A woman’s cry startles me awake. I reach out for my mother, but find I’m alone under my grandmother’s silk sheets. I sit up suddenly with fear. A quick glance at the massive wooden mirror reflects a youthful boy. He’s maybe eight years old, with rounded cheeks and long lashes.

            I’m staring at myself, but I hadn’t seen this version in so long I almost don’t recognize it. Another scream whips my head to the tall door and prompts me out of bed.

            “Elroy, stop it!” The shriek pierces the air. It’s my grandmother. Why does she sound so afraid? Why is she calling out my grandad’s voice with so much horror?

            “Get away from him Mom! He’ll hurt you too!” Fear threatens to keep me frozen, but I force myself to walk slowly through the marbled hallway. The space is dark, the moonlight not quiet reaching it, but I hear the elegant music and see the soft glow of the Christmas party still happening at the front of the house. It’s cut off by a heavy sound.

            Three dull thuds.

            Two more screams.

            I stop at the wall of French doors opening to one of the estate’s gardens. It’s the most private one, made just for my grandma and the dog. But it is not private enough to hide the sounds from the dozens of guests that are slowly coming up behind me to the west wing. I take a small step outside and peak to the side. I see everything in fragments-

            My grandad holding his favorite autographed bat covered in splatters of red.

            My father jumping from behind him to tackle him onto my grandmother’s gardenia bush.

            Their old large dog, slumped on the floor with a battered body.

 

            I scream.

 

​

            I jump awake to loud pounding at my door. My body is moist despite the cold air freezing me through my bedroom window.

            “Dante!” I hear my mother call from outside my room. “Breakfast is ready. Come down stairs!”

            I fumble for my phone to check the time. 9:10. Shit. I’m going to be late to my chemistry lab. I grab clothes from a pile on my chair, hope that means they’re clean, and run out the door.

            “Sorry Mom!” I call out behind me as I startle her on my way to the bathroom. “Be down in a sec.”

            I jump into a cold shower that slowly calms my nerves. I’m finally able breath and think about the dream I hadn’t had it in forever.

            It happened twelve years ago, I remind myself. If it even happened at all. After all, my grandad just got reelected as Senator under his famous slogan “Elroy Arichibald: for Families, Protecting Families.” Not a chance it’s even real.

            And yet, the question bugs me all the way down to the breakfast nook, where the cooks sets down a table of food before leaving. My mother is sipping coffee, and my father is cutting into thick bacon while studying his speech for his next campaign.

            I try to sit quietly, but catch my parents sharing a glance. Then, my father puts down his paper and clears his throat.

            “What’s wrong, Son?” He asks in his deep gruff voice. Just as deep as when he ordered my mom to take me away after my scream rippled through the house that night. If it even happened, I remind myself. 

            “Did Melissa finally break up with you?” He jokes. “I told you that family is ruthless and won’t let you date their eldest until you’re something of worth.”

            I allow an easy chuckle to ripple through me in an attempt to shake my nerves. “Not at all.” I answer. “You know her grandmother loves me.” I add, but can’t bring myself to touch my food.

            “I outta say,” my mother grins, “you should be ashamed for dating that girl just to get close to the Yarro’s” she finishes with a gentle smack.

            “That her grandmother is the Associate Director of the largest pharmaceutical company in the country has nothing to do with me dating her.” I emphasize. “I got with Melissa solely because she agreed to give me all her notes when she went into grad school.” I add to humor her.

            Another beat passes before I add, “although, I did want to ask you about something.” I say with caution, attempting to swallow the growing lump in my throat. “I’m having that nightmare again.”

            My mother’s soft gasp reminds me I don’t need to specify what nightmare haunted me for nights throughout my childhood.

            “What about it?” My fathers asks curtly.

            I let out a small soundless laugh. “I can’t tell if I’m just dreaming it up or if it actually happened.”

            My dad hesitates, glancing over at my mother, until his conscious wins over and he lets out a deep sigh. “Yes, Son. It happened.”

