I’m dropped in the middle of a party, surrounded by people I know only on a surface level. The corners of my vision are hazy, and this scene has a significantly darker feeling than the other ones I just witnessed. They made me feel warm and safe, but this one is cold, teeming with bad intentions.

I stumble through the living room, weaving my way between different partygoers, trying to get to the exit. Someone shouts for me to stay, but it only makes me move faster, giving in to the distinct urge to get as far away as possible.

“Leave me alone!” I hear, and the voice sounds like mine.

They call for me again, hot on my heels as I stalk through the house.

Finally, I reach the front door and fling it open, but all I see is darkness, the world shattering into tiny pieces beneath my feet. I hear the screech of tires, see the glare of headlights fast approaching, and this time, I’m unable to move out of the way before it strikes me. I brace for impact.

But I feel nothing, a slideshow of memories fluttering through my mind too quickly to latch onto any of them, until I’m plunged into the deep dark of the forest.

A guttural feeling of terror takes over my chest, and I want to scream, each shadow a menace. My chest heaves, and when I look down, my fingers are covered with blood, my vision swaying.

“At the sound of my voice, you’ll come back to the present.”

Dr. Meyer’s voice breaks through the noise, and I follow the thread desperately. The trees slip into oblivion one by one, and I begin to feel the chair beneath me again, tethering me to the present.

“That’s it,” he coaxes. “Open your eyes whenever you’re ready.”

I inhale sharply, eyes snapping open, and instantly I register that my cheeks are wet with tears. My body feels numb as I gaze at the ceiling, trying to even out my breathing. I focus on the sound of the clock ticking, settling my heart rate.

Dr. Meyer waits until I’ve calmed down. “How are you feeling, Allie?”

“I . . .” I stammer, doing my best to remember everything I saw before it disappears too. I hold my hands up, half expecting to still see blood staining my skin.

Not real.

“Take your time.”

The weight of what just happened settles heavily on my chest, and I take a shuddering breath. “I don’t want to do that again.”

“Can you tell me about what you saw?”

I push myself into a sitting position, my head spinning as I fumble for the button to make the chair sit upright again. “I’m done,” I tell him. “I want to go home.”

“But we need to discuss—”

“I’m done,” I repeat, forceful this time, though my voice shakes. He falls silent.