I laid down in bed, leaving Bailey in her own. Stupid nightmares I felt terrible for making Jack think I would sleep better if he wasn't here with me. He might be right, but I was just worried if he was wrong. Call it selfish, but I like him better here, where I can wake up and see that he's not the monster in my dreams.

Rolling onto my side, sleep took over again and I thought I was having a dreamless rest of the night. But when I 'woke up' something wasn't right.

I got out of bed, the sun shining through the windows. The clock on the night stand said it was two in the afternoon. I must have been more tired then I thought.

Not bothering to get changed, I walked down the stairs and smelled something. It smelled amazing, like barbeque or something. I walked into the kitchen to see Jack by the stove. He was stirring something, humming some tune. This was weird, Jack didn't ever cook. I coughed a little, alerting him of my presence. He turned and smile, I took a careful look at his face. It wasn't twisted, no evil grimace, no dark eyes, he looked completely normal.

“Hey babe,” He greeted. “Glad you're up.”
“Yeah,” I sat at our little island. “What are you making?”
“Ribs.” He smiled.
“You know how to grill?”
“Made them in the oven.” He shrugged, opening it. The smell got more intense, and I felt my mouth watering.
“Since when do you even cook.”
“I wanted to do something for you.” He set it down in front of me. “Get some plates out?”
“Sure.”

I picked a bit of meat off a rib and took a bite. It tasted...different. I didn't think anything of it though, it's the first time I've had anything Jack cooked. I got out the plates, which Jack made up and we sat at the table. I took a few more bites before realizing something. Bailey wasn't around begging for any scraps.

“Where's Bailey?” I asked.
“Probably doing dog things.” Jack said. I frowned and saw that he hasn't touched his food. “Something wrong?” He asked, his voice sounding off.

More things started to make less sense as I thought about this situation. Since when did we even have real food in the house? Certainly nothing to make ribs with...unless Jack went shopping. He still never had cooked before. The meat tasted weird, and I was starting to notice a new smell...something more like burnt hair.

“Want dessert?” Jack suddenly asked, standing up before I could even say anything. I went to say something but then I felt it.

My stomach was burning, and I started to feel bile rise up in my throat. I had no idea what was going on until Jack reappeared, a new dish in his hands.

It was Bailey's severed head on a plate, burned and bloody. I screamed which ended in a coughing fit. Jack started laughing....no, he was cackling. This was a dream, I'm stuck in a fucking dream! I continued coughing, falling out of my chair and onto the ground. Droplets of blood started to appear on the ground and my throat was closing up. I looked back up to see Jack...it...walking towards me. His eyes were more than just dark, they were black. I tried to move, but I couldn't feel anything.

“It will be over soon...” It said, taking a dishtowel a and smothering my face. “You'll never wake up.”

Wake up.

WAKE UP.

“EMBER WAKE THE FUCK UP!”

I opened my eyes and found still only darkness and my face being covered. I freaked out and someone pulled me back by my shoulders revealing I had rolled faced down into my pillow. I turned to see who was in bed with me and nearly had a heart attack at seeing Jack's face. Before I could scoot away or scream, he pulled me into his arms. Hugging me close he buried his face into my hair.

“Ember, listen to me,” He said, tightening his arms. “I would never hurt you. Please, please tell me if that's what you really think of me and I'll prove you wrong. I love you, and I can't listen to you scream like that ever again.”

It took me a second to register that Jack was crying. I slowly moved to wrap my arms around him back. I wanted to tell him there was nothing to worry about, that I was fine but clearly I wasn't. I had to tell him about these stupid nightmares. They're not really about him.

“Jack?” Wow, my voice sounded hoarse. How long had I been screaming? Jack pulled back and looked at me with concern.
“What is it? Tell me.” He asked, cupping my face in one hand. I wrapped my own hand around it.
“It's not you,” I mumbled, Jack looked ready to say something but I shook my head. “He doesn't even act like you. Not even when you were...sick. This was, a whole new level of sadisticness.”
“You can't sit here and tell me it's not me you're seeing when all I hear is you yell my name in fear.” Jack said.
“It's not you.” I insisted.
“It has to be after everything I did.
“It's not you in the dreams or flashbacks and-”
“Flashbacks?” He repeated, cutting me off. “You're getting flashbacks of that time?”
“Yeah.” I sighed, not even denying it anymore.
“Ember, I think you should talk to my doctor.”
“What? Why?” I asked, appalled.
“There's something wrong here, you went through a traumatic-”
“I'm not traumatized.”
“Yes. Clearly, you are, you won't admit that happened was my fault.”
“It wasn't you were sick.”
“My actions might have been influenced by the chemical imbalance or drugs messing with my mind, but it was still me.”
“No.” I whined, burying my face into his chest. “No, that wasn't you.”
“I'm going to call her, okay?” Jack said quietly. “Just talk to her.”

I shook my head, still refusing but Jack got out his phone anyway. I didn't do anything to stop him, just started sniffling into his shirt. In the back of my mind, I knew this was probably better then ignoring the problem.

Notes

Intense denial.