I wake up screaming and flailing my arms. Every time I close my eyes. I try to fight sleep and fail, again and again and again.
They're not rats. They're not animals of any kind. Or ants. Or roaches. Or any kind of insect. They're unidentifiable... things. Coming to take me apart one tiny piece at a time, unaccountable numbers swarming all over me. Pulling me apart, little piece by little piece, as I writhe in agony, screaming until they climb into my mouth and nose and ears, and begin taking me apart from the inside as I choke on the thousands.
Cass has been gone for a week now, driven off by my unending nightmare. She finished packing a bag in record time and fled our apartment at 3:00 in the morning, yelling, "Get some goddam help or you'll never see me again!"
I can't blame her. She'd put up with it for weeks. Comforting me, holding me at first, assuring and then reassuring me it wasn't real, that I'd be okay. She lost sympathy by degrees, taking to sleeping on the couch, each day more and more ragged like me. Began yelling, "Shut up! Shut the fuck up!" And then the night she'd quickly packed and left.
I began by drinking cup after cup of coffee, fighting to stay awake as long as possible. And failing, of course. Then I switched to booze, hoping getting drunk would help, but that didn't work either.
I haven't been to work in days, haven't even been out of the apartment for days. They've probably fired me, but I'm not answering the phone. In fact, it's lying on the floor in tiny pieces, the meat tenderizer beside it. I had to stop it. The ringing wouldn't stop. It wouldn't stop. I had to stop it. I had to.
Nor have I gotten help. Because, you see, I know it's not a dream. It's my future. No one can help me, no one. I'm actually glad Cass left, because I was afraid they'd get her too. Now I know she's safe. But there's nothing I can do for myself.
I'm laying in bed, utterly exhausted. Too weak to get up. My body won't stop shaking. The sheets are soaked from my sweat. Trying to stay awake. I stare at the clock. It changes to 4:17, malevolent red lights staring back against the black, when I hear it. That scuttling, clicking sound, quiet at first, then growing faster and faster and louder and louder. I cover my ears but I can still hear it. The tears begin to flow. I'm not a bad person! I don't deserve this! I open my eyes to see them pouring into the room under the door. The sound is roaring now, roaring like a tsunami, a gigantic flood consuming me.
"Please! No!" They're climbing up the side of my bed!
"Help me, please! Someone help me!"
I hear a scream. It's me. It's me!
I'm not asleep. This time it's real! They've come! They've come!
