Author: AisonX PM
If during the day it was bad, then at night it was hell. Because he was stuck, and he couldn't escape.Rated: Fiction T - English - Angst/Horror - Words: 418 - Published: 07-29-12 - Status: Complete - id: 3045855
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Okay, this is a VERY short piece written in around five to ten minutes. It just popped at me. I couldn't resist writing it.
If during the day it was bad, then at night it was hell.
First it was the nightmares. The torment that always ended up with him twisted in the sheets, sweat making his shirt stick onto his back. The heavy breathing that always seemed to be right by his ear even when he knew that there was nothing next to him, nothing plotting to hurt him. He had left it all back at the last dimension, and he was leaving his past behind him. That was that.
If only it was as easy as it sounded.
The thing with fear, is that the more you think about it, the more it grows. And he couldn't stop thinking about it. The red, glowing eyes. The rotting hands that reached for him. It was all still there, still very much real. Still hunting for him, even though he should be safe.
He was safe. His mind just couldn't process that.
His mother thought he was crazy. That his ramblings were just insane mutters, left over from the coma that she believed was induced by the car-crash. That nothing he talked about, not the monsters or the faceless creatures that haunted him in his dreams, were real. He was sent to psychiatrist after psychiatrist, and they all told him to relax and go to sleep.
They didn't understand. It was when he was relaxed and asleep that it was the worst. When he was relaxed, they crept up on him so that when he opened his eyes, they were all he saw. The gruesome, dripping arms. Hands. Faces.
He'd woke up screaming during the night. Breathing hard, his panic overwhelming him. Swallowing the pills the doctors gave him, even though he knew they didn't work. Anything to get away from it all. To escape.
Hell, he would've used drugs if there were any in the house. And this was coming from a straight A student, nicknamed 'teacher's pet'.
But that was before the crash. Before the coma, before the dimension.
It's silly to think how much his grades mattered to him before. How much he valued his a hundred percents.
No, now was a matter of life and death. Education no longer was the priority.
Because he was haunted. He was stuck there, forever.