One hundred and forty-six

Sally's POV

Thought going to bed would be the best idea for me, but turns out, it was the worst idea. Because not long after I closed my eyes, my mind took me to a strangely familiar place.

"Sally, help." A whisper rang out around me.

Standing in the middle of a barren field, 50 yards away from me, Ryan stood sullenly, his face pale, his right fist clutched tightly to his hip.

I shivered as the cold wind whipped my skin but my eyes never left him. Is he okay? Why does he look so sick?

When I looked closely at his deathly curled fists, they were covered in blood. Why? Whose blood is that? It can't be his, right? What happened?

“Ryan,” I called, but no sound came out. I called again and again until I was tired and my throat became hoarse.

He just stared at me with pain in his eyes.

He may be standing but his eyes say otherwise. The light in his eyes was gone and I wondered if it was my fault.

Looking closely at him, I felt like he was gone a long time ago and this was just an illusion.