In an unnamed town Conner Lewis has nightly dreams of an unnamed woman. The dreams differ between the woman standing in the corner of the room, standing at the foot of the bed, or next to it, always watching never saying anything. When a break in Connor’s routine happens, it triggers a domino effect that no one expects, and Connor is not ready to face it.

Here comes the fun part: You, the reader, get to decide where the story goes.

Where The Sun Doesn’t Reach Part 1

By the time the dream starts, Connor already knows what awaits him when he’s settled.

He’s in bed. The walls now a cream colour and the sheet under him a pale yellow with white dots. The room itself isn’t anything outstanding. A messy desk facing the ceiling-to-floor window, an open-door closet, and black-out curtains left slightly ajar. He has a bird-eyes-view of everything that’s happening, an out-of-body experience so to speak. It would almost be disconcerting if he wasn’t used to it.

It’s dark and even if he doesn’t turn to look, he knows that the clock on the nightstand next to the bed displays 5:37 AM. It always happens around the same time either way .

He can sense her. Even if he can’t turn to look at her directly, he knows exactly where she is.

She is right next to the bed. He could almost feel her staring. Staring, staring, staring , and doing nothing else… not yet. Her long dark hair frames her face in waves and her blank stare feels as if she knows the deepest parts of him with those hazel eyes . After what feels like what could have been either minutes or hours, he hears her breath pick up in excitement, the only other change is accompanied by her wide delightful grin. Like a slash of a knife across her face.

Her breath is now close enough to be felt on the hairs on his leg, he feels her finger gently touch his ankle . She starts stroking the thin skin. She slowly, as if she has all the time in the world, trails her finger higher and higher. As if each centimetre of skin she touched deserved the same amount of attention as the one before.

Her finger now caresses the skin where his thigh disappears under his shorts. Little circles are drawn, her finger getting more daring as it slips higher and higher after each circle. This goes on long enough until she appears satisfied. He feels the presence of that finger ghosting over his shorts, over his left thigh, over his torso then gently touching the skin of his collarbones and trailing to his cheek. She brings that finger to her mouth to suck on it. As if she wanted to make sure the taste of his skin lingered on her tongue. She places her now wet finger on his lip in a mocking, disturbing parody of an indirect kiss.

With her routine over and done with, the smile slides off her face. Her eyes return to their blank state, and she slowly crawls under the bed, where Connor knows she’ll continue to watch him when he wakes up and gets out of bed. By then he won't know she’s been here again, even though she was never supposed to be here.

After all, even in his dream Connor Lewis is aware enough to remember he lives alone.

The shrill ring of the alarm cuts through Connor’s unrestful sleep signaling that it’s time to wake up and begin the day again.

The images of her don’t fade away. They never do, he can picture everything about her perfectly.

He rolls over in bed, his red sheets now feeling alien to him. He knows that he has to wake up, but peeling his eyes open feels impossible. The crust collected on his eyelashes seem to fight his efforts to finally open them. Exhaustion isn’t a new feeling. At this point, Connor is used to feeling like there aren’t enough hours in a day to rest. As if the nights are cut short abruptly and tiredness seems to sink into his bones, and he can't let go of it.

The second earsplitting shriek of the alarm finally makes Connor open his eyes. Unlike the room in his dreams, his usual gray walls in the almost barren space once again greet him. Forcing himself to sit up, he throws his legs over the side of the bed, feet connecting to the floor.

He lets out a sigh as he runs a hand through his curly blond hair, fingers almost getting stuck in the knots his hair gained during the last few hours.

Digging his palms into his eyes to rub away the crusty feeling and wake himself up even more, he gathers himself and goes to take a morning shower. Connor stumbles to the window to take a look outside, drawing the black curtains aside to take a peek. The darkness of early morning is only being broken by the yellow-tinted glow of the streetlights. Most of the neighbors’ windows have their curtains drawn closed, except those few who have the misfortune of being early shift workers on a Monday.

Connor lets out a yawn and stretches, his back giving an audible crack as if his body is emphasizing its disagreement for being awake this early.

A hot shower will take away the feeling and get him ready to start his day. Today is going to be a good day, he could just feel it in his bones. Back cracking noises not withstanding of course . Stepping away from the window he trudges toward his bed.

