Chapter 1: An Old Nightmare

In the chill of the autumn in the downtown Saturday bustle – couples strolling hand-in-hand, buskers strumming melancholic tunes, and the smell of roasted chestnuts and pumpkin spice lattes hung heavy in the air.

A couple was sitting on one of the benches. The woman, Amelia, was staring at the cup of coffee that they bought earlier with a pretty difficult face before glancing at her boyfriend, Victor who seemed to be really focused on his phone.

"Hey," she began, her voice tight. Victor finally looked up, a flicker of surprise crossing her face before being replaced by curiosity.

"Yeah?"

"We need to talk," she said, her smile faltering. 

Amelia tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, a nervous habit of hers that used to be endearing. Now, it just felt pointed. 

Victor furrowed his brow, a knot forming in the pit of his stomach. "Talk? What's going on?"

"Victor, listen to me first. Please."

"Ok." Victor, trying to calm down.

She took a deep breath. "It's about... us."

The crowd seemed to thin around them as if the city itself held its breath and the bustling sounds of the city faded into the background as the weight of those words hung in the air.

"Us?" he echoed, his voice sharp. "What about us?"

"It's just…"

"We haven't been…happy." She sighed, her voice barely above a whisper. "For a while now."

"I think we're heading in different directions. I need space to figure things out, Victor," she admitted the words tasting like ashes in her mouth.

His eyes widened, disbelief settling in. "But we've been through so much together. Can't we work through this?"

She shook her head, strands of her chestnut hair falling across her face. "Sometimes, it's better to let go before things get too complicated. I hope you understand."

Desperation etched across Victor's face as he reached for her hand. "Noooo, please. We can make it work. Just give me a chance."

She hesitated, torn between her decision and the emotions bubbling within. 

Before she could respond, a distant sound grew louder, a low rumble filling the air. Both of their eyes widened as they turned toward the noise.

"What's happening?" he asked, a mixture of confusion and concern in his voice.

Suddenly, a surreal sight unfolded before them – a massive trunk appeared out of nowhere, hurtling towards them with surprising speed. 

Panic seized both of them at the sight.

In that split second, the world slowed down, and out of nowhere, she shoved him with all her might. 

"Victor, move!" Amelia screamed.

He stumbled back, phone clattering to the ground, just as the monstrous trunk of the car slammed into Amelia, the force of the impact throwing her off the bench in a sickening arc. 

Time seemed to stop completely. Victor, frozen in a state of horrified disbelief, watched as Amelia's body collided mid-air with a nearby lamppost before crumpling lifelessly onto the ground.

The screech of metal on metal finally ended as the runaway truck, its momentum spent, shuddered to a stop. The city noises returned in a deafening rush – sirens wailing closer, shouts of panicked witnesses, the frantic honking of horns.

But for Victor, the world was muted. He stumbled forward, his legs shaky, disbelief battling with a rising wave of nausea. 

He reached Amelia, his hand hovering over her still form. He couldn't bring himself to touch her.

A choked sob escaped his lips as he saw the unnatural angle her arm twisted at, the stain blooming on her formerly vibrant jacket.

"AMEEEELLLIIIAAAAAAAA…..!!!"

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

!!!

Gasping, Victor bolted upright in his bed. His eyes snapped wide open and his chest heaved, each breath rugged and uneven.

Sweat clung to his skin, cold and clammy despite the warmth of the room and he could feel that his heart was beating frantically inside his ribs.

 "Whoa, whoa, whoa," he rasped, trying to force his breathing under control. Sweat beaded on his forehead, trickling down into his hairline.

When Victor's breathing was finally under control, he covered his face with both hands and through the gaps of his fingers, he somehow noticed that the sheets tangled around his legs were slick with moisture. 

Victor lightly shakes his head, letting out a sigh and closing his eyes shut. He then lightly rubbed the corners of his eyes with both hands. 

After a moment, he managed to croak out a question. "Why the hell am I dreaming about that again?" 

He knows it was just a dream. A bad one, sure, but a dream nonetheless. Fifteen years. Fifteen damn years had passed since that day. Why the hell was it haunting him now?

Victor then opened his eyes again, staring at the flickering light on the ceiling. The question hung heavy in the air, unanswered. 

"Forget it." He blurted, knowing better than anyone that dwelling wouldn't bring her back to him. With a sigh that carried the weight of the past five years, Victor threw back the covers. 

Sleep, it seemed, was a luxury he wouldn't be indulging in for a while. Without thinking much, Victor scanned his bedroom. 

It was a surprisingly modest space, adorned with a simple mix of furniture and a scattering of a few personal belongings that he had.

He then glances at the faint glow of his digital clock displayed at 6:12 AM, and after a slight pondering, he needs a distraction, someone to talk to, someone who wouldn't judge him as much. "I guess I have to call that guy."

With a light sigh, Victor snatched his phone from the nightstand, his thumb scrolling through his contacts list, stopping at a name that always brought a wry smile to his face – Marco.

"I hope this bastard wouldn't chew me off for calling him this early." He muttered, scratching the back of his head. While he knew Marco wouldn't mind Victor calling him, Marco would still be angry at him for disrupting his beauty sleep.

He could just call the other guys that he is close with but in all honesty, he felt that is the only person in his list of buddies that he trusted enough to unload his emotional mess onto even at this ungodly hour. 

Despite a pretty terrible personality, Marco is actually a pretty nice nice guy in his book because he is the type of guy who wouldn't judge wrongly without hearing first, and wouldn't pry deeply unless the other person felt comfortable about it. On top of that, when you need someone to talk with or a steady presence at the very least, he'd be there.

"Alright, here goes nothing," he muttered, tapping the call button after taking a deep breath. He hit the call button and placed the buzzing phone close to his ear.

The phone rang once, twice. Just as Victor started to consider hanging up and trying to salvage some sleep, a gruff voice filled his ear.

"Victor? What the hell man?! This better be good, man. It's barely past sunrise."

To Be Continued