of my room and grabbed an apple off the living room table before heading out the front door. CJ lived in The Heights, which was about a good fifteen, maybe twenty-minute walk from my place. There was no way I was gonna make it on time, but I hurried through the night streets with one question in mind.

Was Ashanti gonna be there?

☾☼☽

Arriving at CJ’s house and entering the front door, the scene was exactly what I had expected it to be in the early hours of the party: quiet and civil. Yup, just a small crowd with simple conversations. That was all gonna change in a couple of hours, though. Especially now that I was there.

“‘Bout damn time,” CJ greeted me with a dap as I walked into the living room. He had on a green shirt that almost matched the walls of the house. “I was ‘bout to have Marcus handle the music, and you know he be listening to trash.”

“Nah, he be bumping some cool tracks,” I told him. “He listens to music that make you think, somethin’ you ain’t used to doin’ ‘cause you get by just from throwin’ a football.”

He laughed and nudged me on my arm with his fist. “Yeah, aight. You got jokes. You ready to do your thing or what?”

My nod led to us stepping over to the large speakers in the living room. The process of handling the music was simple, really. All I needed to do was connect my laptop to the sound system and let the tracks do their thing. My microphone was only used on rare occasions whenever I wanted to turn up the crowd. CJ would sometimes get wasted and blurt out garbage, too. So there’s that.

As I’m setting up the equipment and surveying the few people that are in the house conversing, I noticed Jasmine wasn’t there and decided to ask CJ about her.

“Your girl ain’t here?”

He looked away and answered, “Nah.” Just as he did, a light-skinned chick with braids walked up to him and placed her hand on his arm with a smile. He continued, “She’s always busy, bro. It is what it is, you know?”

I didn’t know seeing as I’ve never been in a relationship, but a shrug from me was enough for him to walk away with the girl on his arm.

After getting the music started, the party got a lil’ live with people going from moving their mouths to moving their bodies. As more students from Gold Eagle Academy came through, things only got more active with drugs and alcohol ready to come into the mix.

“Yo, Z. I need you over here for a minute.”

Tory called out to me from the other side of the living room. He was sitting on a brown couch with a few boys from our school, one being Marcus, a student on the wrestling team who he loved to debate with.

With the music doing all the work, I was free to walk over to them and participate in the conversation. Tory had turned his hat to the back, which meant he was in a serious mood. I wasn’t surprised, though. These small disagreements with Marcus always got him heated for some reason.

“Bro,” he addressed me while looking at Marcus, “this dude said pro wrestlin’ is better than MMA. Can you believe that?”

I chuckled and shrugged, trying not to get in the middle of it. Marcus sat up on the couch and matched Tory’s intensity with a hard stare.

“Let’s go on social media and ask the world which is more entertaining,” he suggested. “You don’t wanna do that, though.”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

“I don’t need to do that ‘cause I know I’m right and you wrong,” Tory argued back. “You buggin’, my guy. This ain’t no discussion.”

Marcus waved him off and leaned back. “Yeah, okay. All I know is, if I had to choose between being a pro wrestler or an MMA fighter, I’m goin’ with wrestlin’ all day. That’s my passion, so you can take your weak ass opinion somewhere else.”

Tory, as usual, disagreed, and I listened to them banter for a while until it was time to make my way back over to the laptop. After sliding through a pack of smokers having a good time, I saw someone standing next to the speakers who made me freeze on the spot. She was in a position where I had to say something to her.

“Zayn, right? Are you in charge of the music?” Ashanti asked once I got over my cold feet and was close enough to hear her voice. This would be our first conversation ever, and I was nervous as hell. Words couldn’t explain it.

“Y-Yeah, wassup?” I replied with a smile, praying my expression didn’t make me look lame. She returned the gesture, giving me confidence.

“Cool, so you can play a song for me? It’s my favorite right now, and I’m tryin’ to loosen up.”

I was put in a dilemma after she told me the name of the song. I had the track she requested, but it was slower than what I had in rotation tonight, and I didn’t wanna mess up the vibe just to satisfy her.

I had to come up with something. Quick.

“Yeah, I got’chu,” I told her. “Lemme see what I can do.”

“Thank you,” she said back, glancing at the blue headphones that covered my ears before looking back into my dark brown eyes. Man, this moment would’ve been the highlight of my night if it hadn’t put me in a predicament that could piss off the whole party.

Thinking fast, I grabbed my microphone and said to the crowd, “Aight, we gon’ slow it down for a minute. Grab somebody close and make somethin’ happen.”

I got a couple of laughs and mocking comments in response, but my words must’ve worked because everyone started to shift their movements with the change in sound when the song played. The flow wasn’t disrupted, and if anything, the switch in tone gave people a better chance at having sex tonight.

“You wanna dance?” Ashanti asked, grabbing my hand with a gentle touch. She gestured her head to the middle of the room before I could reply. “Come on.”

