text: [Themes: mystery / thriller]
  
  I jolt awake, drops of sweat beading my forehead and T-shirt clinging to my chest. Kicking my blankets to the floor I glance at the clock. It's just past three in the morning. I down the glass of water from my nightstand. Returning the empty glass, I debate on going back to bed. This California heat is just exhausting sometimes, which makes having nightmares more unbearable. Tomorrow I promise myself I'll go seek professional help.
  
  Tonight? I can either lay here staring at my ceiling, waiting for my nightmare to return..
  
  Or..
  
  [Author's Note: This is my first story. But I think I've got a good grasp on this. There is only one ending, but many ways to get there. Yes, I know it's short, but I'm looking for feedback.]
  
  > take a walk, dude.
  Night air fills my lungs and I take a moment to view my surroundings. My favorite, black Chucks carry me to the bottom step of my porch; my hand on the guardrail. Ahead of me is a flower shop. A bright, pink banner announcing blooming mums fills up a window and the front sign reads CLOSED. The salon next door to that is also dark inside. And so is the cafe next to that. No signs of life appear on the streets either, although I can hear people in the distance.
  
  Down the street to my left I spot a bright light spilling onto the sidewalk. An open business? Other than that, nothing but dark windows and an eerie quiet. It looks peaceful at this time of night. Or morning. I begin to investigate and take the last step off the porch. The sidewalk curls around a tree and pulls into a straight path again. I take a few steps. And hear a bloodcurdling echo from a scream ahead of me.
  
  What do I do? I need to get help before I can adventure unarmed. I whip around and start heading in the other direction. Unsure of the unfamiliar feeling I get from the left side of my porch, the right side makes me curious. I count ten cars parked from here to the stop sign, only half a block away. Interesting. All apartments in this area have designated parking zones. Why so much extra traffic? House party? New cement in parking zone? Doubtful. But I can hear shouting and whooping from around the corner. The noise dies and someone is talking.
  
  How far away are the voices? Should I...
  
  > Go find help.
  There is no other option. I must follow the voices and search for help. With the scream etched in my brain, I begin to jog to the end of the block. My footsteps echo against the buildings. The street lights above cast devious shadows and my stomach growls at the turn of events. All I wanted was a peaceful walk to clear my head. Now here I am on a rescue mission.
  
  Without much choice, I round the corner in search for the voices I heard. And I find them quickly. A group of men stand halfway down the block, in the middle of the street. They're playing.. Football?
  
  I run up to the closest man. He is dressed in blue jeans and a green hoodie. Narrowing his eyes, he listens to my story. I tell him about the scream and how I wanted backup to go investigate. The other men, about ten of them total, crowd around and listen, too. One man is wringing his hands. He has an interesting look on his face. He has a red sweatshirt on.
  
  The man in red steps forward and makes a deal.
  
  "We will help you, only if you can play a quick game with us and your team wins. If my team wins, I choose my prize."
  
  Fucking creep. What the hell kind of "prize" is he talking about? He has this wicked gleam in his eyes and I'm not sure he is trustworthy. A few men chuckle at my expression. My mouth is slack and eyes are wide. I glance among all of the men, but now notice they all look at me with a look I don't recognize. I feel my palms getting sweaty.
  
  I can play football.. I wasn't a quarterback or some hot shot. But I used to regularly play in gym class back in high school. I knew the rules. My mind races.
  
  > Desperate for backup, you agree to play a quick game.
  We face off, and the ball is hiked back to me. I toss the ball to a man on my team. He races forward along with the rest of the team and I follow along. He throw the ball to another man, who passes it to me. We weave between the other team. And I, stupidly, realize my laces on my Chucks have come undone. And I step on a shoelace. The ball slips through my fingers as I stumble forward. And I go down, my body scraping against the road. Holy shit.
  
  > You're screwed.
  The other men come to a halt. My breath is shaky and sweat beads my forehead. Time seems to stop. Street lights gleam down on us, illuminating their faces hauntingly. And the man in red steps forward through the crowd.
  
  Suddenly, they all run towards me. I don't even have a second to comprehend what's going on. Their hands are upon me, dragging me on to the sidewalk and into a dark alleyway. I scream and kick, but it means nothing. I am tossed to the ground and kicked many times. Finally, my eyes adjust to the dark. After a few more kicks the men step back.
  
  Who I believe is the man in red steps forward again. He leans down close the my face, his horrible grin inches away from my horrified expression.
  
  "Prize time," he says, his breath hitting my face. He stands up and unzips his pants.
  
  I realize no one will come running. I wonder if anyone showed up for the other screamer down the road.
  
  I close my eyes and hold my breath. Arms hold me down and the forming bruises on my stomach protest when I try to squirm. I'll spare you the details. In more than one way, I'm screwed.
  
  > A different kind of nightmare.
  They leave me naked, huddled in a bloody ball in the alleyway. Sometime soon, I black out.
  
  > Awake.
  I wake up screaming in my bed. My shirt clings to me, sweaty and hot.
  
  What. The. Fuck.
  
  I have no clue what to think. Was that real? Am I crazy? I have on the same shirt I was wearing when I went to bed. Is this the same day? I'm alone. I'm alone? I check my clock. 4:00 am. Same day.
  
  I sink back onto my pillow and wait to call professional help.
  
  I waited in bed until 8:00am. I called my doctor and he prescribed me some pretty awesome sleeping pills. Everything was starting to go great. I could actually perform at work without wanting a power-nap. And no more nightmares! It was pretty rad. Until today.
  
  > It happened at a coffee shop, located next to an apartment building across the street.
  I stand on my front porch feeling very confused. Fire trucks are lined up across the street. Flames and smoke pour out from the windows of the apartment across from mine. I glance up to the third story. It's almost like watching my own building burn.
  
  Just another pedestrian, I walk across the street from my apartment, in search of coffee.
  
  I stand in line, staring at the chalkboard menu above. There are two people in front of me and three waiting on drinks. Iced white mocha? Perfect. I scrounge for change in my pockets for a tip. The line slowly eases forward. Then I see them. Two faces across the room, among many bodies waiting for coffee drinks.
  
  A girl with black hair.. She wears a yellow, cotton sun dress and strapped sandals. Her hands play with the hem of her dress while she absentmindedly peers around the room with disinterest.
  
  And a man, at least five years older than her. He has his hand around her wrist and he eyes the crowd with a stubborn look on his face. He has light brown hair and is wearing a red sweatshirt.
  
  "Hello?" The barista looks at me curiously, then with distaste. I apologize and make my order.
  
  I get into the other line to wait on my drink. My mind races. Deja vu. I rub my sweaty palms on my jeans and sneak another peek.
  
  They weren't there. I take my mocha drink. I search ahead in the line. Nope. I run outside, plastic cup in hand. I don't see them anywhere.
  
  The firemen are still busy hosing the apartment. My stomach does flip flops. Something just doesn't make sense. I have this bugging sensation in my head, as if I should know something more about this. But I come up with nothing.
  
  It really had nothing to do with apartment. It wasn't the girl or the man or any of it. It was just me and these sleeping pills. Right?