text: Nothing is worse than having your sleep stolen from you unexpectedly. But, in retrospect, the unexpected is becoming the new norm. Death is in the air; people are hiding themselves from anything that’s real anymore and here I am, sitting up in bed, stirring due to a case of late-night insomnia. At any rate, I decide to check the time on my phone, despite knowing it would only make the fight for sleep all the more challenging. The simple action of pressing down the rubbery power button provides some sense of ease in my late-night unrest. I immediately wince upon turning on my cellular idol but a millisecond after open my eyes completely to realize some more of the unexpected. Atop my lock page, I see a message sent from my best friend Derek. Derek was always more outgoing and adventurous then I am, but even I was surprised to see a message from him at two-twenty-five. After I quickly opened my phone, like a thief typing in some digital safe code, I was welcomed with a message from Derek asking what I was doing. A part of me wants to send him a message in all caps saying, I WAS SLEEPING, YOU MORON! But he’s the closest friend I got, and I don’t want to seem like a loser that does homework on the weekend and goes to bed early. So, I send a more casual retort. Why? After a single blink, his response dots appear making me wonder what’s Derek is getting into this late in the night. Meet me at this club. What club is open now and why does he pick tonight of all nights for that matter. So without a further thought I franticly type, Isn’t that illegal ? As the message leaves my safe place secluded by three dots, I regret sending the message at all. As before, his reply is almost immediate leading me to believe this must be pretty important, because Derek hardly texts me at all when he’s out. Maybe but just get down here. By now. I’ve had it with the ambiguity of his proposal and my sleep deprived animosity types away, Why do you need me to be there? Don’t you have more exciting friends to ask out? His reply appears. Becauuse, guess who just showed up? Thanks to my introverted nature his guessing game feels more like scratching at my brain, but I reply anyway . Who? I anxiously observe as his message generates. Sydney Wilcox. As soon as that message appears, I feel excitement accompanied by a nauseous feeling. But even that would be an understatement. Maybe this is what people mean by getting butterflies? See, ever since I first laid eyes on Sydney in my English class last year, I felt that feeling. But, of course, time went on and class after class would pass without a word. Before I got a chance to confess how I felt about her, it was already too late. The semester had ended and the only person I mustered up the courage to tell was Derek. Of course he made fun of me for it, but after he saw how broken I was he helped me through it. Maybe that’s what he’s doing now. Or maybe this is just some scheme to get me to go clubbing with him. Whatever it may be, it’s been nearly a year since I’ve seen Sydney or really anyone outside my parents for that matter. So I sprint to my shower and wash out my bedhead and hopefully the dread that comes with significant social interaction. Oh, what I wouldn’t give to go home with her tonight! Or even have a simple conversation... At any rate, both felt equally impossible until tonight. After I turn off the showerhead I spend way too much time doing my hair in the mirror, then sprint to my room. I realize I forget the stray textbook on my floor as I fall flat on my face. Just like that, the illusion dies, and it all comes back to me. Why I want to see her in the first place? Why I study on the weekend when I could be out raising Hell with Derek? And why would a scrawny college nerd would never have a chance with a girl like Sydney? My self-deprecation is suddenly brought to a hiatus after I hear a buzz come from atop my bed, followed by a murmuring from below. I must have woken my parents with my tumble. Then, with the speed of a cheetah, I rise to my feet, throw on a black t-shirt and jeans and almost leap out my window onto the tree outside. While I may dedicate way too much of my free time to my studies, I still love to climb trees. Upon reaching the bottom of the tree trunk in a manner even a ninja would admire, I quickly turn on my car and speed off to the nameless coordinates that Derek sent me. Shortly after parallel parking my car in a spot where I pray it’s too late to be towed, I make my way over to the “entrance” of the club. Upon my arrival, I am met by a burly, yet dapper man who stops me and asks for my identification. Luckily, in the same moment Derek, sporting a polo shirt and slacks comes out of the club and drags me in. Now I’m getting the a-okay and even a smile from the same man I thought could bury me. Luckily, Derek was an upperclassman who took me under his wing, an analogy that was quite literal as we descended down the stairs with his arm around my shoulder. The nauseous feeling comes back, except this time without the excitement. This