Devil to the Damned (Prequel #2 )

1|19 - Nightmare

I knew within the first waking second that something was terribly wrong. Then again, the concept of right and wrong, up and down, even real or fiction, were entirely foreign concepts. All I had, and all that I was in each moment preceding and following the now, was blindness.

Not blind in a literal sense. The dancing swirls of orange and red coating velvet charcoal proved that to me. Blind, in the way people can't smell a number. Yet, wholly distracted by the undeniable truth that four indeed smelled like raspberries, and I had to prove it.

Wait. . .

A sharp, reluctant breath cast a sizzling hot pulse across a vacant area, establishing my body through intense rippling stings, which prompted an immediate stifle and mental reevaluation.

I've been here before.

All at once, the dam broke, and every nerve went from distantly dormant, to exposed and flayed. I felt the truth of the floor beneath my back; sticky and cold, dense like stone. I sensed the ceiling seven feet above, dripping with condensation and an otherworldly vulgarity.

The instant that pain triggered an otherwise insignificant arc in my lower back, regret and understanding quickly sank in. Dropping flat, convulsions raced under my skin, and another gasp of air restarted the cycle.

A whimper this time, eyeballs shifting behind the weighted lids. No matter how hard I searched, there was no sense beyond this searing torture, and the dancing imaginary light guiding my retina in circles. I could do nothing but focus on that pain. Radiating, wafting like a tornado of smoke encompassing me horizontally. Raw overcooked flesh perpetually baking under a magnified sunbeam.

This is—

Hurdled through time, I found myself clutching the cage bars; palms joined to the bone, and my one eye peered to the corner where a little boy sat. His knees curled up to his chest and his face was hidden behind a veil of taunting shadow.

I stared at him, locked in this infinite second with the unspoken word jailed behind clenched teeth. I pushed, imagining the word leaving my lips, but it wouldn't come.

The world shifted again, and I was standing, slowly waning left to right like a metronome underwater. The edge of oblivion laid out before me, tempting a single step to end it all.

The flash of a gunshot illuminated the darkness that comforted me, revealing cracks in the fabric of space and time. In a fraction of a second, I saw through the veil. I saw the layers, the lies, the barricades imposed to imprison.

For the first time, the impulse of control brushed past my fingertips.

On the floor, flat on my back. Staggering breaths seemed to follow a predetermined path. In, out, stall, out until empty, in briefly, then out. I memorized this already. Interrupting the flow, I used all my mental fortitude to move my pinkie finger. This disruption in the illusion shattered the binding, momentarily freeing me enough to sit up.

A rush of wind outside the bars shook the metal, but I ignored the sound. Standing before me, was a woman I had seen before. Blood drooling from her chest and a look of petrified terror forever stained her face. Her eyes were hollow, white, searching like a broken spotlight.

The very instant I sent the signal to my brain to speak, it changed again. This time, however, I instinctively emitted a sliver of something I didn't understand. A decadent wave of energy delayed the coming blinder.

Time had reversed, and I found myself gripping the bars again. Pure muscle memory turned me to face the child in the corner.

Before reality could warp again, I shouted inside my head. From my mouth, the scream translated to a dull, tasteless whisper.