Scars

Chapter 4

The woman's cackles fade into the distance and I run to the first door.

This way... I look around to find the face to the whisper but only find the other dull doors. The doors must be speaking, I can feel it. They're alive.

My hand pulls back from the brass handle and find another. The knob squeaks as I turn it and push forward. I stare down the  next blank hallway. My head is swimming  in the blanket of white that surrounds me.

My feet some how find their will to move forward, soon that motion of barely moving turns into deranged running. My feet pound the white tile and my head throbs from the weight of my brain.

A fork in the road and I'm too delusional to think of which way to go. So I follow the persisting voice that engulfs my thoughts. Left... it screeches impatiently. I turn left and run even faster than before but only to find myself running into another blank fork.

Right... it whispers as though anyone but me would hear it's cowardice murmur. My feet start to instinctively follow the whisper till my lungs were on fire and my calves burned.

A long hallway is before me  and  I find myself staring at a black door. It's color divides my attention and I find myself stumbling towards it, my feet barely able to hold their own weight. I use the wall as a support but soon find myself needing much more than that.

I am a mouse, looking for it's cheese but only able to find a worse trap.

My hand finds the handle of the black and I use whatever energy I have left to pull it open.

My toes play at the edge of a black hole and I'm too tired to fight the impending doom of the force that pull me down into this horrible oblivion.

I'm falling and my thoughts are scattered as I wait for the bottom, but as I near the ground I find myself waking up into another more terrifying dream.

A circus.