feeling seemed to only get worse as we entered the club. As stated previously, this is not my scene, not before the pandemic, not now. My eyes flutter around the war-like landscape tattered with blinding strobes, deafening music, and enough people to fill out a small army. Eventually, Derek approaches a group of five that I can only assume is his usual crew. I hold back and begin to look around for you know who, but the search is fleeting. Because just as my eyes start to dance around the room like most of the people in there, my attention is pulled right back to Derek, who is now waving me over with a Cheshire grin. I hesitantly approach and once I am introduced to Derek’s band of clubbers, I begin to look around at each member of the group. My anxiety builds to a crescendo. I feel each one of their piercing stares penetrate my mind and maybe even my soul. I start to wonder, “Can they hear my thoughts? Do they know behind my hard outer layer hides a scared little boy who wants to go home?” As my anxious thoughts race, one of Derek’s friends breaks the ice with me after handing me a drink. As he mouths words that sound more like gibberish in this bedlam, my heart begins to race. Not knowing what he said but wanting to reply, I take a sip from the already open beer and scream the obvious, “This music’s really loud!” With ears adept for the environment, they hear me and respond in an uproar of laughter. My nausea seems to only get worse, and I begin feeling sweltering heat in my upper body. Suddenly I begin to hear a voice in my head. This voice, unlike my own, makes the room spin around me as if I where a couple bottles in. They’re not laughing because you're funny, they’re laughing at you, you loser. Why did you even come out of your hole in the first place? Not only are you a loser, you’re an incompetent idiot. All the while, Derek’s friends talk to him and occasionally talk to me, but all I hear is this damn voice. Why don’t you just go home? I mean, Sydney? Really? “Just go away. Just go away. Just go away!” I yelled. Seconds after, I realize the implications of the thought that escaped my mind. Everything comes into focus and I can hear again. Sydney had just approached me and the group and was now running away with tears fleeing her eyes. “Way to go. I set up a night for you and the girl of your dreams, and what do you do? You scream in her face,” Derek said. I sprint to the bathroom to at least try and recollect myself, and guess who comes along. Nice going bud. Maybe next time she’ll tell you she loves ya. Once again, my thought escapes, “Just shut up!” Everyone near the bathroom looks over to me as I shove the door open. It’s as if I am stepping off a boat. As I enter, I hear whispering strewn with faint giggling. As I drunkenly make my way over to the first stall, I’m on the verge of puking. Suddenly, the seemingly distant noises sound closer than ever. Could this random ambience be trapped in my mind like my unwanted, commanding visitor? The truth was revealed too soon; I cautiously pushed on the stall door revealing the source. Right before my eyes was a man sporting jeans and a biker top with a silver cross. He had a mean look and arms that could probably pop my eyes out with one squeeze. As for the woman that he was kissing she wore a tattered belly shirt and jean shorts so short you could see the pockets. As I awkwardly watched them, I felt the vomit rise to my throat, but even in my frozen state I was able to choke it down. It was this faint revolting sound, however, that caused the woman to open her eyes and draw the attention of her lover. “Get get of here, freak!” Just like that my trance is broken, but not soon enough. Just as I am about to leave, the man screams, “You better run before I kick your little ass, es scortum obscenus vilis!” As he yells what sounds like some dead language, the man’s eyes turn as black as sin and make me question my own morality before adrenaline takes the wheel. Almost immediately after making a b-line out of the club, I spew my guts out onto the stairwell. By now, I no longer have the energy to stand so I fall to the floor. Then the bouncer, looks down at me with the same eyes the biker had and starts screaming, “fututus et mori in igni!” To my surprise, and surprisingly my delight, Derek bursts out of the club not a second after, screaming at the man. “Leave him alone Morris, I’m sure Jack’s not the first one to vomit on your precious, might I add, illegal, club steps.” He looks down at me, following up his confident backlash with a voice one might use to talk to a child as he puts his hand down. “Hey bud, let’s get you home, okay?” In that moment, the voice returns. He’s not you’re friend. If he was, would he talk to you like a child? Better yet, would he have had one of his friends drug you? After putting the pieces together, I slap Derek’s hand away and start to back Derek up the stairs as I scream, “What did you put in my drink, Derek? Just because I don’t waste my night’s partying like you doesn’t mean you have to drug