chapter 1
A silent scream stuck in her throat, and her eyes glistened with tears. It happened again. She had another nightmare, and this time, it felt disturbingly lifelike. Ellie sat up in bed and swung her legs to the floor. She rubbed her eyes, trying to wipe away the nasty dream. The girl shuffled to the bathroom and splashed water onto her face. Then, out of habit, she came up to her desk. Her unmade bed stood pressed between the desk and the kitchen cabinets. Space was scarce in her apartment on the penultimate level of the megacity. Ellie pulled the metal cord, and an old lamp lit up the corner with dim light. Her fingertips caressed the tattered lampshade, letting the familiar velvet soothe her anxiety.
Surrounded by last-gen gadgets, she found comfort in things she had scavenged from trash. Unlike her, these items had a history; their battered textures probably held more memories than her dull life. She took a deep breath and picked up her notebook. Her virtual psychoanalyst advised her to describe every detail of her dream as part of her therapy. Yes, why not commit her worst night terrors to a memoir? A simple sleeping pill prescription could have saved her from nightmares and anxiety. Ellie pursed her lips and tapped the blank page with her pen, unsure she wanted to summon up every detail.
Each dream occurred at night. In the last one, Ellie stood alone under a bridge. She glanced around, spotting nothing in the dark except scattered trash and torn magazines and newspapers. The canal water resembled a black paste. The smell of rot hit her nose, mixing with the moldy stench from the canal. Someone giggled behind her, and she turned toward the sound. A man in a knitted hat stretched his hands over a fire, its flames sending glowing sparks from the metal trash bin. Slowly, she approached him. Ellie wanted to call out, letting him know about her presence, but her lips didn’t move. She wasn’t in control. Ellie sneaked up on the homeless man. He was so close now that she could touch his shoulder. His chuckling cut off. Ellie stretched her arm toward his elbow, but he jerked and grabbed her by the neck.
“What do you want to see this time?” the man asked, an insane spark in his gaze.
If not for the dirt coating his cheeks and a crazy expression, his features would have been handsome. The tramp’s hands were strong, like an unbreakable iron trap around her delicate neck. Horrified, Ellie stared into the stranger’s mocking eyes. He seemed oddly familiar, as if she had known him long ago, but now she couldn’t remember. Random thoughts flashed in Ellie’s head, all coming down to these fists of exceptional strength. Was death by strangulation considered the worst? Or was it burning alive? Ellie hung on the man’s arms, unable to break his deadly grip. Her legs gave in, and the man let her fall onto the dirty asphalt. He stepped on her chest, cutting off the air, never allowing her to take another breath. The maniac smirked, watching Ellie sink into the darkness.
She transformed into a spirit flying over the city’s skyscrapers. Her eyes did not squint from enormous neon signs; her lungs didn’t inhale the smoke and fumes of the megacity. She landed in an alley, undisturbed by the stench from the trash cans nearby or the biting coldness of the brown puddle in which she was standing up to her ankles. She didn’t notice the rats squealing, lured by the pungent odor of decay. Her gaze focused on a young woman with smudged makeup, messy hair, a wrinkled dress, and eyes filled with disbelief and anguish. Ellie’s detached stare shifted to the bulky rapist, his meaty paws squeezing the woman’s neck. The victim tried to fight back, flailing her fists till the end. With a disgusting groan, the man lay her on the floor and pressed his foot against her chest. The woman couldn’t cry for help or mercy. A white graffiti We are all sleeping on the wall hovered over her deadened eyes like an epitaph. Ellie followed her into the darkness.
