Chelsea

Chelsea

By Michael Knight

(WARNING: Contains elements that may trigger some readers such as violence and mental health)

Chelsea Wright was an average seventeen-year-old girl. She was a cheerleader for her high school and captain of the lacrosse team. Her boyfriend, Tyler Banks, was the love of her life and the star pitcher for the high school baseball team. Everyone loved her, and everything in her life seemed to be perfect. At least, it was before the dreams started. 

One night, Chelsea had the strangest dream. She was in an old asylum, and no one else was around. She was all alone. She heard people talking very loudly, but when she walked down the long corridors, there was no one to be found. No source for the loud voices. This dream caused Chelsea to wake up in a cold sweat. It seemed so life-like, and she was relieved to find that it was only a dream. 

Weeks went by, and Chelsea continued to have this dream. Every night, she would get to the end of the corridor and wake up in a cold sweat without ever finding who the loud voices were. This began to take a toll on Chelsea; She started failing classes and skipping cheerleading and lacrosse practices, and her relationship with Tyler began to deteriorate. She had become another person. 

Her home life had changed, too. She was standoffish with her parents and always stayed locked in her room. This went on for a couple of months until Chelsea's dream changed. They, somehow, became darker. 

She was still in the asylum, but now she was able to make it into a room at the end of the corridor. The only thing in the room was a solitary chair that sat in the middle of the room. In the chair sat a disheveled woman. She was strapped to the chair so tightly that her wrists and ankles were bleeding where the straps were. 

"Hello," Chelsea said cautiously. There was no response from the woman in the chair. "Hello," Chelsea said again. Again, there was silence. Chelsea moved closer to the chair and slowly walked around until she was face-to-face with the woman. She was gagged, and her eyes were full of fear at the sight of Chelsea. She began to shake her head and mumbled something toward Chelsea. Chelsea raised her hand to remove the gag, and the woman's head stilled, and the mumbling stopped. 

A slit appeared across the woman's throat, and her blood rushed to the floor. Her head fell limp and lifeless, along with the rest of her body. "What the.." Chelsea started to say and was cut short by her mother calling her name, waking her up, and pulling her out of this nightmare. 

Chelsea was relieved to have no more nightmares as the next few days passed. She started sleeping better, and her grades in school started improving. She seemed to have gone back to being her usual self. 

Chelsea heard the news report at the table eating her breakfast before school one morning. "The killer's identity is still unknown at this time, " the reporter said. "But, the victim's identity has been released as thirty-six-year-old Marion Holden. Her funerary services are to be held tomorrow at 7 p.m. Good news for turkey lovers, local farmers…" 

"What is this world coming to?" Her father asked. "Poor lady was just on her way home from work the other night, and then BOOM, she's snatched up and murdered."

"Oh wow!" Chelsea said. 

"Yeah," her father continued. "And, to beat it all, they did it in the creepiest place possible: the old nut house out on the edge of town."

"Roger, don't say nut house," her mother scolded her father. 

"Where?" Chelsea asked. 

"The old Miltonville Asylum, sweetie," her mother answered. 

Chelsea sank into her chair, and she got a sick feeling in her stomach. She got up from the table and ran out the door. 

"What was that about?" Her father asked. 

"I'm not sure," her mother answered. 

On her way to school, Chelsea couldn't stop thinking about her last dream. Was it a coincidence? Was there a link? Surely, it was a coincidence. It had to be. 

A few nights later, Chelsea's nightmares returned. This time, she was at the pier. She was walking along the beach under the pier when she saw someone tied to one of the pylons. The man was gagged and wearing a blue shirt and cargo shorts. He reacted the same way the woman in the other dream did when he saw Chelsea's face. He was terrified and mumbling something that Chelsea couldn't understand. 

The tide was coming in fast, and she stood there and watched as the water quickly engulfed the man. In an instant, he was gone. She quickly woke up and sat straight up in her bed, gasping for air. She stared at her bedroom wall momentarily and then burst into tears. 

She decided to tell her parents about her dreams. They assured her that her dream about the woman was just a coincidence and the other dreams would pass. That made her feel a little better, but she still felt upset at how real these dreams felt. She told her parents she thought she might need a therapist, and her parents agreed. They made her an appointment for the next day. 

