Don't Stay Up Late Read Online Free

I finally was released and sitting in the backseat of an unfamiliar car with Mom at the wheel, everything appeared too bright. I kept my head down, waiting for my eyes to adjust. But they refused, and everything I saw had a blinding glare around it.
    â€œMom, how can you drive with one hand?” My voice was hoarse, I guess because I hadn’t used it much. I rubbed my right wrist. It ached from where the tube had been inserted. I had a round blue bruise there.
    She didn’t answer.
    I shielded my eyes with one hand. The sunlight was just too bright for me. I wondered if sunglasses would help. We pulled out of the hospital parking lot and a few seconds later were speeding through the narrow streets of the Old Village.
    I should have felt happy. Freedom at last! I was going home. But it was like happy feelings took too much energy. I slumped against the seatback. I felt numb. You know when your foot falls asleep? That’s how my whole self felt.
    â€œMom, are you okay?”
    Still shielding my eyes, I peered out the windshield—and let out a sharp cry as I saw the big, white dog slowly crossing the street. “Mom—stop! Stop the car! Look—it’s Morty.”
    The car didn’t slow down. Mom swerved the wheel to the left.
    â€œNo—Mom! You’re going to hit him! Mom—stop! Please! ”
    She jammed her foot on the gas. The car roared forward. I saw the oncoming car. A dark blue SUV with a chrome grille that looked like animal teeth. I heard its horn blare like a siren.
    And then the crash tossed me hard against the back of the front seat.
    Oh, no! Nooooo! Not again!
    I bounced back against my seat. I saw Mom’s head hit the steering wheel. It didn’t bounce up. It stayed down on the wheel, her arms limp at her sides.
    A gusher of blood from Mom’s head splashed onto the windshield. The windshield was quickly splattered bright red.
    Not again. Not again.
    The car began moving again. Slumped over the wheel, Mom didn’t budge. But the car began roaring forward. I couldn’t see out, couldn’t see through the covering of darkening blood over the windshield.
    I reached over the seat and grabbed Mom by the shoulders and shook her, shook her hard. “Wake up! Please! Stop the car! You’ve got to stop the car.”
    And then her head slowly turned to me. And I saw that it wasn’t Mom. It was my dad, smiling so sweetly at me, Dad with his head split wide open, smiling at me from beyond the grave.

 
    7.
    I felt a hard tug and opened my eyes to find Mom shaking me by the shoulders. “Wake up, Lisa. Come on. Wake up.” Her voice was a tense whisper.
    I saw the curtains blowing at my bedroom window. Darkness behind them. Still night.
    I blinked several times, trying to force away the sight of my dad’s split head.
    â€œAnother nightmare,” Mom said, shaking her head. Her blonde hair was matted against one side of her face. She straightened her long nightshirt. Her hands stayed on my shoulders, soothing them now.
    I tried to say something, but my throat was still clogged with sleep.
    Mom clicked on the blue lamp on my bedside table. I turned away from the sudden bright light. “You’ve been home a week, and you’re still having the nightmares,” she said. “When do you see your doctor next?”
    â€œDr. Shein? Not sure,” I managed to whisper. I ran both hands back through my hair. My skin was damp from perspiration. “The same nightmare,” I told her. “I was in the car, and I saw Dad again.”
    Mom sighed. In the harsh light from my lamp, she suddenly looked a lot older. “Dr. Shein says it will take time, Lisa.”
    â€œBut I’m not getting better, Mom. I keep seeing Dad and Morty everywhere.” I pulled myself to a sitting position. My sheets were damp, too, from sweat. I shuddered. “Nightmares and hallucinations. I’m a total crazy person.”
    â€œYou know