Falling asleep was like slipping into a placid lake. It began so peacefully and easily that I didn't realize I was submerged. Looking down, I could see my feet fluttering, unable to reach the stable ground. The panic began to set in deep within me. What started as a refreshing coolness continued to permeate further and further until my limbs became paralyzed with cold and fear. I jerked my face up, hoping the stars above could guide me to the surface, but instead I saw myself. My face peered down at me. At first, I looked curious, inquisitive about the stir below the surface of the otherwise calm water. For a moment, even I began to wonder why I was causing such a fuss. My leg and arms slowed their flailing as I started to sink further away from the face and deeper into the cold depths of the water.

My face looked down at me, pleased. I was succeeding. Then she waved. It was a simple goodbye, as though we would see each other soon. It was then I realized the twisting that was occurring. That face was not me. That murderous face was holding me under the water. I could suddenly feel her warm hands gripping my shoulders tighter, withholding the surface from me. I opened my mouth to scream, but was only met with a mouthful of water. Just as I was about to fill my lungs with my watery grave, I woke up, shooting straight up in the bed.

I realized she hadn't been waving goodbye; she had been waving hello. She was there in the room's corner. Her gaze washed over me, noting the similarities and the differences.

"You're not real," I argued with myself.

"I'm not?" The figure cocked her head to the side. "I feel quite real."

"I'm dreaming. There is no way you could be in here," I reasoned further.

"But I am. I am here. And you are here. Isn't it wonderful to be here together?" Her voice was sickly high with a teasing sing-song cadence.

"No, how could you be? How could you find me? You can't be real!" I continued to rationalize with myself.

"Well, let's just see. If I weren't real, do you suppose I could bleed?" She sweetly smiled as though asking me to pass the rolls over Sunday dinner, but her intent was nefarious.

She pulled a knife from her belt. The shine of the sharp edge glinted in the moonlight. She then lifted her second hand and grasped the blade. Tighter and tighter, she squeezed with no hint of a grimace. Then, in triumph, she held her hand up to me. It was slick with red blood crawling down her hand and arm. The copper smell of the bloody wound snaked to my nose, churning my stomach.

"See, I seem to check out. Now, let's do you." Her eyes gleamed as she licked her blood from the knife and took a step toward me.

"No," I called out as I fought with the tangle of sheets that were restraining me to the bed.

A childish giggle escaped her lips just as the door flew open, obscuring my menace from me.

"Antonia, what is it? Are you hurt?" Nick's eyes flared with urgent concern.

"She's here!" I screamed as I pointed to the corner behind the door.

"Who's here?" He asked, his voice still filled with panic.

"The girl with my face. She's here. She cut herself! She is coming for me!" I cried, as I was finally able to extricate myself from the sheets.

Nick looked around the room. "There is no one here. There couldn't be. The alarm has been set."

"No, she was here. She is here. Look behind the door!" I demanded.

Nick peered around again, but then his shoulder dropped from their alarm tense. "It's okay," he soothed as he paced around the bed and gathered me up in his arms.

I let him. I needed his strength and comfort. I allowed my face to burrow into his t-shirt and tried to push away the images: the cold water, the drowning, the sneer in my room, the blood dripping down her arm. I sucked in a deep breath, but it did nothing to clear my mind.

"She is here," I weakly protested.

"I'll show you. You have nothing to worry about."

He dropped his arms from around me but left one for me to clutch. As we neared the door, I clung harder; expecting her to lunge, but no one attacked. Nick shut the door and flicked on the lights to show an empty corner.

"See? You are safe here," he soothed again as he pulled me back to his chest.

I didn't feel his comfort this time, and he could sense my tenseness.

"Would you like me to stay in here tonight?" He offered as he pulled away. "I can sleep on the floor."

"No, I couldn't ask you to sleep on the floor in your own home," I dismissed.

"It's fine. Let me just grab a few blankets and pillows from my room. Will you be alright for a few?" His eyes were wide with worry.

"Yes." I diverted my eyes, hoping to mask how pathetic I felt.

"I will be right back," he reiterated.

I slumped down to the end of the bed and stared at the corner. She had felt so real. Her presence, even the smell of the blood dripping down her arm. But the water had also felt real, and I was not delusional enough to think that the room had also been filled with seawater mere moments before. I must have been dreaming; it was the only logical thought.

I stood from the bed, eager to do something practical with my hands. I began to make the bed mindlessly. In my fright, I had ripped the sheets from all corners. Smoothing the sheets and tightly tucking them was satisfying. I smoothed the last wrinkles and set to spreading out the duvet before sitting on the bed and once again staring at the corner.

The simple task had calmed me. My heart was returning to its regular beat, no longer filling my ears with its incessant pounding. The silence of the night filled my ears, or so I expected. Faintly, I could hear Nick's voice. I slipped from my room and followed his sharp whispers.

"We must do something faster," he demanded before a pause.

Through his cracked door, I could see him standing at his window, holding his phone to his ear. His shirt was now missing, but a fresh one was clutched in his free hand. His smooth olive skin glistened in the moonlight. It was the same tone as my own mother's. I had always been envious of her tone. I was much fairer in complexion.

"I understand, but she is becoming problematic," he continued.

It was me; I was problematic. I woke him up in the middle of the night with my silly nightmares, and now I had even stooped to eavesdropping. After all of his kindness, all he had willingly shared with me, he deserved privacy. I scampered away back to my room and began to collect my things.

"What are you doing?" Nick asked from the doorway.

"I am so sorry. I didn't mean to pull you into this. I will get out of your way." As I spoke, my head twitched back and forth at the horror I had inflicted on him.

"It's three in the morning? Where the hell will you go?" He demanded in surprise.

"I'm sure I can find a hotel."

"Antonia, if you leave now, I will stay up all night worrying about you. Please, just get into bed." His voice had settled into the low, even tone that was enticingly soothing.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" I demanded.

"You remind me of my sister, and, as I said, I hope that if she were ever in trouble, someone would be there to help her."

I let my hands drop, spilling my few possessions on the bed. "You really care for her," I noted.

"There is very little I wouldn't do to protect my sister," he agreed. "So, for Ephie, please get into bed and drop this nonsense of leaving."

"Honestly, Nick, I don't know where I would be without you. How will I ever be able to repay you?"

He smiled at me. "I am certain you will repay your debt."