He turns to the alarm on his nightstand, the time 4:15 AM flashing on the screen , the only light in his room. A final sigh and Connor shuffles to the bathroom. It was time to make sure he would be spotless.

‘CLOSED’

The sign on the door of the coffee shop is taunting him. The loud noises of the construction crew working in what was supposed to be his daily stopping point seems to pierce through his ears like a whistle, but it doesn’t drown out the sudden rise of frustration Conner feels . His routine is ruined, and he can't start his job without his sugary and overcaffeinated drink. His thought of having a good day today suddenly feels like a challenge to the universe, and the odds were not in his favour .

He vaguely remembers the cashier telling him something about this week but honestly, he can’t be bothered to remember anything about this place besides the location and his everyday order. It was never important to pay attention to the people who worked there or what they said, they kept repeating the same thing over and over again anyway, well, until last Friday, probably. He vaguely remembers the cashier saying something about today.

Conner reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone, the screen displaying 07:48 AM letting him know he still has enough time to quickly go get his fix somewhere else. He lets out a heartfelt sigh. What an inconvenience honestly. If he wasn’t so picky anywhere would do, but coffee was one of the only things he splurged on in life, and damn if he wasn’t going to settle for anything else.

A quick Google search reveales a café called The Bean Place, which is 20 minutes away that seems to be up to his standards. He expertly choses to ignore the feeling of unease that seems to rise when he sees the name. It was the only one that looks worth it according to their menu and the reviews people left on their website. Luckily enough the bus stop is in sight with a few minutes to spare before the bus arrives.

The bus ride was somewhat comfortable. Even if he hated breaking his daily routine, this tiny deviation wouldn’t matter in the long run. Scrolling through the pictures on his phone gives him something to do while the bus took him to his destination. These pictures always fill him with such feelings of elation, however the guilt that accompanies it is never far behind. But that’s okay, Connor has always been a master multitasker. The gain was worth everything.

Taking his gaze off his phone when his stop gets announced by the speakers on the bus, Connor presses the stop button. The walk to the café takes about nine minutes and by this point, it doesn’t bother Connor. While walking Connor makes sure to look around the area and take in everything. In case the coffee was good enough to come back for.

The Bean Place is a one-story green building with red brick that shows through the cracks in the corner with the sign in pink cursive. It’s hideous. Connor’s already half in love.

The windows are tinted enough that he sees that there aren’t a lot of people in the shop, but he can’t really make out the faces. That’s even better. Too many people in a small space makes him anxious. Today is turning out alright anyway, the only thing missing was the coffee. Take that universe.

Connor walks through the door, and the bell rings, announcing his arrival. The cashier looks up at him and smiles “Good morning, sir, welcome to The Bean Place”. Their red hair shines like fire under the yellow light. Conner eagerly steps closer to the counter. Only two people are waiting in line. That’s fine, that gives him more time to look at the menu on the blackboards hanging up close to the ceiling.

The women before him appear to be regulars with how fast they ordered and got shuffled further across the bar where the barista is making the drinks. The big coffee machine conceals the barista’s face and Connor can’t tell anything about her except that she has long dark hair. It doesn’t matter right now, it is finally his turn. “Yes sir, what can I get you?” the cashier asks as he looks into Conner’s eyes smiling. Connor makes a point to look contemplatively at the menu for a few seconds before ordering what he always does; “A blond roast macchiato, with soymilk and one pump of vanilla and two pumps of caramel.” Connor looks down to make eye contact with the cashier, “Large too, thanks”.

The ring of the bell as the two women get their drinks and leave goes unnoticed by Conner until the cashier remarks, “Goodbye, have a nice day.”

The cashier’s smile never leaves his lips, but there is a small twitch on the corner of his mouth, “Of course, sir, you can just wait at the end of the counter for your drink.” Connor lets out a hum and moves towards the end of the counter.

As Connor gets closer to the end of the counter the hair on nape stands up, and a shiver runs across his suddenly felt sweaty neck . “Here you go, sir.” The barista turns to face him. It all seems to play out in slow motion. The same hair, the same round hazel eyes, and smile. The same figure that was either under his bed or standing in the corner of his room some nights staring at him, but this time not in his dream.

It is her.

End Part 1...