She smirked. "Most people wouldn't find it weird. But for you? Someone who hasn't shown the slightest interest in anyone? Oh yeah, it'd be weird."
Something about that stung. I knew how I was—accepted it, even—but hearing it from her, so casually and without hesitation, irritated me.
A sigh slipped from my lips as I shut my eyes and turned my head away, hoping she'd get the hint.
"Can you leave?" I muttered flatly. "My head already hurts, and I'm feeling sleepy."
"Hey, I was just joking!" she protested, her voice light with laughter. Instead of backing off, she reached over and started poking my cheek with her finger. "C'mon, lighten up. I'm sorry. Now, tell me—what happened next in your dream?"
I groaned, my patience thinning. "Get yourself a boyfriend first," I muttered under my breath, barely above a whisper. "That is, if you manage to get one before dying of old age."
Her fingers froze mid-poke. Then, without missing a beat, she pinched my cheek—hard.
"Ow," I yelped, jerking away. "I'm a patient, you know."
She huffed, crossing her arms. "For your information, I don't have a boyfriend because I don't want one. Not that it's any of your business."
There was something in her tone—defensive, almost. But before I could comment on it, she quickly redirected the conversation. "Now quit being a brat and keep talking about your dream."
I rolled my eyes at the irony of her words but decided to humor her.
"So, this dream…" I began reluctantly. I told her everything—the eerie building, the empty halls, the faceless shadowy figures that seemed to lurk in the edges of my vision. I described how real it all felt, how every step echoed as if I were actually there, not just dreaming.
Then, lowering my voice, I added, "And the other night, after the accident... I had another one. That time, I was attacked by something—some creature. I was dying. I could feel it. The pain was real, like it was actually happening. Then, suddenly, I woke up in the hospital."
For once, Sugar didn't laugh or throw in a teasing remark. Her expression softened, brows knitting together in concern. It was like, for the first time, she actually realized I wasn't exaggerating.
"Hey," she said, her voice gentle, calmer than I'd heard all day. "It's okay. They're just dreams. You've been through a lot, Ri. Maybe this is your brain's way of processing everything—the accident, the stress. It doesn't mean anything, I promise."
It was exactly what I needed to hear. Some reassurance that I wasn't losing my mind.
Talking to her—even with her usual nonsense—made the weight on my chest feel a little lighter.
"Maybe you're right," I murmured.
We let the conversation drift to lighter topics after that, leaving the nightmares behind. At least, for now.
11:45 AM – 50 Days After the Accident
"You listening to me?"
The doctor's voice pulled me out of my daze.
"Huh? Oh, uh… not really. Sorry, can you repeat that?" I admitted, rubbing my temple. My head felt heavy, foggy from exhaustion.
He studied me for a moment, then sighed. "Those dark circles under your eyes look bad. Did you sleep at all last night?"
I shook my head slowly, the answer obvious before I even spoke. "Not really. I mean, I slept for about ten hours, but when I woke up, I still felt like I hadn't slept at all. I'm exhausted, my head's pounding, and my eyes feel like they weigh a ton."
The doctor hummed in thought, scribbling something in his notes before looking back at me. "Still the dreams?"
"Yeah."
"What kind of dream was it this time?"
I hesitated, trying to gather the broken fragments of last night's nightmare. "It was nighttime, as usual. Everything felt real—too real. I was inside some strange building, alone. Those same shadowy creatures were there, lurking in the dark, just wandering aimlessly. I didn't know why I was there… all I did was wander around."
The doctor raised a hand, stopping me mid-sentence. "Did you recognize anyone? A family member? Someone familiar? Was the setting something you've seen before?"
"No," I said, shaking my head. "The creatures didn't even have faces. And the place? I've never seen it before. It was like I was thrown into some random nightmare with no explanation."
"Was it frightening?"
It should have been. But strangely enough, fear wasn't something I felt anymore.
"A little," I lied.
He nodded, jotting more notes. "Well, we've been monitoring you while you sleep for the past few days. Physically, everything seems normal—your sleep cycle, your brain activity, everything. Your brain is functioning normally."
He paused for a moment, then added, "I think it's likely the brain injury left some residual effects on your subconscious, which could explain these dreams."
"So… it's because of the accident?" My chest tightened. "Does that mean I'll have to deal with this forever?"
The doctor shook his head reassuringly. "Your recovery has been remarkable, and your brain scans don't show any lasting damage. I believe these dreams are temporary—your mind's way of processing what you've been through. Give it time, and they should fade."
His words offered a flicker of hope.
If this was temporary, then maybe I wouldn't be trapped in this nightmare cycle forever. These dreams weren't just unsettling—they were draining me, making sleep feel more like a punishment than rest.
Before I could lose myself in thought, the doctor spoke again.
"You're being discharged today, right?"
"Yeah."
He smiled. "Alright. Let's wait a little longer. If the dreams persist, we'll explore other options. Deal?"
I resisted the urge to scoff. What am I, ten?
"Fine," I muttered, standing up with the help of my crutches. The cast on my leg made everything slower, but at least I was finally heading home.
I thanked the doctor and made my way back to my room.
A Few Hours Later
Sugar arrived to pick me up. After exchanging quick goodbyes with the hospital staff, we stepped outside.
The sunlight was almost blinding after so many days indoors. A cool breeze brushed against my skin, feeling strangely foreign. I hobbled forward with my crutches, careful not to put too much weight on my bad leg. Sugar walked beside me, her pace matching mine.
But something was… off.
Usually, she'd be chatting, teasing, or making some joke at my expense. But today, she was silent, her expression distant.
I had a feeling I knew what this was about.
"Sugar?" I asked. "You alright?"
She seemed startled, like she hadn't expected me to notice. "Huh? Yeah, I'm fine. What about you? Your eyes look like hell. What did the doctor say?"
I noticed how quickly she avoided my question. Whatever was on her mind, she didn't want to talk about it.
I decided not to push. "He thinks it's a side effect of the injury. Maybe temporary. Emphasis on maybe."
Sugar gave me a small smile and reached out, gently ruffling my hair. "You'll be fine," she said softly. "I know it."
Something about the way she said it made my chest feel a little lighter.
We made small talk as we reached the car. She helped me in, making sure I was comfortable before starting the engine.
As we pulled out of the parking lot, I leaned back in my seat, watching the city pass by.
For the first time in weeks, I felt like I was heading toward something normal.
But deep down, I knew—my dreams weren't done with me yet.