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When I reach the room, my hand blindly searches for a light switch. When I find it, and the room lights up, it reveals... an empty space.

It’s not like I expected that they left the body, but there was a lot of blood. You would think they would be like Dexter and use tarps or something.

But no, the floor is clean, no blood stains, not even the smell of bleach lingers in the air. The room looks like it hasn’t been touched in years, with a thick layer of dust on everything.

So, this has to mean I really did dream it all. But if it was all a dream, did I actually walk home in the rain last night? Or did someone give me a ride, and I was just too tired from my late shift to remember? It’s possible. Last week, I worked four doubles in a row and maybe got sixteen hours of sleep. I couldn’t remember most of the previous day from lack of sleep.

This isn’t the first time I’ve had far-out, fucked up dreams. I’ve fantasized more than once about the villains in books and movies, who would do dirty and depraved things to me.

My therapist said I have hybristophilia, sexual interest in and attraction to those who commit crimes. What a thing to have.

I’m going to chalk this up to some fucked up bloody dream, and leave it at that.

As I drive away, I look at the warehouse in the rearview mirror, and a part of me wishes it was real. That Sky really did slide his fingers deep inside me. And Midnight really did play with my clit while Sunshine sucked on my nipples, biting at my breasts. All three of them drove me into one of the best orgasms I’ve ever had.

None of it was real, though.

When I get home, I pick up all my clothes, shove them back into the hamper, and drag it down to the basement to do laundry.

The house is small, my grandparents downsized when all their kids moved out on their own. It’s mine now, and I love this little place, but the washer and dryer are crap. As I start the wash, I groan when the water comes out cold. Lovely, going to need to get the hot water tank checked too.

Boomer needs to give me a raise, or I’m going to need to get another job to keep up with everything. At least I don’t have rent to pay.

Grabbing handfuls of clothes, I shove them into the washer. Just as I’m about to close the lid, something catches my attention. Picking up my bra—the bra I’m almost positive I wore last night because all my others were dirty and I had to use my favorite pink and white ones—I find something that shouldn’t be there.

As I get a closer look, I see a dot. It’s small, but it’s there. It’s red, like a drop of blood.

My eyes go wide as I remember. Pulling my shirt open, I look down between my boobs and gasp. There’s a small, thin pink line, about the size of my pinky, lying between my boobs.

I was cut by Sunshine’s knife before he licked the blood that appeared after.

My finger rubs over the sensitive skin.

Maybe it wasn’t some midnight bloody dream. Maybe it was real after all.

That means... so are Sunshine, Midnight, and Sky.

They know where I live.

And they could be watching me right now.

Chapter Five

Cove

It’s been a week since the most bizarre night of my life, and I think it’s safe to say that I’ve been driving myself crazy hyperfixating on the whole situation.

Apart from the speck of blood on my bra and the small red line between my boobs, there's been no other evidence that the night even happened.

If I were smart, I’d let my mind agree that it was just an overly exaggerated, unhinged dream that my sick little mind conjured up.

But I just can’t get past the blood. The mark between my breasts has since faded, as if it was never there, adding to the uncertainty.

It’s thrown me off. I’ve become jumpy with paranoia that one of them is lurking around a corner.

Every time the bell over the bar door rings, my attention snaps to it, checking to see if it’s one of them.

It never is, and it never will be because it was all a dream. That's it. Nothing more.