Wake Up

Prologue

I sit alone in the basement. I'm staring at the wall in front of me. I want to put two holes in it. I'm staring at the words "give it up".
I didn't write that. It was probably Fear.
I look around. This place is a mess. There's used paper everywhere. There's stuff written all over the walls, mostly by Fear and I.

I head upstairs to my room. Fear's room is right across from mine. His girlfriend, Doubt, is in there right now. She's blasting music. I plop down on my bed, hoping I can just tune it out.

Nope.

"Hey Doubt, can you turn that down or something, please?" Manners. A necessary asset when speaking with Fear's girlfriend, no matter how hard it is.
"No." She snaps. And I swear, the volume of the music increases. I grunt and roll over, trying to cover my ears with my pillow.

As hard as it was, I eventually fell asleep, preparing myself for nightmares.
They're almost every night, lately.

Some nights I relive time in the hospital.
Most nights I'm just sitting in a void. I'll look down at my hands, but they aren't there, because nothing is there.

I start panicking when this happens. Even though it happens so often.
I should be grateful for those dreams. A break from anything having to do with life or reality.
But I'm not.

Probably because when nothing is there, it feels like I'm dead. Or everyone else is dead.

Nothing is ever there.

---

Doubt is driving me nuts today. She's stolen like three things from my room in the past four hours.
Even after me locking the door.
She picked the lock.

Now, I come downstairs to the basement to see her sitting in my chair, using my pencils, in my notebook, with her feet up on my desk.
Ugh. Not gonna lie though, I like her boots.

"What are you doing?"
"Drawing. What's it look like?"
"Can't you use your own paper?"
"I don't need to." She's still looking down at the notebook in her lap.
"Well... the stuff you're using is mine."
"And?"

I'm gonna lose it.

"And... I'd rather it not be used by anyone but... me. Because its mine."
"Does it look like I care?"
"I don't care if you care or not." I snapped. He glances up at me, but doesn't budge.
"You know what? Get out."

She immediately turns to face me, a look of disgust in her eyes.
"Excuse me?" She says.
"Exactly. Get out of my house."
"Ugh." She stands up and shoves the notebook into my chest, stomping upstairs.

That was a lot easier than I thought it would be.

I look down at the notebook. She had drawn a set of keys and a cage with a bed in the corner, like a prison cell.