That night, as with the dream about the woman, she had no dreams and got a good night's rest. The next morning, she woke up and got ready for her appointment with the therapist. Her mother offered to drive her and sit with her. 

They arrived at the office and sat in the waiting room. "Mom," Chelsea said. "I'm scared."

Her mother smiled at her, "I know, sweetheart. But, the doctor can help you make sense of all of this." 

Chelsea smiled back at her and gave her mother the biggest hug she had given her in a long time. The two embraced each other, crying when the secretary called them, "Miss Wright, Dr. Hall will see you now."

Chelsea and her mother ended their hug, smiled at one another again, and held hands as they walked into Dr. Hall's office. During the session, Chelsea told the doctor about her dreams and how the lack of sleep and dark thoughts turned her into a different person. The doctor told her the same thing that her parents had told her: That they were just a coincidence and would soon pass. 

He also told her he would prescribe her a sleep aid to help her get some well-deserved sleep. They said goodbye to the doctor and walked out of his office. On their way back through the lobby to the door, they saw the news on the television. Chelsea stood there frozen as she listened to the reporter. 

"The victim was found tied to a pylon under the pier. The victim has been identified as twenty-five-year-old Derek Sánchez. The police are still looking for any leads as to who is responsible." 

Chelsea's mother and Dr. Hall, who was still standing at his door, slowly turned their heads toward her. Chelsea felt her heart drop into her stomach. What was happening? After what felt like an eternity, Dr. Hall finally spoke, "I'm sure that's another coincidence," he said nervously, chuckling. 

"Sure," Chelsea said sarcastically. 

On the drive home, Chelsea's mother was quiet. The quietest she had ever been. They both wanted to say something, anything to break the silence, but neither of them knew what to say. Although Chelsea couldn't tell what her mother was thinking about, she couldn't help but wonder. Was it disappointment? Was it fear at what her little girl had become? Or was she considering turning her over to be locked away in an asylum? 

Chelsea was scared and unsure of what would happen next, but she knew that she needed help. How did she know all of this? Was she psychic or something? She couldn't be psychic because they're not real, she thought to herself. 

They arrived back home, and her mother walked her inside and to her room. "You go lie down, sweetheart," her mother said calmly. "I'll come check in on you in a little while." Chelsea nodded, went to her bed, and sat on the edge. A million thoughts ran through her mind, preventing her from getting any rest. So she went to her desk and decided to write everything down. 

A while later, her mother called her down for dinner. At the dinner table, her parents were silent. A knock at the door broke the silence. "I'll get it," her father said as he dismissed himself from the table. He opened the door and saw two police officers standing there. "Good evening, sir," the first officer said. "We're looking for Chelsea Wright. Does she live here?"

"What's this about?" Her father asked in a defensive tone. 

"She's wanted for question about the two murders that happened recently," the second officer said. "Is she home?"

Just then, Chelsea and her mother stepped out of the dining room. "Roger," her mother said. "What's this about?"

"They want to take Chelsea in for question about those killings," her father replied. 

"But she's just a teenager; she couldn't have done those things," her mother addressed the officers. 

"Ma'am, no one said she did," the first officer said. "We just want to ask her questions. You’re more than welcome to follow us down to the station.”

Chelsea’s parents got their coats and keys and went to their car as the police put Chelsea into the back of their patrol car. Chelsea sat in the back of the patrol car, wondering why they wanted to talk to her about the murders. They couldn’t have known about her dreams. They arrived at the police station, and the officers led her inside. Her parents arrived not too long after them. The officer led Chelsea into an interrogation room while her parents waited in the lobby. 

Inside the interrogation room, the officers began the questioning. “ So, Miss Wright, please tell us how you knew details about these murders that were not released to the public?” The first officer asked. 

