It 5:28AM, why is he calling me? Andrew’s name flashes across my screen, blinding me. I sit up and cross my legs and just stare at the phone for a moment, part of me doesn’t want to answer, it’s too early for a conversation with anyone really, but it’s Andrew, he never calls me for anything, it’s always a text or he waits until we see each other at school. As much as I want to just turn off my phone and roll back into my warm bed I pick up my phone and swipe to answer the call.

I’m expecting him to start going off about some advancement he’s made in his game or maybe a dream he had that he just had to tell me about immediately, I’m thinking it’ll be over with soon so I can go back to bed. “Hey, what do you want?” I groan. I know I sound rude but I’m tired, he has to hear it in my voice but ignoring the call would have made him spiral even if it is too early for either of us to be up.

I wait for him to say something, but he doesn’t. All I can hear is his breathing, shaky and shallow.

“Andrew? Can you hear me?” I speak again and he answers immediately.

“ALICE” he screams into the phone and I pull it away from my ear for a brief moment, then slowly, I put bring it back.

“Jesus Christ, Andrew. Don’t scream into my ear like that.” I snap, I have no idea what he wants but he could be calmer about it.

“Alice, where are you?” He asks, he sounds panicked.

“I’m at home. In bed. It’s 5 in the morning” I tell him bluntly.

“Are you hurt? Did they find you?” He questions me again, more demanding this time.

Am I hurt? What is he talking about? “Andrew what are you talking about, I’m fine.”

“You have to leave Alice, get out of there, come to me before they get there” he begs, and it sounds like he’s crying.

“Andrew breath. What are you talking about?” Is he still asleep? Maybe he’s having a nightmare like when we were kids and he would wander the house talking to walls with his eyes closed, once he pet the arm of the couch calling it a “good boy” while his dog slept on the floor two feet away. He started sleep walking after his mom died, he couldn’t be left alone when we were kids because of the stress it caused him, and now his dad is out of town so maybe he’s having some sort of mental breakdown? “Everything is okay, you’re okay I promise”

“Please Alice you have to get here quickly, they can’t take you. Please they can’t take you from me” he continues to beg, he’s hyperventilating and I don’t know what to do. My hands are shaking, I’m confused and he’s starting to scare me. Andrew, a boy I’ve known since kindergarten, who scares himself if he accidentally yells and who I’ve only seen cry a handful of times in the past 15 years, is now rambling on about how I’m in danger? This can’t be real right? Maybe I’m the one dreaming?

“Alice come to me please, come to my house. You’ll be safe I promise. Hurry their almost their.”

“Andrew stop, this isn’t funny” I cry out to him, but he doesn’t stop, he keeps telling me that I’m in danger, that I need to get out, he’s pleading with me to listen to him and I can’t tell if this is some sick joke or if someone is seriously coming for me.

“Please Alice, Please. Alice please come here. Alice you have to come here please” he doesn’t stop.

“Fine okay, I’m on my way Andrew, I’m coming over. I’ll be there in 10 minutes.” I give in, even if it is a joke I need him to stop this, and if it takes me going over to his house then whatever, he’ll get a good laugh out of it and then we can go on with the day.

“Don’t hang up!” He yells again, “stay on the phone until I know you’re safe”

“Okay I’m staying on the phone with you, don’t worry” I assure him, switch to speaker phone so I can throw my hair in a bun and put on some shoes. I won’t bother getting changed, I don’t really care if anyone sees me in shorts and a dirty shirt. I grab my keys and head for my car, he’s still pleading into the phone, whispering over and over that I need to get to him. And I tell him again and again that I’m on my way. I tell him that I’m in the car and that I’m driving, every turn I take I tell him the street I’m on and how long I’ll be.

Just when I’m about to turn onto his street he screams, “GET AWAY FROM ME, YOU CAN’T HAVE HER” and the line goes dead. My phone stays on the “call back” screen before it goes dark. He hung up, or his phone died. Who the hell was he talking to? I have no idea but I’m freaking out. My hands are shaking and my knuckles are white from squeezing the steering wheel.

