Doctors orders

#2 Booted

"I'm sorry Nico, but I've told you several times, if you can't pay for the dorm then you can't use the dorm, end of discussion."

"But sir I promise! I have more money coming, just give me another week, and you'll have it in your hands!"

"That's what you said last week, and the week before that, no more punk, now leave!"

And with that the door slams in Nico's face leaving him out in the cold in the middle of winter. How was he supposed to get the money in? There was only so much work that he could do while still keeping up with his studies. There was no way that he could possibly do it all, and not to mention that the only job he could score was working a double shift at McDonald's at all places. At least the food was nice. 

It doesn't matter, cause right now he has to find somewhere to stay for the night so that he doesn't die from the cold. Luckily he still got to keep his aviator jacket. After a while of walking, he found himself at the nearest park and fell asleep within the walls of the community bathroom, snuggled up in his own arms. 

Gone from the cold, but never gone from the dreams. 

Arms wrapped around him, bodies, zombies, all curling up around him, dragging him to a pool of blood. No matter how hard Nico fought then, they just pulled him down harder, until he began to sink in, further and further. He screamed and shook, trying to escape their grasp, but it was no use, they were just stronger. They pulled him down until he was fully under the surface of the bright red blood, tingling against his skin with a burning sensation. 

When he looked into the vast red sea he was surrounded in, he saw them, he saw that night. Hands reaching out to him, ye they were different. This time they matched that of his own, and connected to those hands were arms, and to the arms were the faces. Oh, the faces. The face of his mother, scrunched up in fear, screaming and screaming, but the sound of it never reached his ear. The face of his father was torn up and broken like there was no life left in him, yet the pounding of his chest kept moving up and down up and down, moving and breathing. He was alive, but there was nothing left of him. 

But the worst of all was his sister, her face looked lost, eyes scanning around and around looking for something, but they were unfocused and hazy, unable to concentrate on anything in front of her. She was calling his name and asking for him, reaching for him, and when he reached out to her, it went right through. As his hand went through hers, she evaporated, disappearing into nothing but dust at his feet, covering his legs in ash. Her face ripped apart into nothing but smoke, leaving him alone, with the ghosts of his parents. The eminence of someone who was no longer there, and never will be.