By her twentieth birthday, there are a few things Valarie Ricci knows for certain.
She knows that her waitressing job barely covers the costs of living out of a beat up old van. She knows she's stuck in the dead end hometown her high school friends...
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Valarie was a deer, broken and convulsing on the forest floor, hooked up to endless tubes and monitors. Nonno and Grace stood over her, silently watching her die with great, round, uncaring eyes. She tried to speak, to plead for help, but her tongue was a deer's and too big for her mouth. She was choking on it and could taste blood and–
She stuttered awake, chest heaving. Her back immediately met painful resistance against the table leg she was wedged against on the floor. She felt dead. Her mouth was dry, her insides all twisted, her brain pounding against her skull. She was dizzy and disgusting. She made some ungodly sound as her eyes reluctantly peeled open to the too-bright morning light.
Beside her, Alice remained asleep, half-turned on her back and half-facing Valarie, an arm still extended under their shared pillow. Her mouth hung open, and dried drool collected on her cheek. Valarie gently shook Alice's shoulder, causing her eyes to blink open with little resistance. Sober, she'd always been a light sleeper.
Alice rubbed her eyes further open and whispered, "You okay?"
"I had a dream."
She blinked once more, becoming more focused as she studied Valarie's face. "The same dream again?"
"No."
"Tell me."
In stops and starts, Valarie described the alien feeling of her body, the terror of being watched, of having no control. As she spoke, looking away too fast or shaking her head was enough to send a wave of nausea through her middle.
Alice–just like she had the previous night, just as Valarie had longed to hear–said, "You're safe. You're alright. I'm right here."
And Valarie let herself believe it because god did she want to. She wanted to believe Alice in all things. The only thing she could do was whimper in response.
"Do you need a bucket?"
Valarie's stomach felt like acid. "Probably."
"Here." Alice pulled away for a moment, taking all the warmth with her. She reached across Valarie to grab the small garbage can she had laid aside the night before.
"If I move right now," Valarie said, her voice sounding and feeling like sandpaper, "My eyes are going to fall outta my face."
"That would be exciting."
She whimpered again.
"C'mon," Alice gently said. Her hands traveled to Valarie's shoulders, slowly guiding her upright. Before she was even vertical, Valarie's stomach convulsed in protest. Alice held her hair and rubbed her back without comment as last night's dinner made a horrible reappearance.
Valarie attempted to take deep, steadying breaths as she ducked her head. "Don't look at me."
