Haunted

Chapter 03: Distress

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He wants to disappear.

That's the only way he can describe what it feels like every breath is torture like being held underwater and suffocated by an endless weight pressing into his chest. He's drowning; it doesn't matter if he doesn't breathe. The pain is enough to make him beg for air.

As the weight of his body grows heavier and heavier against the hard floor, he can feel himself begin to slip from reality. It starts with the sound of noise above him, then a sudden chill across his neck, a strange tingling on his face that makes him shudder. He can hear voices, but they seem far away, and the ringing in his ears has grown to deafening levels. His vision is blurred, his thoughts muddled, and even the pounding of his heart seems muffled, drowned out by the constant, persistent ringing. He can barely see, let alone move.

(What is going on? Why does everything hurt so much? Why does he feel so cold?)

His limbs are heavy, his lungs burn, and the weight of the unknown pressure presses down on him, dragging him deeper and deeper. The surface is a distant, unreachable shimmer of light. He thrashes, but his movements are slow and weak, like moving through syrup. The cold seeps into his bones, numbing him, and he can feel the life draining out of him with each passing second.

The darkness is vast and unforgiving, its depths a churning abyss that seems to pull him further into its clutches. Shadows dance around him, spectral hands reaching out, grazing his skin, and sending jolts of fear through his already panicked mind. He catches glimpses of indistinct shapes, dark and foreboding, looming in the murky water. The pressure is immense, crushing his chest, and squeezing the last remnants of breath from his lungs. His mouth opens in a silent scream, bubbles of air escaping and rising to the surface far above.

Suddenly, he feels something brush against his leg, a cold, slimy touch that sends a shiver of terror through him. He kicks out, his movements frantic but feeble. The darkness is swallowing him whole, and he can barely keep his eyes open. His strength is ebbing away, replaced by a paralyzing numbness. The light above grows dimmer, and he knows he's losing the fight. His mind is a whirlwind of despair, and his thoughts are a chaotic jumble of fear and confusion.

(How did he end up here? Why can't he remember?)

Then suddenly... His eyes widen in surprise.

He wakes with a start, his body jerking upright as if pushed by some unseen force. His heart is pounding wildly in his chest, each beat a painful reminder of the nightmare that still clings to his mind. Beads of sweat drip down his face, mingling with the tears he didn't realize he had shed. His breathing is ragged, each inhale sharp and desperate as if he's still struggling for air.

(He clutched his neck, it was still there, and the pain was back. Why does it feel like someone had harshly strangled him?)

Valt's eyes dart around the room, taking in the familiar yet disorienting surroundings. The brightness of his room is a stark contrast to the oppressive gloom of his nightmare. He runs a trembling hand through his damp hair, trying to steady himself, but his thoughts are a tangled mess, the remnants of the nightmare refusing to let go. Every sound seems amplified, every shadow a lurking threat. He can still feel the cold water, the numbing chill that had seeped into his bones.

He wraps his arms around himself, trying to ward off the lingering chill, but the memory—or was it just a dream?—continues to haunt him. His body aches with the phantom pain of his suffering, and the fear lingers, a dark cloud hanging over him.