Hatchetfield and Friends

3 - Sweet Dreams Are Made of Screams

                         Part One

Emma was a strong person. Or, at least, on the outside. Acting tough and flippant, like she doesn't give two shits if the world is ending. Like, yeah, oh shit, we're all gonna die...but I'm good with that. Yep, that's Emma. On the outside.

The insides...well, they're worse than the outside. They're made of freaking marshmallows. On the inside, Emma loves romantic comedies, she fucking loves cuddling, romantic or not, is hopelessly in love, and is...afraid. she's terrified and haunted.

Every night, shadows creep and whisper and tiptoe and seep into her dreams, into her soul. They pry open her chest and fill it with a black, choking tar. And every night, she fights it, fights until her screaming destroys her throat, her lungs are torn and deflated, mind is consumed by black tar.

But not when he shows up.

Paul. His name is Paul. He comes into her dreams like a ray of sunlight, like an angel coming to save her from the demons dragging her down to hell. He's her soulmate. And she is his.

For the longest time, Emma struggled through the first twelve years of her life, believing that she had no soulmate. She wasn't worthy of one, wasn't good enough, couldn't be loved. That's what her mother told her.

So Emma believed she didn't have a soulmate. But her sister did. Jane told Emma every night, whispered into her ear that someone was out there, waiting for her. And Emma would have just a small glimmer of hope. And then she woke up every morning to her mother yelling at her, bottle of pills in hand.

Jane always helped her through everything, was always there for her, and Emma was always there for Jane. Not that she needed it that much. Jane had good grades, a secret boyfriend, and her mother loved her.

And then her car crashed, with her husband and child inside. And Emma wasn't there. She was off escaping, leaving her sister behind.

But once Emma came back...oh, boy. Her sister didn't leave her behind. Every night she sat in that car, in the driver's seat where Tom, her husband, should've been, her sister asking her a slew of questions.

"Will you come to my wedding?"

"Will you come to the baby shower?"

"Will you be by my side when I have my first child?"

"Will you come to Tim's first birthday?"

And then someone smashes into the passenger seat, and the car spins. Emma is awake, while Jane is unconscious, free from the pain and horrors. Her blood and guts splatter onto her. Broken glass flies everywhere like angry snow. No one stops to help. The person in the other car steps out and walks away, totally unharmed. Emma screams, and screams, but no one comes. No one cares.

She used to have this dream all the time, every night, ever since Jane died. but Paul figured out how to lucid dream more, and so he came. He came to help her.

When she as thirteen, he somehow managed to slip into her dreams every once and a while. Emma remembered only his voice and name when she woke up. And after it happened so many times, and the way he made her feel when she was around him, even in if was in a dream, was absolutely amazing.

And so from there on out, Paul came to the rescue whenever he could. She wouldn't recognize him at first, seeing as how she didn't know his face. But in the backseat, he leaned forward, gave her a quick peck on the cheek, and told her it'd all be over in a little while. He gave her a hug as best as he could by wrapping his arms around her waist, and for some odd reason, it did comfort her.