The Society of Imaginary Friends

It was a flash of dark red hair that yanked Valerie out of her daydream and had her on her feet in seconds. Before the realization of what it meant reached her consciousness, she was already out the front door and halfway to the pickup truck.

“Daniel, no!” she yelled.

It was too late. Her ten-year-old foster brother had pulled the truck out of park, and it was sliding backward down the driveway. Sitting next to him, her blood-red hair ghoulish against her pale skin, was Sanguina.

“Now put your foot on the pedal on the left,” Sanguina coached Daniel, flashing Valerie a knowing grin.

Valerie’s peripheral vision registered a blue van barreling down the street right before she wrenched open the passenger-side door to the truck and jumped inside. Sanguina had already vanished. She hit the emergency brake a second before the truck reached the road, but not before hitting the mailbox at the end of the driveway.

“Hey! Whatcha doing?” Daniel asked indignantly. “You messed me up.”

“Sorry, buddy,” she said, relief coursing through her body. This time, she’d been fast enough to prevent something awful from happening. “But you know you can’t be in here.”

“There was a grown up! That lady was helping me.” Daniel leaned forward, looking past her, but there was no one else in the cab of the truck. “Where’d she go?”

Valerie had no idea where Sanguina went, or where she ever came from, for that matter. She only knew that no matter how fast or how far she ran, Sanguina always eventually found her and tried to make her life hell. Last time, she’d found Valerie living beneath an overpass off the exit of a highway and had provoked a drug dealer into trying to shoot her. The time before that, she’d goaded a school bully into beating up a little freshman right in front of Valerie. That time, she hadn’t been fast enough to help him, and the boy wound up in a coma.

Sanguina was Valerie’s very own personal tormentor, one she couldn’t run from, and what her doctors considered proof that Valerie was certifiably crazy. Because she couldn’t be real.

“Uh oh,” Daniel’s voice suddenly sounded very young and scared.

The front door swung open, and the biological son of the couple she and Daniel were living with stormed outside. Adam, twenty-one, only did three things, as far as Valerie could tell: work out relentlessly, steal from his mother’s purse, and take out his bottled-up aggression on the two foster kids living in his house—when his parents weren’t around.

“Duck,” she commanded Daniel, and scrambled over the boy to get behind the wheel, shoving him to the passenger side. “I’ll handle this.”

Adam’s eyes narrowed as he barreled toward his truck. He jerked the driver-side door open and grabbed her arm, throwing her to the pavement. She winced when her elbow and knee hit the concrete, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of making any sign that she was in pain. She knew his type, and seeing her scared was exactly the thrill he was hoping for.

While she was down, he kicked her in the gut. She jumped to her feet before he got a second shot in.

Her first instinct was to fight back. He’d be in for a surprise, because she’d fought bigger, tougher men than this bully, but she stopped herself, remembering Mrs. Sims’ warning that morning.

“I won’t tolerate any fighting now, hear? Not if you want to stay in my house,” she had said gruffly.

Valerie had given her a small nod, keeping the polite smile she had been wearing for the past two weeks pasted on her face. This was the first time she’d had a real bed and three meals a day since she’d been in the hospital two years ago, and she didn’t want to mess things up. She’d just take a few hits from Adam and keep her mouth shut.

“You’re dead,” he said, a smile of grim satisfaction on his face. He’d probably explain her bruises to his parents as being the result of her careless accident.

“It was a mistake. Take it easy,” she said, automatically slipping into a defensive pose, her arms a little raised in front of her, and her feet anchored firmly beneath her.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Daniel sliding out of the truck, probably ready to come to her defense. He was a sweet kid, and the idea of him getting in the middle of this terrified her more than anything else. She tried to subtly nod her head to the side, indicating that he should run, but Adam saw her movement and turned.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” he growled. “I saw you get out of my truck. You’re both gonna pay.”

“He’s not a part of this. It’s my fault,” she said. But she’d never been a good liar—probably a big part of the reason why she hadn’t lasted long on the streets.

