At three in the morning, the streets are silent. The garish red of her dress flickers in my vision and eventually I can no longer tell if I’m holding her in my mind’s eye or if I am still looking at her.

She takes a step forward. “Built on the body of a dragon.” Another step. “Cross her and the whole city comes crashing down.”

I force myself to sit up. “Nadia—”

The car screams out of nowhere, there’s flash of color and then I’m screaming too.

*

I jerk wake, palms icy, tears bleeding into my pillow. A coughing fit seizes me, and by the time I calm myself down, the immediacy of the nightmare has subsided.

Fifth time this month. The dreams had stopped for a while, but three weeks ago they started again, and I’m back self-medicating with whiskey and pot.

I feel a hand on my back. He's woken up by my coughing. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” I rasp, reaching for an opened can of Coke.

His hand remains on my back and I know he can feel the cold sweat soaking through my shirt. “Same dream?”

My eyes are killing me. The hangover I’m used to, but on bad nights I’ll wake up with knives stabbing the back of my eyeballs. I roll out of bed and stumble to the bathroom and throw up as quietly as possible. The pressure eases somewhat. “What are you doing here?” I ask, reaching for my toothbrush.

He sighs and gets up. “Did you black out?”

I look at myself in the mirror, face waxy and pale, monstrous bags under my eyes. I don’t know why he sticks around for this. My body has definitely seen better days. I rinse out my mouth and wash my face, then pop a couple painkillers. When I lift my head up, Nadia is standing behind me in the mirror. My heart stops. She smiles.

“Hey.” He’s standing outside the bathroom. I blink and she’s gone.

-

the last hour, esao andrews