me!” Derek screams back in a slur as I step closer and closer to the street behind me out of fear, “I didn’t give you anything man. Just because you lost your mind after one drink doesn’t make it my fault!” Derek shoves me a little and the burning sensation returns. “Does it Mr. I’m gonna become a recluse because some chick I’ve never even talked to breaks my heart!” As he yells this, Derek’s eyes blacken and he shoves me so hard, I fall into the street and a car almost hits me. The driver then gets out and screams at me with the same soul-less eyes. After that, I ran away so fast my heart felt like it was going to burst. Once I arrived at my car, I got in and gassed it out of there, only looking back once or twice. For the rest of the night, I sat up in my bed looking out my window every now and then for those nightmarish creatures that were once people. When daybreak finally came, I passed out and slept for almost all of Sunday. I didn’t wake up until my parents asked me if I wanted dinner. I thanked them, but told them I was sick and went right back to staring out my window. By the time Monday rolled around, I was, you guessed it, sleeping late. In fact, the only thing that truly woke me was a call from “Derek,” or whatever was left of him anyway. After letting the call run its course I saw that he had left five calls before now, and even a voicemail that I promptly click on. “Hey man, look, I’m sorry about last night. I was a little drunk, but I don’t want this to get in the way of our friendship. Look, you already missed Calc, but if you hurry over you can probably still make Anthropology. Hope to see you soon dude.” After hearing the beep reminiscent of a flatline, I fall back on my bed and start to debate going to class at all. I mean I could go to class, but at the same time, I’d rather keep my head then a couple of A’s. However, that did sound like the Derek I knew growing up. Unless he’s only trying to lure you into a trap. No, he’s only trying to help me. Oh like he helped before when he invited you out to drug you, so you could make a fool of yourself in front of Sydney. A single tear falls from my eye. He’s not your friend anymore he’s one of them. I do start to feel dead inside after I am reminded of, quite possibly the final time I’ll ever see Sydney again. The tears welling up in her eyes make my face and my stomach cringe. No, this can’t be it. It can’t end here. I bound out of bed, my heart beats faster as I near the door. You better not be doing what I think you’re doing. After opening my front door, I feel the sharp burning in my chest. Do you want to die!? Refusing to quit, I make my way to my car and speed off to class. Once I finally arrive at the school, my chest feels like a furnace and my heart is beating a drum. After wiping the sweat off my brow, I look in the rearview mirror. I look as bad as I did the night before, but I follow through with my plan anyway. As I walk to class my hand starts to tremble, so I conceal it with my other hand. Look, If you walk into that classroom, one of two things is gonna happen. One, Derek and his posse will kill you. Or two, you walk into the classroom and spew your guts out again. Then everyone at the school will hate you too. “Just leave me alone!” After looking up from the ground I see two other students diverge to the other side of the walkway. Oh wait, they already do. My bodily conditions only become worse the closer I get to the classroom. Just like last night, my environment starts to spin again. When I finally arrive at the door, my trembling hand reaches out to grab the door handle. Upon making contact, I experience the worst premonition, enveloped in fire. When I come back to reality and pull the door back, I wince and feel vomit bubbling up in the back of my throat. Don’t say I didn’t warn you, you little faex. Upon hearing this I feel a bodily sensation run from head toe and I come to the realization that it’s all in my head. But to the outside world, I was simply paralyzed in the doorframe. Just then, the entire class looks back at me with eyes blacker than the bottom of the sea. Out of child-like fear, I quickly look over to the professor who also has the same eyes. So I simply close mine and repeat the following mantra, it’s all in my head, it’s all in my head, it’s all in my head! Is it over? Are they gone? Guess there’s only one way to find out. Just then, I open my eyes to see a class of iris filled corneas. I can’t help but smile as I look at the sea of amber, blue, brown, gray, green, and hazel eyes. I spot Derek who shoots a smile back before yelling through clasped hands, “Don’t fall asleep now. You just got here.” Almost the entire class laughs, and without skipping a beat, I join in. I did notice however, one person was not laughing. A person I never thought I would see again, yet here she was, staring at me with her deep blue eyes. After class, I finally talked to her. I never thought that I might need to apologize, yet here I was, ready to take on the world and whatever black-eyed demons came my way.