Free Insomnia by J. R. Johansson Page B

She pulled her thin brown hair out of its bun with shaking fingers and tried to arrange it to hide her neck and ear. Carefully lifting the plates, she headed down the hall to her kids’ bedroom.
    As the dream faded into one of Agnes at work, I clenched my hands against my forehead. This was too hard. People had dark, disturbing secrets and every time I invaded their minds it dimmed a little piece of me. I could feel the darkness from other people’s nightmares squirming into my brain. How long before it changed who I was—my idea of what was normal?
    Or had it already?

    I woke with my whole body covered in a cold sweat, and it only went downhill from there. I couldn’t even think about food without wanting to throw up, and I couldn’t stop shivering. It felt nothing like any flu I’d ever had.
    The early morning rain fell in misty droplets on my car window as I watched the shadows outside the grocery store shift around in unnatural ways. I could almost see things moving in them, moving through them—things that I knew couldn’t be real. I shivered as the well-lit interior of the store called to me. Hopefully the shadows couldn’t follow me there, but what I planned to do inside wasn’t any less scary.
    My hands shook so hard I folded my arms and clamped my elbows down on them to make it stop. Sleeping in Mia’s dreams seemed to ease the tremors, but now, after just one night without her, they were back full force. I didn’t want to think about what it might be like if I missed her again today … or if her dreams were different tonight.
    The store was nearly empty at this hour. I still had twenty minutes here before I had to head to school. Swallowing hard, I tapped on Agnes’s shoulder. She whirled around to face me, her shocked face turning to a sympathetic smile when she saw me.
    Agnes—dreams of being broken.
    “Oh, dear, you don’t look like you feel well. Can I help you find the pharmacy?”
    Ever since I woke up, I’d been thinking about how to approach her. I couldn’t help Mr. Flint’s wife—she was already dead—but Agnes wasn’t. I was done being helpless, done putting up with my curse holding me in this living nightmare against my will.
    This time I would do something.
    My jaw clenched so tight I couldn’t speak. The paper in my hand was interfering. I was interfering in the most private parts of her life. My hand shook as I handed Agnes the list of shelters and women’s rescues that I’d printed out the moment I’d gotten out of bed.
    “It’s a list of places that can help you.”
    Confusion crossed her features as she took my paper and glanced down at it. Within seconds she placed one hand to her mouth and started shaking her head.
    “Agnes, they’ll keep you safe,” I whispered. I dropped my hands to my sides.
    “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she muttered, her voice low. When she lifted her gaze to mine I could see pain and humiliation in her eyes. “Who are you?”
    I shook my head, not knowing what else to say. Agnes pushed the paper against my chest and tried to turn away. I stretched my hand out to touch her shoulder, but she flinched and I stopped. This was exactly what I was afraid of. How could I help her? I couldn’t even explain how I knew.
    Stepping around to the counter in front of her, I laid my paper on her checkout stand.
    “In case you change your mind.” Then I turned and walked out of the store into the drizzling rain.
    Once I got to the car, I kicked the tire. I rested my forehead against the cold, wet metal of the door and tried to push aside another intense wave of nausea. Why did this curse give me people’s secrets without any way to deal with them?
    I didn’t understand it, but it seemed like getting real sleep through Mia’s dreams was now creating a rebound effect that made me go downhill faster than before. If so, I needed to watch Mia’s dreams as much as possible before it got any worse.
    I climbed in the car and started the