Reborn, I Let My Sleepwalking Roommate Jump

Chapter 3

Simon's POV:

"Simon? What's wrong?" Mom said my name three times before I finally forced back a sob.

"Nothing. Could you come pick me up tomorrow after my presentation?"

"I thought you were staying with your roommates for a few more days."

"I'm not. I want to come home."

Dad's voice carried over the phone. "Sure! I'll drive over tomorrow and take you both out for steak while I'm there."

I closed my eyes and tried to say yes with a smile, but my eyes stung. "Okay. The three of us will have steak together."

After hanging up, I sat in the parking lot for a long time. I'd wanted to leave that same day, but my presentation materials and model were still in the dorm, and every hotel off campus had raised its rates for graduation weekend.

For the past three years, Derek had only sleepwalked once every few months. I clung to the hope that with only one night left, I could make it home safely as long as I stayed out of his business.

I spent the entire day at the library revising my presentation and backing up my files again. It was 11 p.m. by the time I got back with my laptop. Four paper cups sat on the desk. Three had a little liquid left in the bottom, and the fourth still had its lid on. Brady's computer was still on, his game frozen on the pause screen.

"I saved you some hot chocolate," Derek called from behind his bed curtain.

"I already had coffee."

"The cup with the lid is yours."

After the way things had gone that morning, I didn't want to owe him anything, so I left the hot chocolate untouched. I put my model and luggage beside the door and even set out the shoes I'd wear the next day. The moment my presentation ended, I would leave.

Around 1 a.m., the clash of metal jolted me awake.

Clang.

It came again, closer this time. Even my bed frame trembled. I peered through a gap in the curtain. Moonlight spilled across the floor, outlining someone in the aisle with a kitchen knife in his right hand.

The back of the blade scraped slowly along an iron ladder. The screech made the hair rise on my neck. Had someone broken in? There were no sounds of a struggle by the door, and nothing moved behind the curtains of the other three beds.

The figure approached my bed and lifted the curtain with one finger. I turned my face away and pretended to sleep, leaving my eyes open just enough to watch the knife.

It was Derek.

He wore gray pajamas, his eyelids drooping. The knife flashed in the moonlight. Muttering "watermelon" under his breath, he reached toward my pillow.

I had already shifted my head to the other side. His hand found only a balled-up sweatshirt. "This one's too small." He frowned and reached farther into the bed.

I quietly drew in my legs and curled against the wall. If he tried to climb up, I'd throw myself off the foot of the bed. Then Derek withdrew his hand and turned to Trent. He stopped beside Trent's bed, his voice much louder now. "This one's good. Nice and round. We'll cut it open and share it."

I gripped the edge of my bed, barely holding back a shout. I had to wake Trent, but what if I woke Derek too? His mother's voice from my past life echoed in my head. "You woke him. You're responsible."

I bit the tip of my tongue until the pain brought tears to my eyes. If I didn't shout, would Trent actually die?

Thud!

The point of the knife struck wood, and I nearly leaped from the bed. But Trent didn't cry out. I didn't even hear him turn over.

Derek pulled the knife free and tapped the bed frame. "Don't move. It won't look good if I cut it crooked."

I stopped. How could I be the only one awake after all that noise? The vibration of a phone was usually enough to make Brady curse. Derek was wandering around striking things with a knife, yet Brady hadn't made a sound.

Derek moved to Brady's bed, muttering that the watermelon's skin was too thick. He paused after every sentence, as if waiting for something.

He was waiting for me to call out and wake him.

Had he also pretended not to recognize anyone in my past life? When my father spooned food into his mouth and my mother signed bill after bill, Derek might have been lucid the entire time, simply refusing to speak. The thought made me clench my jaw with hatred.

"All cut up." The knife hit something with a dull knock, and my heart lurched again. Derek continued chanting, "This piece is for Simon. This piece is for Brady. This piece is for Trent." When he finished the list, he started over. He never finished dividing that imaginary watermelon, even after 10 full minutes. I didn't move.

At last, Derek stopped in the middle of the aisle and turned toward me. I couldn't see his expression through the curtain, but I could hear that his breathing had grown heavier.

Then the metal ladder creaked.

He was climbing into my bed.