Chelsea began telling them about her dreams and how they felt so real. She told them about how these dreams had affected her. The officers called her parents into the room next to them and questioned them about Chelsea and her dreams. They told the officers that Chelsea’s dreams just started happening a few weeks ago and that she had lived a normal life until then. With no further questions, Chelsea and her parents were free to leave. On the drive home, her mother asked how they knew about her dreams. The only person other than her parents who knew about the dreams was Dr. Hall, who wouldn’t have told anyone due to doctor-patient confidentiality. “I told Tyler,” Chelsea said quietly from the back seat.  

Once they arrived back home, Chelsea went to her room and went to bed. The next two months, Chelsea’s nightmares had all gone away. She and her parents were relieved, and they began getting their lives back in order. Chelsea even confronted Tyler about why he went to the police. He told her that he told his father, who was the police chief, and that his father decided to talk to her against Tyler’s wishes. 

Chelsea eventually broke up with Tyler and moved on with her life. Everything was going great until her dreams returned one night. She was walking through the woods when she found a hole in the ground. It looked to be a grave, and when Chelsea looked into the hole, she could see a body lying lifeless in the hole. She couldn’t see the person’s face, but she could tell that it was male and that he had what looked like axe marks. She watched as a faceless figure buried the body and walked toward her. As the figure passed her, she heard it whisper, “Wake up.” 

Chelsea woke in a cold sweat for the first time in a long time. She immediately ran to her parents’ room and told them about her dream. They comforted her, and the three of them fell back to sleep. Over the next few weeks, the three of them watched the news in anticipation. But nothing was ever mentioned about a body in the woods. Chelsea felt relieved and was happy. Maybe her “psychic episode,” as her mother called it, was over. It was simply a bad dream. 

One night, her nightmares started to take a different turn. She was in an alley and watching the same faceless figure that buried that body being shot by police. In every dream, Chelsea would hear the figure’s last words, “Wake up,” just before she woke up. This didn’t scare Chelsea; instead, it gave her a sense of relief. Maybe the faceless figure was responsible for the other murders and finally got what they deserved. For whatever reason, Chelsea was not scared. In her last dream, the figure’s last words changed along with the figure’s voice. The voice was that of her mother, and the last words were, “Chelsea sweetheart, please wake up.”

Chelsea opened her eyes and found she wasn’t lying in her bed as usual. Instead, she was lying in a hospital bed handcuffed to the railings. She looked around and saw her mother, father, a nurse, and Tyler’s father, Chief of Police Banks, standing in her room. “W…where am I?” she asked in a weak, gruff voice. “What happened?”

“You’re in the hospital, sweetheart,” her mother said, trying to hide her joy and sadness. “You’ve been in a coma for two years.” 

“Two years?” Chelsea asked in her weak voice. “Why was I in a coma?” 

Everyone in the room was silent, and they all stood there looking at each other and then back to Chelsea. “You really don’t remember?” her father asked, confused. Chelsea shook her head, and her parents looked at the Chief Banks. He stepped forward and explained everything to her. He explained how they found the grave in the woods and how the locket her mother had given her was found with the body. It must have fallen off when the body was being buried. He also explained how when they came to arrest her that night, she ran and was shot by police in an alley after she fired at them with her father’s pistol that she had stolen. 

“That’s not true,” Chelsea said in disbelief. 

“I’m afraid it is, sweetheart,” her mother said. 

“H…how?” Chelsea asked, still in disbelief at what she was hearing.

Her father stepped forward. “It seems you had what they call split personality,” he explained. “One is our sweet little girl, and the other…” He paused for a minute, obviously fighting back tears. “The other was a cold-blooded killer.” 

Chelsea’s eyes filled with tears, and she began sobbing. “This can’t be true,” she said through the tears. “You’re all lying.”

“We’re not lying, sweetheart,” her mother, who was now crying, said.

“What’s going to happen to me?” Chelsea asked. 

Chief Banks said again, “After the doctors clear you, I’m afraid you’ll be brought to trial for the murders and, if convicted, you more than likely be sent to a state mental health facility. How long you’re there for will be up to the judge. I really am sorry, Chelsea. It’s out of my hands.” Chelsea looked at her parents and began sobbing again. Her parents walked to either side of the bed and bent down to hold their daughter. The three held each other, crying and trying to prepare themselves for what came next.