Taylor's life had fallen into place: She was studious, committed, and responsible; happily married; and while university tenure track positions were increasingly more chimera than expectation, she was definitely in the best position possible. Her life had become focused and successful.
Karyn's had become a disheveled mess.
For a time, she had tried to move on. Eventually, she thought, she had moved past the departure of Jon from her life, and had thought hers was normal and healing. There had been a boy -- a sweet if over-brash boy -- named Alan who had always had a crush on her in the reality where she blossomed in perfect synch with Sarah. They had started slow, but by their freshman year in college, they were openly talking about what they'd do when they got married.
Then Taylor came on a college recruiting tour.
At first, after the brief encounter, Karyn hadn't thought much about Taylor or Jon or anything much from high school. It was only when the dreams started that she began to crumble.
The dreams were always awful, and they hit her every night. She slept so badly she couldn't remember more than than Jon was being tortured into Taylor in them. The phantasmagorical quality of dreams meant that the progression wasn't linear, the background blurred, the characters shadowy and shapeless.
Except one.
The torturer.
Karyn.
Karyn with her red hair turning golden, her smallish breasts blossoming out, Karyn right there for Karyn to see as the first Karyn broke their friend into that near-stranger of a young woman.
At first, she didn't think much of the dreams, figuring they'd pass. Then, she started taking over-the-counter sleep aids. Then the prescription kind. Sleep was at best a dreamless exercise in Oblivion. At worst, it was emotional torture.
Her relationship with Alan suffered as her mind did. She wept and snarled at him as her body rebelled against what was happening to it. Eventually, he gave up.
She tried dating again -- men and women, hoping something might change with the latter, too emotionally tired to feel more than an echo of guilt at what she did to those poor girls. Her relationships might last a single night or even a few months, but they always died.
She graduated from college and took a job as an insurance adjuster. It was monotonous, but it was work.
She slept. She drank. She occasionally screwed. She worked. She slept. She drank. She went herself to sleep. She worked. She slept...
Her life had become a thing that happened to her and she couldn't find a way to escape.
