
When she was only six, Caroline witnessed her mother being brutally murdered. Now, a 19 year old, she still suffers from flashbacks, what she calls "visions" of that night. When she starts to have flashbacks of the man who murdered her mom, it throws her over the edge. Her life is forever changing, but how much of it does she have left?
Rated: Fiction T - English - Crime/Suspense - Chapters: 5 - Words: 3,484 - Reviews: 1 - Updated: 11-29-12 - Published: 11-18-12 - Status: Complete - id: 3075493
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I had a nightmare. I was dying slowly, my blood gurgling up out of my mouth like a fountain, pouring out of my ears. I used my hands to cover my ears to stop the leak. I shut my mouth to make the blood stop pouring out, but my mouth filled. I woke up screaming and sweaty.
Water poors over me, hot and comfortable. I am escaping the nightmares behind my eyes. I close my eyes and let water run over my face, washing my hair back behind me. I wonder about life and my hopes for the future. I feel almost safe, with this warmth over me. Almost content. I feel the warm water on my face. It tastes salty sweet.
What?
I open my eyes and see red liquid everywhere. The nozzle is spraying me with blood.
Screaming, I fall against the back of the shower, my head bouncing. I can taste it in my mouth, the sickly sweetness. The warm stickiness on my skin. I fall against the shower curtain and crash to the tile floor, dripping with blood. It's all over everything. I look at my hands; they are red. I shake as my hair drips with blood. My arms and legs are shaking. I cannot control them. I am vibrating. Out of the corner of my eye, I see something move. There is a man. It is him.
I feel dizzy, to the point of passing out.
"No, no, no. Go away." I beg pathetically, shaking and sobbing... dripping with blood.
He takes a step towards me and I swing my hands out in front of me, hitting at air. I feel his hands around my neck. I am choking, choking, choking. Then stop. I look and he is gone. I gulp down air, filling my lungs. Covering my face with shaking hands, I cry. Why is my past following me? I shake with sobs, the blood turning to water on my skin.
"He's not real, he's not real." I repeat over and over until the words jumble into meaningless sounds. I sit on the floor, drops running down my face. What if he is real? He's real to me, in my head. So doesn't that mean he's real?
I look at my body realistically, like never before, and see bones, thin paper pulled over popsicle sticks. I stand up, shaking, and wrap a towel around myself. I wipe my face with a shaking hand. It is shaking so hard I can hardly hold the towel up. I walk to my bedroom, put on a T-shirt, and lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. I will not tell Damien about this. I feel I'm slowly losing my mind. Such a strange feeling.
I am dreaming. Things in my head. Shadows dancing to a soft hum. I hear a car beeping on the road outside my window, and I am pulled into another day, one I'm not quite ready for. Sun beams in through my blinds and I can see the orange through my eyelids. I peep out from beneath long lashes. There is a face beside me.
No! Why won't he leave me alone?! A small squeal escapes my mouth as I scramble to get away. My feet tangle in the sheets and he stands up and creeps over to me. I am paralyzed, dead weight. I blink over and over again, but he refuses to disappear. I gain my brain back, and leap up. I run out of the room into the bathroom. Panting, I lock the door and slide down to the floor. My life has become a nightmare, someone else's nightmare. I couldn't have dreamed this up in a million years.
I cover my ears as he pounds on the door. I scream, unable to cry anymore. My tear-ducts are empty. The pounding stops. I sit there, waiting. For thirty minutes, I wait. Shallow breathes escape my lips as I silently unlocked the door. I peek out. He is gone.
I cry, screaming and punching the wall. I am insane. My head is full of rage and fear. My knuckles are bleeding, but I just keep punching the wall.
"No, I will not let you into my life!" I scream at nothing. "You killed her! You!"
I punch faster and faster. The skin is peeling back and shards of sheetrock splinter my fist. Sitting down, I drift into the callous of my mind and suck on my fist.
"Caroline, you need help." I see Damien standing by the door, wide-eyed and shocked.
"Why? I'm perfectly fine." I am.
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