I keep telling myself that he’s just joking around, or maybe he’s asleep and having some sort of vivid nightmare, but I’m still terrified, he’s never joked like this before, he feels bad for even startling me if he’s too quiet when coming up behind me. And he’s not a good enough actor to pull off something this elaborate, he can’t even lie without giggling. Something is seriously wrong with him and I’m scared to find out what it is, but still, I keep telling myself that it’s fine. I’m praying that I’m the one dreaming and this will all be over soon.

I pull into his driveway, all the lights are on and the door is wide open. I stumble out of my car, not bothering to close the door or even turn off the engine. I hear yelling before I even make it into the door, I rush upstairs following the commotion to his room, stopping in the door way when I see a man and a woman standing with their backs to me and their hands are out in front of them as Andrew stands there shaking and crying, holding a knife out ready to attack the two in front of him. Their his neighbors, I’ve seen them before, they’re still in their pajamas telling him to calm down and to put down the knife, they’re speaking so softly to him but their also afraid.

My legs feel so heavy, what am I looking at? Why is he threatening them? They aren’t trying to hurt him.

“Andrew” I choke out, the woman turns to me with tears welling up in her eyes.

“Alice, you’re here?” she asks, genuinely shocked to see me.

I nod slowly, my eyes so focused on Andrew, his eyes look hollow, like it isn’t even him controlling his body. “What’s wrong with him” I whisper.

“We don’t know, we heard him screaming and came to check. His dad asked us to keep an eye on him while he was gone but he was fine until tonight”

I step further into the room, slowly passing these two terrified adults. “Andrew what’s wrong?”

“get away,” he hisses, the knife swinging from left to right and I stumble back a bit. “You can’t have her”

“Andrew it’s me. Alice. You told me to come over, remember?”

“No you aren’t, you aren’t the real Alice.”

This isn’t him. “Yes Andrew. It is, it’s me. I promise you I’m real” I take another step, why? I have no idea, would he really hurt me? No, he wouldn’t, he would never actually hurt me. “What’s going on in your head, Andrew?”

I’ve never seen him act like this. But I _have_ seen his mother act similarly, before she died. She was schizophrenic, I think, and it was like she was a completely different person when she had bad episodes. We were only kids but I remember how she was always paranoid, she wouldn’t go near digital clocks and they had tape over the smoke detectors. I went to their house one day and walked in on her throwing pots, screaming at the wall to get away from her, an ambulance took her to the hospital after she started threatening her own life. Next time we saw her she was like a zombie, she barely spoke. And then she went away for awhile. A year later we were told she died. We were never told how. Is this the same thing? Is this why he’s been so foggy these past few months? Spacing out in class, just watching the corners? He kept asking me if I was whispering in his ear, I wasn’t, I assumed it was just the other people around us having hushed conversation. Did I miss something? Were those hints at something deeper? Should I have done something?

“You can’t have Alice” he says again, but I’m right here.

“Im right here, Andrew!” I yell at him, the tears flowing uncontrollably now. He swings at me again, harder this time, with striking intent. I trip over my feet and fall to the ground, the woman behind me screams, I don’t, look back but I can hear her slowly backing away, her husband hasn’t moved, his breath is still shaky, “are you okay kid?” His voice catches in his throat, I don’t respond.

All I can do is stare up at this person who, physically I recognize as my best friend, but he’s not in there, that’s not Andrew. I can’t stand up, he’s too close, if I move he’ll hurt me. He moves closer, the knife still pointing at me, our eyes still locked on each other.

“Andrew, wake up.” I beg, he doesn’t listen, he moves the knife closer to my neck.

The man is talking behind me, but I don’t hear him, I can’t focus on anything other than whoever stole my friend from me and replaced him with someone who wants me dead.

“SHUT UP” he screams at the man but keeps looking at me, spit hitting my face. He cries, like actual sobs as he holds the knife to my throat, “please don’t take her from me” he begs again.

I just look at him, his eyes so red, so dark. Those aren’t his eyes. “Can I have my Andrew back, please?” I whisper to him. Give my Andrew back, already.

“No, I’m going to protect her, you won’t hurt her” he tells me, fear in his voice this time.

I know Andrew wouldn’t hurt me, maybe I’m not Alice to him, but he won’t hurt me, I know it. I just know he won’t. “Don’t cry, Andrew. I know you’ll protect me, I trust you.”