Page 79 of Pick Me Up On Tuesdays

Trapped. Starving. Surrounded by rot and silence so thick it pressed against my ears.

My wrists ached with the phantom bite of rope. The air smelled like mold, rust, and something worse—something metallic and thick, like old blood.

I heard the distorted voice of my stepfather—his monstrous form towering over me, barely human. His shadow moved unnaturally against the walls, stretching when he didn’t. His eyes glowed, not like fire, but like poison—wrong and knowing.

He was speaking, but the words came out warped, twisted like a broken record—scraping through my mind instead of my ears. I tried to move. I couldn’t. I was five years old again.

The memories clawed at my chest, threatening to drag me down.

I couldn’t breathe.

I gasped awake, drenched in sweat, hands shaking.

Ethan was sitting on his bed, staring at me.

I opened my mouth, but I didn’t know what to say.

"You talk in your sleep," he said.

I stiffened. "I—"

"Didn’t sound fun." His voice wasn’t teasing this time.

I swallowed, my throat dry. "It’s nothing."

Ethan raised an eyebrow. "Right. ‘Nothing’ totally explains why you look like you’ve seen a ghost."

I avoided his gaze, looking at my hands instead. My nails were biting into my palms. I didn’t even realize I’d clenched my fists.

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

Then, quietly, he muttered, "It’s not weakness, you know. Having nightmares."

I looked up.

He wasn’t looking at me anymore—just staring at the floor, his fingers tapping absently against his leg.

He knew.

Maybe he didn’t know exactly what haunted me, but he understood the feeling. The weight of something you couldn’t shake off.

For once, I felt like I wasn’t alone.

Day six:

We were filming a peaceful lake scene when a group of geese decided to declare World War III on a poor, unsuspecting duck.

Mia got it all on film. Close-up.

Max tried to "intervene" (read: he ran in screaming like an action movie hero). He got chased instead.

Joy: "And here, we witness natural selection in action."

By the time we escaped, we were out of breath, out of dignity, and out of faith in the animal kingdom.

That night, I had another nightmare. But this time, when I woke up, Ethan was there. He didn’t say anything, just sat on the edge of my bed.

He didn’t have to say anything.

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