We started to dance face to face, and I’d be lying if I said I kept eye contact with her. My sight was on other parts of her body—not because I was admiring her curvy figure, but because of how nervous I got whenever I looked into her pretty brown eyes. After she smiled and slowly turned her back to me, keeping my composure only got harder.

Literally.

She started to grind on me while moving her body to the beat. The only thoughts in my head were, ‘Don’t poke her, don’t poke her.’ ‘Damn, I’m gonna wet my pants.’ I was on another planet when the smell of her coconut shampoo filled my nose as she looked back at me with her hand caressing the side of my cheek. Her hips continued to dance along my pelvis in a rhythmic way that boggled my mind because I knew my ass couldn’t dance, but she was in full control with my body in tune with hers.

It was like we were the only two in the room.

Just as I reached my high, the volume of the music went low due to the song fading out to its conclusion. Because the track wasn’t originally in tonight’s playlist, the jump to the next song didn’t flow well with the transition going from slow and melodramatic, to fast and hardcore. It wasn’t a problem though seeing as most were more into their conversations and substance consumption than what was playing.

“I should get back to the music,” I told Ashanti, walking backwards to my destination. I bumped into someone in the process, but all she did was chuckle and nod before disappearing into the crowd.

Tonight was great, maybe even perfect, which is why something had to go wrong. It always does.

There was a ruckus going on outside the house. When the voices got closer and more aggressive, I muted the music just before four guys walked inside the home.

“Where that punk at?” yelled a guy whose hair was tied in a ponytail. It was the same gang affiliate who CJ was about to fight earlier. Miguel was his name.

CJ walked out of the back room with his shirt off as people started to remove themselves from the scene. He stood a good distance away from the group as I backed into one of the corners of the room, unable to grab my equipment and leave without drawing attention to myself.

“The hell y’all want?” CJ questioned. Miguel laughed off his question as the other dudes kept a stern demeanor while eyeing CJ up and down.

“You know what it is,” Miguel replied. “Ain’t nobody here to stop us now. We already dropped some of your boys, so if you don’t wanna take this outside and be laid out next to’em, we can do this right here after I air this place out.”

His words were followed with a lift of his shirt, revealing the gun tucked in his ripped jeans. The sight of it made more people scurry out of the house and caused my heart to skip a beat. My body was frozen in fear. I couldn’t even think straight, let alone protect my own life if the gun went off.

And that’s what happened: the gun went off. Without warning or chance for CJ to respond, Miguel grabbed his gun and pulled the trigger. The sound of the weapon being fired in the air sent my mind to familiar territory—a pit of torment and confusion. I began to hyperventilate in desperate need of escape.

Why did this have to happen? Why couldn’t I move? Why did I lose my will to survive because of a memory? I didn’t wanna die. Not there. Not ever.

Not when I still had a chance to live.

In a last-ditch effort to reclaim myself, I reached into my pocket and took out my cell phone to hit play on a song. In doing so, the shackles of despair that chained my thoughts were broken. My mind was freed, but something else was released in the process. Something very, very unexplainable.

A surge of energy shot through my body, taking over like a machine and controlling my functions. I couldn’t hear what Miguel and his gang of thugs were saying due to the high volume of the music through my headphones, but their faces told a clearer story than words ever could. They were confused as to why the hell was I still standing there after the gunshot.

When one of them approached with hostile intent, the sight of what baffled me earlier came into view: dark shrouds. They surrounded not only the guy ready to beat my ass, but Miguel and the two others behind him.

The guy in my face threw a punch, which my body reacted to by dodging and countering with a hard strike from my own fist. I didn’t understand what was happening, but the same action occurred once the other two thugs walked up to me and tried to swing.

I knocked their asses out.

What’s more is that my movements were in sync with the beat of the song playing, and I could feel my body vibrating at a high frequency despite having no power over it. This moment was unbelievably satisfying, but I started to panic from not being in control and unable to hear my surroundings.

Turn it off, I thought to myself. Turn it off. Turn it off.

Somehow, someway, my cell phone reacted to my mental plea and shut off the music. I regained control, and everything would’ve been okay had Miguel not pointed the gun in my direction. His puzzled expression gave me the chilling sense that he wanted me dead on the spot.

I was going to die.

That’s if Ashanti didn’t smash a bottle of alcohol against the back of Miguel’s head. He dropped to the floor as she rushed toward me and started to check my shirt. What for, I had no idea. It’s not like the gun went off.

“Are you alright?” she asked, holding the left side of her head with an agonized look on her face.

“Y-Yeah. Are you?”

“I’m good, just hurry home,” she demanded, backing away before running out of the house.

My mind was blown from what transpired. I stood in the middle of the living room, distressed. It reminded me of my nightmares, only this wasn’t a dream.

This was real, and so were the demons.