            At this, my mom stands up frantically.

            “For God’s sake Dante, why would you even bring that up?” She calls out through a cloud of strangled speech. “It was established that my father’s actions were due to PO-580, remember?” She enunciates the last word as to shove it through my brain. “And to even mention it after the harm that it could have caused his career!”

            I curse at myself in my head. That’s right, there was an entire investigation that found he had been poisoned with PO-580. Criminal organizations use it to affect politicians all the time. It makes people act entirely impulsive and violent.

            I had found it so interesting, it started my obsession with chemistry in the first place… how could I have forgotten that?

            “I’m sorry mom.” I stand to kiss her lightly on the cheek. “I won’t bring it up again. I gotta go, or I’ll miss class.”

 

​

            The rest of the day passes through an exhausting sequence of labs and lectures. When I get to my car, I see an envelope pinned to my car’s windshield. Melissa’s neat handwriting is on the cover and reads- Couldn’t catch you between labs today, thought you shouldn’t wait longer to see it though. My grandma thinks Spring Break will be the perfect time to start.

            My eyebrows scrunch as I feel a hopeful but skeptical feeling climb my chest. I carefully rip the envelope open to reveal a letter with the heading: YORRO & FOWLER PHARMACEUTICALS and just under that: Research Internship.

            “She’s amazing,” I mutter to myself. My eyes dart through the page as I read the offer and at the very bottom, in the same clean writing: I know, I’m amazing.

            I feel excitement thrumming in my chest hours later. Even as I go to bed, I can’t help the blissful ache on my cheeks as I smile, reading the letter over and over again.

            But it doesn’t take long until the dreams start again.

 

​

            “I’m sorry sweetie” I hear my grandad groan. His body is hunched over the bright white toilet, his knees on the grand marble of his bathroom. “That damned dog has always been a pain in the ass.” He repeats before heaving.

            A perfectly manicured hand taps his back curtly. I recognize it to be my mother’s, although her long hair blocks her face from my view from… my head shifts down in a snap, seeking to look down at my hands but see none. Like I’m somehow floating between the space of reality, my body not even visible.

            “But for Dante to have seen me.” My grandad cries.

            “Dante is downstairs with his father.” She answers in a harsh tone. “He is still young. The serum will help him forget.”

            “I wish I could say the same for the rest of the guests.” She grits.

            Suddenly the world seems to narrow in on me. My brain pounds against my skull with an excruciating shock that brings black shadows behind my eyes. My breath cuts to suffocation as my body realizes that it cannot be here.

            My mother comes up to the cabinet, shoving things around in the drawer before tapping the back of it. It pops off to reveal a hidden compartment and she pulls out a tiny flask, barley the size of my pinky finger. She pours its black dusk into a steaming cup.

            “Your husband and his grand morality will not forget.” My grandad grinds out.

            “His career is tied to yours so he will make himself forget.” She responds coldly, walking back to him and shoving the cup his way. “Hurry up and drink the fucking PO. The cops are on their way.”

 

​

            The next couple of weeks have me convinced I’m going crazy. Each night my body shocks my brain against itself until my headaches become permanent. Each dream becomes harder to brush off.         

            I think back to the dream of my mother having hushed words with Melissa’s grandmother while they hid in her office during a party. I shake my head in attempts to center myself. I was at that party and the entire time my mom was laughing and drinking with guests. Although there was that moment where she disappeared while everyone was trying to take pictures.

            I curse at myself for even following that train of thought.

            At least today will finally prove just how imaginary my dream of my grandad walking through the laboratories of YORRO & FOWLER was. Today, when I walk through those doors and don’t recognize a thing, I’ll be assured that I made everything up.

            I sigh in front of the mirror. At my core, I’m overjoyed to be starting my internship, but it is quickly dulled by my overtaking worry that I might be going fucking insane.

            Even as my shoulders tense, my face brightens when I finally stand in front of the massive glass pharmaceutical structure a half hour later. My movements become lighter with every step I take inside and confirm that I don’t recognize anything. Nothing. Even throughout my entire tour of the crisp offices in the first levels, the bright white laboratories of the 3rd floor, and even the cold lunch rooms in between.

