The Dream

         She woke with a start, panting and gasping for air. Sitting up, she cradled her head in her hands. A layer of sweat coated her body, gluing the sheets to her skin. She couldn't remember the dream itself but she did remember the feeling of pure terror. Glancing over at the other side of the bed she realized it was empty.

“Jessie?” she called out cautiously. No answer.

         She looked around and noticed the balcony door standing open, so she grabbed his button up, which had been carelessly tossed onto the bedside table in their haste the night before. After peeling the sheets away from her body, she slipped the shirt on and padded over to the doorway and peeked outside.

         He stood with his back to her, his hands resting on the rail, looking out over the city. Smiling she tip toed up to him, wrapped her arms around his waist and nestled her cheek into his warm back, between the shoulder blades. He didn’t move or acknowledge her.

“Hey,” she mumbled sleepily. He didn’t respond.

         Delia let go of Jessie and leaned back against the rail beside him, placing her hand on top of his. “Hey, are you ok?” She looked up at him and saw that he tears gliding down his stubbled cheeks. “Hey…” letting go of his hand she reached up to brush the hair out of his face and cupped his cheeks in her hands. Swiping away the tears with her thumbs, she stood on her tip toes and gently kissed him, “Hey, don’t cry, what’s wrong? You can tell me Jessie.”

         Slowly he turned and wrapped his arms around Delia’s waist, pulling close and burying his face into her short curly hair. He mumbled something almost unintelligible into her ear and her eyes grew wide, suddenly they were on the roof.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“J-Jessie? What’s going on?” Delia asked as panic and fear swelled up in her bosom. The next thing she knew, they were over the edge. Wind whipped through their hair, terror washed over Delia and tears poured down her face as she finally remembered her dream.
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         “Detective Bailey Fox, what do we got?” the detective flashed his credentials to be allowed on scene. His partner handed him a cup of coffee, “The victim is female, late twenties; name is Delia Fleming. She fell or got pushed from the roof of this building, we searched her apartment and there was no note but we did find drug. She most likely fell while under the influence, the drugs were probably what caused her to fall, but we won’t know anything for certain until we get the autopsy report back.” Fox took a sip of his coffee and shook his head.

         “What the hell is that?” He followed his partner’s gaze, above them a dark shape quickly drew closer. Realization hit Fox like a wall and he lunged at his partner knocking them both out of the way just in time. The object landed right where they had been standing with a loud Thud. Fox rolled over to see what it was and there laid a man’s body with limbs sticking out at odd angles.

“Make that two victims."