Most of the other guests already left, gone over to the next house while the stragglers like me and my mom linger behind in Joel and Tanya's kitchen. I always prefer the end of a party, as conversations get more sincere, like a tide going out and making visible all the thoughts that were buried. I'm walking back toward the kitchen but I don't want to be there, be seen. I sit down and slump against the wall, just out of sight but still close enough to hear their conversation. It's nice, to feel like I'm part of the group still, but to be alone.

"... she's not pregnant, she doesn't even leave the house. I just think she shouldn't drink cause she's a kid ... he's too hard on her, she's afraid to do anything ... I think we should be going soon. Wait did she already leave?"

Fuck. Shit. Fuck. I don't want to be seen. I don't want to be seen. I need to get out. I run to the door before she can find me. I don't want her to know I've been listening the whole time.

I grab my shoes and run out the door, putting them on outside. Joel is still out here apparently, empty-handed but the smell of cigarette smoke is still strong on him.

"Oh damn you're still here? I thought you'd have gone with your dad back to my place already," he said, standing up and making his way back to the door.

"No but I was just about to head over now," I reply without stopping, trying to put distance between myself and the house.

"You know the way, right? Just cut through the Wagners' yard, everybody's outside, you'll see 'em'," He's standing at the doorway now. Just go inside. Go inside and stop seeing me.

"I remember, thanks!" I shout back, already halfway across the street. Once he's closed the door and I'm sure he's not watching I turn to head back to my parent's house. There's nobody home there. I can be alone there.

The stars are out but the moon must have already set.

The house is quiet when I get in. The dogs aren't here. Maybe they're at the kennel? Or at the party. God I feel warm. Way too warm. And oily. I close the bathroom door behind me and turn on the faucet. The cold radiates off the water on my hands before they make contact. I wash the sweat off and when I look up at the mirror my face looks wrong.

I don't want to see it. I can't look. I turn my head down and go back to washing my face. Why did it look wrong? What was wrong with me?

My reflection was dry.

I look back up, hunched over, and see her still standing tall, looking down at me. I stumble back against the wall and she opens her mouth, her gaze fixed on something somewhere far behind me. A scream forms somewhere inside my head, pushing to get out. Louder and louder, the sound drowning out all rational thought until all I feel is a raw, primal fear. Her jaw widens further and further, and the snapping of bone and the tearing of flesh roar over the scream still thundering as her jaw rips itself from the skull. The taste of hot blood floods my mouth and drips out onto the floor in front of me. I collapse forward, gripping the vanity, red pouring out and staining the sink.

My vision starts to fade, the noises crescendo and blur together until nothing is recognizable. I close my eyes as tight as I can.

It's just a dream.

It's just a dream.

It's just a dream.

A cold, dry hand grabs the back of my neck.