The Mysterious Bunker

Chapter 7

Three long deep scratches. I couldn't even get up because it hurt so bad. My leg wobbled and I fell to the floor. I crawled slowly, trying not to apply pressure to my leg. I reached the first aid-kit and opened it. I took the rubbing alcohol and poured it all over my leg. As I winced and groaned at the sting It gave me, I grabbed some cotton swabs. I wiped off any running blood and applied large amounts of gauze and hospital tape and bandage wrap all over my leg. I pushed myself back to the chair using my right leg and left arm and back onto the chair. I struggled to catch my breath and fell back asleep a few moments later. The next few hours or days I suppose it was the same encounter or experience. I would be standing in the mirror, not feeling it's presence but looking at it and touching me in the mirror. This went on for a good amount of time when I decided to get up out of my chair. I needed to change the bandage on the leg as it was now soaked with blood. I went to set myself down on the floor when I saw it. It was standing, but it's eyes were not red or white, they were green. Green like the grass that would grow on the ground before this entire nuclear warfare. Why were its eyes green? What did that mean? It's eye colour didn't affect its mood, temper or level of violence. I slowly pushed myself back up to the chair. I closed my eyes, praying it was just a dream and it would be gone. But when I opened my eyes, it was still there, eyes red like blood. Oh no. Not again. T moved closer and closer. I could feel my fear rise as It got closer and closer. It grabbed my throat and lifted me up off the chair. I tried to release its grip but it was no use. I was gasping for air, I could feel the anger and violent energy that this thing was emitting. I could hear how angry it was from whatever caused this thing to be the way it is now. All I could see was it's red like fire eyes, taking it's anger on me. As I gasped for my last breath, it dropped me back into the chair. As I coughed and choked for air, I could feel my heart beating wildly out of my chest. My throat was sore once again from the pain he caused once again. As I tried to slow my breathing down and calm down I realised that no matter how much this thing hurt me and took anger out on me, I don't think it's allowed to kill me. I don't understand why it wasn't trying to kill me but I'm grateful it wasn't allowed to. After that I didn't see that thing for another few days. When I found this bunk, there were already some things in here, including a few journals and notebooks. I'd managed to grab a notebook and pen to write. I wrote about the strange dreams, the edges of death I'd faced. As I wrote, I'd felt slightly better about getting this pain, this experience off my chest. As I flipped through the book, I noticed there was something written on one of the pages.

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