“It was him who drove my truck, wasn’t it?” Adam said, turning his rage on Daniel.

Daniel’s face was white, but he stood his ground. Valerie protectively stepped in front of him, but Adam shoved her aside. Whenever she found herself in these situations, instinct always took over. Valerie had learned not to think and to just let her movements flow naturally.

She felt as if she was watching from a place deep inside of herself as Adam’s fist came hurtling through the air toward Daniel’s head. Valerie caught Adam’s arm mid-punch, stopping it before it reached its target. Surprise registered on his face before she followed up with a blow aimed at his chest. Her fist connected, and he was thrown back so violently that it looked like he’d been hit by an invisible bus. He crashed into the side of the truck.

“How did you do that?” Daniel whispered.

Adam groaned, stunned. Valerie herself had no idea where her strength came from, but she assumed that it was adrenaline, like mothers who lifted cars when their children were trapped beneath.

She grabbed Daniel’s hand and pulled him toward the house. Once inside, she locked the doors and even checked that the windows were latched shut. Adam would be coming after them, and he’d be mad. She had to stall him until Mrs. Sims made it home.

“In here,” she said, pulling Daniel into a bathroom on the ground floor. Inside, she locked that door as well. “No matter what happens, don’t leave until Mr. or Mrs. Sims get home.”

As always, her strength evaporated rapidly now that the immediate threat was gone. She leaned against the wall for support, sliding down toward the floor. Expending all that energy took a toll, and Valerie knew it would be a week before she felt normal again.

“You okay?” Daniel asked, his face blurry. “You don’t look so good.”

“I’m fine,” she replied, managing a small smile.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “So, so sorry.”

Valerie had trouble focusing on his words. She was always weak after a fight, but this was more than physical exhaustion. She was being pulled into a tidal pool of blackness. This, too, she was familiar with, and she fought the tug with every ounce of her strength.

She knew that in the darkness, sucking at her consciousness, were terrors greater than anything she experienced awake. But her struggle was useless. Her knees finally gave way, and she fell forward, crashing into the ground. The last thing she remembered was the cool floor against her cheek before the darkness wrenched her under.

Part of Valerie knew that she was unconscious, and that her body was somewhere on the bathroom floor. But the scene before her eyes was so real that it was hard to remember this couldn’t be anything more than a terrible nightmare.

She was in a strange bedroom, kneeling on a small wooden bed, clutching her sheets with sweaty hands. Her heart beat fast and adrenaline chased through her veins, amplifying her eyesight and hearing.

In the corner of the room, the shadows began to move. Out of the darkness, Sanguina crept toward her. She was gaunt, and in the silvery light, Valerie could make out a network of purplish-blue veins throbbing beneath her translucent skin. Her eyes were a bottomless well of darkness, filled with cold hate.

Sanguina was much more terrifying in this shadow world than she was in reality. How had her tormentor traveled so fast, one minute in the pickup truck and the next in this strange bedroom? It was as if she wasn’t content torturing Valerie when she was awake; she had to visit her nightmares as well.

No matter how many times Valerie saw her, or how often she told herself when she awoke that Sanguina was only a figment of her imagination, she was always frozen by the fear inside her. “She’s not real. This is a dream. She can’t hurt me,” Valerie chanted softly, trying to convince herself that her words were true.

“Give it to me. You know what will happen if you don’t,” Sanguina said in a low, toneless voice that made Valerie’s skin crawl.

“Or maybe you want me to visit your family again?” a deep voice growled nearby. A tall, lanky man with yellow eyes was watching her as well. It wasn’t the first time she had seen him, but she didn’t know his name.

They didn’t always appear together, but when they did, it meant they wanted something. Something Valerie knew she shouldn’t give them. But she always gave in—anything so long as they’d leave her alone. Why was she always so much more afraid, so much weaker, facing these two in a dream than she was in real life?

“Please, go away,” Valerie begged.

