Taylor walked through the empty halls of Winslow, her shoes echoing softly against the stained white tiles. The setting sun cast long beams through the windows, and she caught its reflection glinting off the floor.
She sighed.
For the last year, she'd been tormented by a trio of girls—Emma, Madison, and Sophia.
It had started small: glue on her chair, spitballs in class, whispered laughter behind her back. Petty cruelties. Things she could ignore. But lately, their bullying had escalated into something darker. Then, halfway through the month, it had all… stopped.
That worried her more than anything.
It was the last day of school, though, and Taylor was determined not to run into them. She took the back exit—one she rarely used, partly because she didn't want the trio to know about it, partly because it always felt a little too quiet back there.
Her thoughts drifted to her nightmares. They'd been getting worse lately—strange, endless dreams that left her exhausted and uneasy.
It had all begun after Emma ended their friendship, in a way Taylor didn't want to think about.
"I just want this school year to be over," she thought, her chest tight with frustration.
She stopped when she reached the back door. A spray of green graffiti read Empire 88. Taylor frowned but ignored it, pushing through into the cool air outside.
The parking lot was half-empty. She fixed her gaze on the gravel path, counting the small stones under her shoes to distract herself from the thoughts clawing at the edge of her mind.
By the time she reached the bus stop, her thoughts had slipped back to her dreams again.
They always started the same: she was working on strange paperwork or playing games that didn't seem to exist anywhere on Earth. It sounded harmless—but the fear came from the crushing, endless boredom that followed.
It wasn't the setting that terrified her. It was her own feelings.
In those dreams, the boredom grew so unbearable that she—no. That wasn't her. That couldn't be her. She wouldn't… slaughter thousands just to feel something.
Would she?
The hiss of brakes startled her. The bus had arrived. Taylor climbed aboard, paid the driver, and found a window seat. She stared outside, watching the world blur past, trying to keep her mind quiet.
[Time Skip]
When she reached home, Taylor's thoughts again circled back to Emma. To the past. To the way everything had fallen apart.
She pushed it down and focused on the small things: the creak of the broken step, the weight of her house key, the click of the lock behind her.
Inside, the house was silent. She did her chores, made herself dinner, and noticed her father's car was still gone. He must be running late again.
She decided to sleep early.
She was terrified of dreaming, yes—but at least if she slept early, she could wake up feeling rested. Maybe tomorrow she'd actually do something. Something good. She had to believe that.
That this summer might still mean something.
Taylor changed into pajamas, lay in bed, and stared at the ceiling until her eyelids grew heavy.
Then she dreamed.
The dream began as it always did—with her standing in a vast arena. Angels and dragons fought below, their screams echoing off marble walls. She felt… satisfaction. Their struggle amused her.
But soon, the scene shifted. She was surrounded by paperwork again, signing names, approving punishments, her hand moving on its own.
Then she saw it—a massive crystalline being, light refracting through its body like a living prism. It loomed above her, trying to connect. It wasn't quite awake, but not asleep either.
She reached out.
The connection locked into place. It struggled against her control, but resistance was useless. It wanted to serve her.
Taylor allowed it—though she bound it with restrictions, keeping its will partially intact.
The bond was sealed.
Then came a sudden falling sensation.
Her eyes flew open as she hit the floor beside her bed, heart pounding, breath ragged.
The dream was over.
But somehow, she knew it wasn't done with her yet.