Out of the Question

Been shown two more options. Been making us camp out in places I know I ain’t seen. She’s getting rid of my safe choices.

Dream number three. Empty house, broken locks. Guessing we were the ones to break in. We’d barricaded, but it was no good when the time came. I watched, Curt and Alyssa lyin’ on the bed, me skulking about when I hear something from downstairs. I go to check.

Windmill’s down there, and I ain’t got time to catch a glimpse before someone’s caught me by the scarf and hauled me back – the me in the dream ain’t got time, but I do. Watching, I do see. Martyrs again, and Windmill’s head is lopped off clear. They know better this time. They don’t fuck around.

Upstairs, I hear loud noises. Crashing, someone being dragged. Hear Alyssa yelling for me, more crashing. Don’t know what’s goin’ on, because the Oracle ain’t showing me. She just makes me watch myself.

I’m struggling against the Martyr’s that got me. Grappling. What I do best, I reckon. But he’s got the jump on me, and he’s got weapons.

I see the knife go through my back, and he’s sawin’. Right through the spine.

Ain’t simple enough to stab me. I watch him use that blade to tear at my bone, and the sound is ungodly, and that was when she let me wake.

Night after was worse.

Camped out on the edge of these trees. Big patch of ‘em, not big enough to be considered a forest, though. The road ain’t too far off, but we’ve used the trees as cover. Mistake. Stupid mistake.

This time, Alyssa ain’t sleeping. Curtis ain’t either. Think it ain’t for lack of trying, we all look dead exhausted. Windmill’s quiet, pawing the ground like he’s anxious. Don’t blame him.

I saw Him first. Not in the dream, though, that was Alyssa. But outside what’s goin’ on, with me watching – I see him. First I thought I was seeing the moon. Hanging too low, in the trees. Too gray. Too oval. Realized – too late – it was a face.

No, lack of a face. Only a few feet behind me, in the dream. Alyssa turns, she sees, and things have gotten darker. Then

Sorry, I can’t.

I ain’t choosing that death. Can’t stop shakin’. I can’t. Won’t let it happen like that.

Four choices, total, now. I’m making it three, ‘cause that last one ain’t an option.