Sober silence

Chapter One
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I'm running down a long narrow hallway with the image of black, like a pencil marking someone tried to erase but gave up leaving a smudge. I crane my neck to the right and see pictures of me hanging on the walls. They show me smiling, I hate smiling. As I approach the pictures for a better inspection I'm thrown into a chair against my will. The portraits of me start to climb out the frame. The once idiotic photos of me smiling turn horrendous as they exit they turn jet black clothes, skin, hair, everything. All but one tiny detail they have different eye color as to where mine are a soft hazel with shreds of brown they have a bright Crimson eyes that are in deep contrast to their black getup adding a bigger emphasis on they're true intentions. My eyes shoot back to my shoulder where my fucking whore of a mom grabs me in a iron grip holding a knife asking me if I want to go to camp they have horse shoe toss. The chair seems to crumble into tiny shards of glass polluted with a green pale color. I back away regretting that part of my life I tried to put behind me, the emo phase I went through but suddenly a sharp metallic smell courses through the room I look down to see all of the jet black me's. They all seem to be bleeding out of their wrist, a color neither Crimson or black but a green. The shade is such a weak, pale tiny that it makes the Crimson and black hurt my eyes and I realize it's the same tint from the glass. My jaw drops as I back away into a wall, wait no a man who's face is unrecognizable. Suddenly a shrill scream escapes my throat one almost feral and see my mom with her knife going at my wrist cutting away as if it was a bar of soap and a project overdue. The man whispers into my ear "You brought the downfall of the Cthulhu and now the necronomicon is destroyed" and suddenly he pierces my heart from behind and whispers he may not be resurrected but something else will and he pushes me down a pit chuckling at his statement as if it was the punchline to a long joke. As I fall down the long pit my body curves upward and I see the top vanishing from view and I don't know why but my tear ducts begin to flow almost like when a cliché love conformist sees the sun dawn and her loved one is now passed away. I think back to edgar Allen Poe and his story the raven and as I see the black bottom of the pit filled with those smiling atrocities ready to catch me, I quote him "you fancy me mad but mad men know nothing". Than I am enveloped by the dark me's, I than wake.