OMJ I Killed Joe Jonas?

Brittany’s P.O.V

“You don’t understand…It felt so real.”

I was currently sitting at a local Starbucks with one of my best friends in the whole world, Capri, discussing this whole “killing Joe” dream I had.

“Did you tell him?” she asked, staring at me, questioningly.

I took a sip of the hot brown liquid, cringing as it ran down my throat. “I tried last night. But I just couldn’t get it out.”

She sighed. “Maybe you’re thinking about this a lot more than you should.”

I shook my head, absent-mindedly, my fingers wrapping around my coffee mug. And then, suddenly, that coffee mug had somehow, mentally, morphed into Joe’s neck, causing me to gasp, jumping out of my seat in the process.

Capri looked at me, warily, her brown eyes full of immense concern. “What’s wrong? You ok?”

I breathed heavily, my eyes wide as I scanned my surrounding, seeing that everyone was looking up at me as if I was some crazy woman.

Maybe I was…

“Miss?”

It sounded as if someone was referring to me, and if they were, they sounded a whole mile away from me.

“Miss?”

I heard it a lot closer this time, and I realized the person was referring to me. Everything came back into focus, as I stared back at the employee whose expression was just as confused as everyone else’s.

“Are you alright, miss?” he asked.

I nodded, just a slight downward drop of my chin.

“I-I think so…” I said, gulping heavily as I pulled my reddish hair behind my ear. “I have to go.”

Capri stared after me, somewhat incredulously, as I walked out of the shop, but I felt as if maybe she understood. I just had to get out of there.
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Later on that night when Joe came home, I was in the kitchen making dinner. He walked inside, coming up from behind me and wrapping his arms around my torso. Dark images of the dream began flooding my mind, causing me to jump slightly, resulting in me cutting my finger with the knife I was using to cut the veggies.

I cursed under my breath, pulling away from Joe’s grasp and making my way to the sink. I ran my finger under cool water, watching the small drop of blood run down my finger to the drain in almost slow motion.

“You ok, babe?” Joe asked.

I wasn’t sure how many times I had heard someone ask me that today. “I’m fine.”

“Well, here…let me see it,” he insisted, grabbing a hold of my finger, before I even had a chance to respond.

Involuntarily, I yanked my hand away from his burning touch, my back hitting the edge of the counter as I quickly backed away.

“Britt, sweet-heart, what’s going on?” he asked, and the hurt in his eyes was enough to nearly break my heart.

I shook my head, holding my breath and trying to suppress the images…the dark, scary, stupid images. It was wrong; it was just so incredibly wrong.”

“Nothing,” I lied. “I-I just had a bad day at work, that’s all. I’d like to be alone for a little bit.”

With that being said, I walked from out of the kitchen and headed towards the bathroom, where I quickly shut the door behind me, and then locked it. I walked over to the sink, flushing cold water over my face and drying it with a towel afterwards. My fingers trembled as I ran my hands through my hair, staring at the almost unrecognizable person in the mirror.

What was happening to me?