The Key Chased the Blade

I woke up gasping and soaked in a cold sweat. Everything was dark. I was still in the guest room. It was 1:54 AM.

I ripped the covers off of me and switched on the lamp on the nightstand. The room illuminated and I saw my ghostly reflection in the mirror on the wall. My hands shook. My breath was ragged. God. Oh my God. I had the worst dream in my entire life.

I took a moment and forced myself to take deep breaths. God. What were you supposed to do when you were panicked? Count to ten? Jesus. I stared at my face in the mirror and counted to ten. My heart was still racing. I counted to another ten, and later on, another ten. After a long minute of counting, my heart managed to slow and I looked around. Everything was still in order in my room.

But then I saw my shoes, a pair of red Converse, next to the door. The sight made my breath hitch in my throat. The heel of my left shoe was caved in, like I'd put it on without shoving my foot in all the way.

Maybe it wasn't a dream.

I began to sob tearlessly. No. No no no. This couldn't be happening. This wasn't possible. It was all just a myth. Banshees weren't real. It was a superstition. It was-

But I got up out of bed and ascended the stairs to Simon's room. I was crying hard now. I didn't know what to even think. I pushed open his door and couldn't see anything, and I nearly stepped on his box of colored pencils he kept by his desk. I couldn't hear him breathing. No. He wasn't dead. Simon wasn't dead.

I reached out and pushed him. There wasn't a reaction. I began crying even harder, and I pushed him again and again. But this time, I felt him jump underneath my hands and turn over.

"Simon." My voice cracked.

I forgot that he'd taken his hearing aids out before he went to bed. Simon couldn't see or hear me at all. But God, I bet he could feel me shaking.

He covered my hands with his and squeezed. "Simon," I kept saying, even though I knew he couldn't hear me, "I know who's going to die next. I know who's going to die."

I seemed like at first he was going to sit up and turn on the lamp, but he pulled me into his bed and wrapped his arms around me. God, I was crying uncontrollably now. Simon probably didn't understand at all, but at the same time, it seemed like he knew everything. It was too late to feel like an idiot now. Simon was probably covered in snot and tears in the matter of minutes he held me.

"My brother's going to die," I said shakily. "You're going to die. I don't know how to stop it. I don't know what to do."

I signed things against his stupid skinny chest, but I didn't know if he understood a thing I was saying. I didn't think my sign language was coherent. But Simon seemed to listen. He just held me and listened. And after I was done, nothing happened. I laid there and inhaled and exhaled quivering breaths. Simon held me close to himself.

Then I felt him sign against my back, I love you.

God, I started crying again.

And I signed, I love you too back.