Story 2: Him or Me

His eyes were always my weakness. The way he looked at me with his dark blue eyes. I could tell myself that he loved me. It felt good to be stared at in that way sometimes. I enjoy the smell of coffee in the morning when he makes some, which makes him always smell amazing in the morning. It helps me relax after a horrible night, which today was no different.

“How was your night, Ash?” He asked, as I walked into the kitchen. I stared at him for a moment, he always wore the same band t-shirt with red sweatpants. I wonder how often he washed them, which I hope the answer is often. His hair was in a bun, and he wore his cute, nerdy glasses. “Nightmare as usual.” I answered, sitting next to him and drinking the coffee. He just looked at me and drank some of his tea. My boyfriend always preferred tea to coffee. I joke that it’s because he’s from England. He always snarled at me and called me some dumb British insult.

We sat there in silence and drank our drinks. What got to me was him not asking what my dream was. Not like he’s not interested, he just stopped asking. Maybe he got tired of hearing about the same dream a hundred times. “Deren?” I said his name hesitantly, and continued talking: “Do you think I should talk to someone about them?” He didn’t look at me and just sighed: “There are just dreams, Ashley. Plus, if you didn’t get rid of them by now, then what’s the point?” Harsh. But I’m used to that. I stayed silent. It only troubled me, but everyone around never seemed to really take it seriously. He made me breakfast. He was an okay cook. He always burned my bacon though, which I never complained about. He was already making me food, even if he knew I didn’t really like bacon or eggs.

The day passed by, I went to my job. I was a primary school teacher. I always liked kids, which was weird, as my mother was the complete opposite, but I got this trait from my dad, who was always a big softy around kids. I always loved my dad, he was the one who raised me my whole life to be a giving and loving person. I should visit him soon.

“He lives like two cities away and in a cottage. Also, we have jobs, Ash.” My boyfriend argued with me, as we lay in our bed. I didn’t argue back and sighed, I was too exhausted from my work. I just went to sleep and got ready for another nightmare to come.

My dreams are always the same. I woke up drenched in sweat. I got up. I went to the bathroom and saw him. In the corner of my eyes. No face nor any features, just a black figure. But tonight, he spoke.

“Him or Me?” I could feel water flowing from my face. Who was “he”? What does this thing mean by “me”?