            “Is that little Archibald?” I hear a deep voice call on my way out. I turn around to see a man walking up to me with the same sharp eyes and flat nose as Melissa. Her uncle is almost an exact younger version of her father. 

            “Dan.” I call back easily. “It’s nice to see you.”

            “Yeah, you too man.” He says with a grin as he reaches to pat my shoulder. “Melissa told me you’d be starting.”

            “Yeah, I’m excited until I can explore the rest of the floors.”

            “What, they didn’t show you the whole thing?”

            “I’m afraid I don’t have much clearance beyond the off-the-counter pain meds section.” I shrug.

            “Alright.” A wicked grin spreads across his face. “Then don’t tell my mom.” He nods his head back to the elevator. “Follow me.” He scans his ID in the elevator and clicks the 6th floor. “Let’s show you where they keep the good stuff.”

            “The good stuff being..?” I ask with one brow raised.

            “The research on PO-580.” My head snaps in his direction. Of course, it’s the department he oversees. Unofficially, it has historically always been a Yarros in charge of that sector.

            “Don’t get too excited. I’m not taking you into the labs.” He adds with a chuckle after seeing my reaction.

            The elevator dings seconds later and opens to reveal a beautiful modern reception. To my right, there is a hallway filled with small luscious rooms and tall ceilings.

            “Why is it so,” I pause trying to fit this room into the rest of the image of the company, “extravagant?”

            Dan’s lips twitch up. “Well, this way,” He moves into the hallway “Is where we treat anyone who has been poisoned with PO-580. Since many tend to be very influential and posh people, we like to keep the place nice.”

            “Where you treat them?” I ask. “Is that normal for a research building?”

            “PO is very special case. Follow me over here.” Dan adds as he reaches for a wooden door on the other side. “This is where we explain in detail how PO and our treatment works, for those affected.”

            I freeze as he slides open another the glass door. The space is lit with white lights overhead and metal tables. It looks like an upscale laboratory with distinct leather details. And it looks exactly like what I saw in my dream. Of course, it makes sense for my grandad to have been brought here after the incident.

            But why would I know that? My voice rages in my head. I feel my pulse quicken as the floor threatens to tip under me.

            If that dream was accurate, were the rest?

            “I’m so sorry.” I cut off whatever Dan was saying. “I forgot I have somewhere to be but thank you so much for showing me around.”

            He blinks at me slowly then smiles. “You’re remembering now, aren’t you?”

            “What?” I ask in shock. “I, uh-” My head is reeling. I rub my temples trying to ward off a headache then turn around and jab my finger against the elevator button.

            Every reality, dream, lie is slamming behind my eyes.

            I’m going to throw up.

            I force myself into my car and 10 minutes later, I’m screeching to a stop in front of Melissa’s apartment. I knock on her door with frantic knuckles and pray that she’s home. She opens the door moments later and smiles instantly.

            “I was just about to call you. How was your first day?” She asks with excitement.

            I grab onto her shoulders and move her into her apartment, kicking the door closed behind me. She looks at me with wide eyes as I tell her, “I need you to tell me if I’m losing my mind.”

            I open my mouth to tell her everything, but her nails suddenly dig into my forearm. Her face turns into a tight smile.

            “Dante,” she says in an enthusiastic tone, even when her face is anything but. “You seemed to have learned quite a lot on your first day.”

            “What? Why are you,”

            “You’ll have to tell us all about it.” She cuts me off by digging in deeper. Then, immediately after and almost inaudible she grits, “Smile.”

            I blink until I hear her grandmother’s voice from the kitchen.

            “Did I just hear Dante come in?” She steps out followed, by my grandad.

            “Yup.” Melissa says with a gorgeous wide smile. “He’s reeling about his first day.”

            Instinct takes over and I shape my face gleefully. “It’s been insane.” I laugh.