Prompt: “I don't sleep. My mind has the capability of being dark and demented.”
“You’re scared of your dreams?”
“Yes,” He said quietly.
Atlas was getting ready for lights out, with yet another new dorm-mate, at yet another new boarding school. He hated it, being expelled again and again, but what choice did he have?
He glanced at the mirror and saw the familiar bags under his blue eyes, the mop of brown hair atop his head. His skin was pale tonight, but Atlas didn’t care. He never cared about his looks.
Louie flicked off the light and switched on a reading lamp. He started to climb onto the top bunk when he turned. He must’ve realized that Atlas hadn’t moved, or perhaps Louie could read the 14-year old’s expression. Whatever the case, he asked the question Atlas dreaded at every new school.
“Aren’t you going to bed? You look exhausted, man.”
Atlas stared at the roof, but he knew he had to answer. Without moving his gaze, he recited his usual response,
“I don't sleep. My mind has the capability of being dark and demented.”
“You’re scared of your dreams?”
“Yes,” Atlas said quietly. He waited for Louie to shrug, maybe make a point about how that was stupid, but nothing came. He heard quiet footsteps and was surprised to see Louie, obviously shocked, standing in front of him.
“Dude, no wonder you look so tired. Why? Why would you go through so much trouble to avoid dreams?” Louie questioned. His tone was concerned, and Atlas sensed he genuinely cared.
Atlas met his eyes. He didn’t like to talk about his dreams, he’d tried, on a few occasions, and ended up on the floor with tears streaming down his face. It was the same every time, no matter who he tried to talk to, he would break down and stop seeing the world, he’d only see the visions, the memories, the monsters.
“It’s- It’s nothing,” Atlas whispered. He couldn’t talk about it, he just couldn’t.
Louie arched an eyebrow but didn’t push it.
Almost a year passed before the subject was brought up again. Atlas hadn’t gotten in trouble once that year, and it was thanks to Louie, who would help Atlas with his schoolwork when the exhaustion hit too hard. Sometimes, when Atlas’s eyes started drooping, Louie would help sneak him coffee.
And of course, because he was human, Atlas still had to sleep sometimes. He never did so in the night, but sometimes, he would close his eyes during the day in their dorm. Louie woke him up when he showed any sign of a dream, so Atlas never had to see much.
Louie was a great friend, and Atlas decided that, no matter how painful it would be, he deserved to know, to understand why Atlas was willing to suffer without sleep to avoid his dreams.
“You don’t have to,” Louie replied when Atlas told him. There was worry as well as curiosity in his expression.
Atlas shook his head and started explaining. He talked about the horrible things he saw in his visions, his memories of his mom and older sister, the monsters he saw. He tried to describe the dreams, but his knees buckled. His head lolled against his chest and he started feeling feverish.
He couldn’t see, everything had gone black, yet he was vaguely aware of his name being called. Then, the dreams came.
He saw his sister, standing in front of him protectively as their mother had a fit of rage. He saw a scene like Pompeii, a volcano erupting and encasing screaming people in molten lava. He saw giants walking around cities, huge wolves following them around, with murder in their eyes.
A part of him knew none of it was true, only the first scene was a memory, the others weren’t real. That didn’t stop it from being terrifying, though. The scenes continued, they washed over him and the voices whispered in his ears: give up. join us.
He wanted to, maybe giving up would end the pain, end the suffering. Atlas was drawn, he wanted to join the spirits of the dead, perhaps he’d even get to see his sister again.
Before he could agree, the blackness crumpled.
He was kneeling on the floor, his face wet with tears. Louie was kneeling in front of him, shaking Atlas’s shoulders. He let out a sigh of relief.
Atlas couldn’t lift his head, all his strength was drained out of him. He wanted to cry, he wanted to say something. Mostly, he wanted to see Maria, for her to wrap her arms around him and whisper that it would be okay.
Louie sat him down on a chair, horror written all over his face.
“Dude, I-”
Atlas made eye contact and quietly said, “I have very good reasons to avoid sleep. Don’t tell anyone what happened, ‘kay?”
“Yeah. Yeah sure.”
Louie gave him a glass of water, and Atlas drank. He wondered if Louie would ever see him the same again. Probably not.
“Hey- hey, Atlas?” Louie whispered a question, “Who’s Maria?”
“My sister,” Atlas said simply before the exhaustion hit him and he blacked out into pure, blissful, dreamless sleep.
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