“We’re never leaving. Get used to it,” Sanguina rasped in her ear, suddenly so close that Valerie was forced to stare directly into her black eyes. It was like staring into a void. A scream built in her lungs, and she squeezed her eyes shut to escape the emptiness of those eyes.

Some time later, Valerie peeked through her lashes. Her heart was ricocheting around in her rib cage, and she could still taste the echoes of her last scream. Sanguina’s hollow eyes were gone, and instead she saw the little window next to her cot in the room she shared with Daniel.

She opened her eyes wider and saw a familiar, beloved face close to her own. This was another one of her hallucinations, like Sanguina or Yellow-Eyes, except that this one comforted her.

“Cyrus? What…how?” Valerie whispered.

But Cyrus only glowed for a second and then faded away. She blinked, but he didn’t reappear. Fully awake now, she was kneeling on her bed, clutching her sheets in her hands as she had been during her unconscious vision with Sanguina. She was so weak, completely drained—physically and emotionally—by what she had experienced.

It was a different kind of fatigue than what she experienced after the fight. Then, she had been exhausted, but she would have been able to make it through the day. Now she knew the next time she closed her eyes she might not be able to open them again.

She let herself collapse back on her bed. The leftover fear from her dream receded, but it was replaced by a gnawing anxiety about what had happened to her and how she had gotten here. She saw her reflection in the bedside mirror and groaned. Her waist-length brown hair was a sweaty, tangled mess, and her usually warm brown skin had a yellow tinge.

The door cracked open, and Daniel peeked in. He thrust a peanut butter and jelly sandwich into her hand.

“Hide it, quick! She’s coming.”

Valerie shoved the sandwich under her pillow and gave Daniel a reassuring wink. “Don’t worry, little man. It’s all gonna be okay.”

He left, and a minute later, Mrs. Sims came through the door. She was a tall, imposing woman who rarely smiled. Valerie suspected that housing foster children was simply a way to make some extra money, because she clearly didn’t like children. Still, she wasn’t a bully, like her son, so Valerie couldn’t complain. Even considering Adam, this house wasn’t close to the worst of the places she’d lived. She hoped she’d be able to stay.

“Adam told me you wrecked his truck,” Mrs. Sims said accusingly. She stood over Valerie with her arms crossed.

“I apologize, ma’am. I was curious to see how it worked, and it got away from me.”

“That’s a lie. You were going for a joyride before Adam stopped you. I know your type. And then you hit him? That was a coward’s choice. Adam would never hit a girl back.”

Arguing would only make things worse, Valerie knew from experience. “I accept whatever punishment you have for me.”

“It’s too late for any of that. You and Daniel are more trouble than you’re worth. As soon as I can arrange it, you’re both out of here.”

“Daniel wasn’t involved—” Valerie started to say, but Mrs. Sims cut her off with a shake of her head.

“I won’t listen to any of your nonsense. And if there’s any more trouble from either of you, you’ll go without your meals. We’ll start tonight. Perhaps an empty stomach will remind you to be grateful for the generosity of those who take you in.”

Valerie nodded, and Mrs. Sims left. Maybe it was for the best that Daniel was leaving, too. Without her to protect him, Adam could really do some damage. She hoped that he would go to a nice couple with no kids. Or better yet, maybe he would be adopted. It was better to think that way, since there’d be no way to ever see him again.

Still, anxiety for her future made her stomach hurt, and forcing down the sandwich made her want to choke. What if her next foster family was like the one she’d had two years ago, and they locked her up in a closet? Or it could be another situation where she had to lie awake at night, guarding herself against any midnight attacks from other foster kids in the house. She’d have to go back to the streets again, which she hated.

Her breathing became shallow, as if she were breathing through a tiny straw. Her heart pounded so hard in her chest that she thought it would explode. She didn’t normally give in to her fears like this, but she was already so weak. Daniel tiptoed into the room and saw her gasping for air.

“Mrs. Sims! Help! Valerie’s dying!” he cried.

Then she collapsed on her pillow, back into sweet unconsciousness.