The words rang out loud and clear through the car's speakers, eliciting an eyeroll from Iris in the front seat. Her eyes scanned the dashboard in front of her, cluttered with plastic wrappers and crushed Monster cans and she cringed, jabbing herself in the ribs with her elbows in an attempt to take up as little space as possible. She brought her knees up to her chest and hugged them, forcing the seatbelt to push further into her stomach. The driver; a pencil thin, big headed goof with thick rimmed glasses dripping with irony and a perpetual neutral expression plastered on his stubbled face turned to look at his passenger before shaking his head and returning his eyes to the road ahead. Iris pulled her eyes away from the dashboard to look down at the crumb-dotted carpet under her seat with fascination. As much fascination as she could muster with her eyelids feeling heavy and drooping, that is.

A trinity of sleepless nights had plagued her, and each time her eyes fell shut they were that much harder to open again. Each blink was a battle, and the lull of the trip was the battleground on which her war to stay awake raged. The roof of her mouth tasted odd, she thought as she ran her tongue across it for the hundredth time in the past five minutes. Her hands felt cold on the flesh of her bare shins, which jolted her awake just a little bit though nowhere near enough to keep her up and as she swallowed another mouthful of saliva she wished she had the foresight to have brought a bottle of water with her on this trip. Her throat was drier than a desert and it didn't matter how much spit she choked down, it wasn't dampening.

"What's wrong?" the driver asked, not bothering to take his eyes off the road. Iris looked up from the ground at him, opening her mouth slightly as she thought of a response.

"Nothing," she said after a pause, smiling at him. "Really. I'm fine."

"Somehow, I don't believe that."

"Well, it's the truth Mark. I'm completely, perfectly..." her voice trailed off and her eyes fell shut once more. Her head slid off her shoulder and fell towards the arm rest and jolted her awake. "Fine! Just a little tired is all."

She tried to force out a laugh, but Mark wasn't buying any of it.

"Christ's sake, Iris. You're sure this is a good idea?"

"Think what's a good idea?"

Mark rolled his eyes and shot a quick glance over to his passenger, who didn't appear to be laughing or joking in any way. No, instead she appeared genuinely confused, which prompted a frustrated groan from Mark as he slammed his hands on the steering wheel. An action that caused Iris to jump and clench her knees tighter to her chest.

"Unbe-fucking-lieveable."

"Totally uncalled for, baby brother."

"Did you seriously forget why we're driving to the airport?"

"Maybe."

"Did you remember your passport, at least?"

"Of course! I'm not an idiot."

"Sometimes I really wonder."

"Rude!"

"Couldn't mom have driven you? She can actually deal with you."

"She wanted us to have some bonding time before I leave to that place to do whatever it is I'm doing."

"Sweden to be a wrestler."

"Yeah, that."

"Well, look at how well we're bonding now!"

"You know, we could if you weren't so cynical about it."

"Just, shut up. Please for the love of God Iris, shut the fuck up."

"For the record, you started this conversation."

He didn't respond. Iris turned away from him and leaned against the car door, resting her head against the window. That would be something she wasn't going to miss, the anger of her younger brother. They may have only been a couple years apart but since he was old enough to speak, he wouldn't ever shy away from letting her know just how he felt about her which was never very positive. He was a ticking timebomb of hatred and anger, just waiting to be provoked and when he was, he exploded. Every single time. It didn't even matter what they talked about because it always ended the same way. With Iris feeling, this. This ball in her stomach. A nagging pain in her chest and tears welling up in her eyes. She had given up trying to talk to him months ago, but having him completely out of her life, even if it was only for a short while, was enough to make her enthused for her trip to Sweden.

She wiped a tear from her eye and smeared it on her shirt before shooting a glare at the side of Mark's head. A scowl dotted his lips, something that made her smile. There was only one person she could stand seeing unhappy, and he was right now. It was enough to make her forget about crying. She loosened her grasp on her legs and kicked them forward, putting them on the ground once more and kept her eyes fixed on Mark's face. She was certain that he could feel her glare, as his expression soured further by the second. However, his anger couldn't cure one thing, and that thing grabbed a tight hold over her suddenly.

Sleep. Her eyes fell shut once more. And it would be a while before they opened once more.

---

I wake up from the horrible nightmare of being in a car with my brother to find myself laying in a field. Grass rubs against my skin and the wind pushes strands of hair from my face in whatever direction it wants and I feel, at peace. It's kind of a cliche thing, but I do. I feel perfectly serene and at peace with everything around me. The sun shines down, bright and warm and no bugs are crawling on me and everything is just right. I sit up and brush the grass off me, rubbing my eyes to wipe away any last traces of sleep. With a yawn, I grab at a patch of grass and yank it out of the ground.

Looking down at the grass, I see it's brown. A deep, dead brown. With eyes wide in shock I toss it and let it scatter in the wind before looking down at the ground and seeing everything; all the grass doing the same. Becoming brown and dead, just like that. The blades shrivel up and collapse on themselves, popping out of the ground and flying off, pushed away by the ever strengthening gusts of wind. The same wind strikes me hard all over, hitting from every direction at once and chilling my body down to the bone. I start to shiver and curl up into a little ball, hoping to retain what little heat I could. The sky begins to darken, not black but a very, very deep red.

It starts slowly, but ever surely. Ever and ever surely. Blue becomes red, corrupted and bleeding and the clouds turn pitch black, raining down warm, red drops of rain. It hits me with the force of hail and splats all over my skin, staining it crimson. I should be squirming but it's warm where everything else isn't. So I lay back down and close my eyes, cringing on the inside as each drop strikes me.

And then I hear the voice. Unmistakable.

Mark.

I don't dare open my eyes but I know he's here, hovering over me like always. It's never what he says just the way he says it. So intense and full of anger and malice that I feel the contents of my stomach push up into the back of my throat and I gag. Swallowing hard, I press my hands to my ears and shake my head rapidly, furiously. Despite that, I can hear his voice clearly, perfectly.

"Iris!"

And then, I feel something slapping me in the face.

And then, my eyes open. I'm back in the car. Somehow, I'd rather be in the blood storm. Mark's standing over me, a smile breaking through his otherwise angry demeanor.

"We're here."

I brush imaginary dirt off my clothes and straighten myself out.

"So we are."