Come With Me

Chapter 2, Part 2

Thank you so much for sticking with me, my loyal fans!!!!! I am sorry for the long delay, and I will post much sooner!! I hope you like it, and pleeeaaase VOTE, SUBSCRIBE, and COMMENT!! <3

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A stupid little light was bringing the veins in my eyelids into view. I threw the crook of my arm over my eyes, blocking out the light.  I groaned, wishing nothing but to go back to sleep.  I laid there for several moments, but I became restless.  My neck had a crook in it; it must have slipped off the pillow.  I furiously groped for it while the light continued to penetrate my eyes. 

But what finally woke me was the smell.  It was oddly pleasant; warm, misty, but damp.  My subconscious labeled that as weird, since my room in the basement was dry and cold.  I blinked open my sticky eyes.

A slow flood of panic started to rise in me, and I couldn’t stop looking.  Everything was white, off-white, cream-white, egg-white, every white.  I sat up to see things from right-side up, (if that made a difference.)  I grimaced and gripped my side.  I wonder why I hurt, but most importantly…

Where the hell was I?! 

The more I tried to remember, the more the memories slipped away.  My brain was pounding against my skull like a freezing man might knock on a door if he knew there was warmth inside.  And then, in my agony, it seemed like my mind was short circuiting. 

Bits and snippets of what seemed like an awful nightmare flashed in my third eye like black lightning.  It was rattling my head; frying my thoughts.  It put my hands around my head, mumbling, “No…no…no…”  When the visions became more ferocious, my voice became louder. 

I saw blood. Oh, God, there was lots of blood.   A bloody key.  A bloody boy.  He was mangled and torn; you couldn’t even distinguish between the different types of flesh; they were all ground together.  His blurred face was blank and his eyes were empty of life, but with every new flash, his face became clearer.  The image became sharper.  As it did, I started rocking back and forth, now screaming a stream of no’s.  Because the boy, lying on the bed, with his stomach cut open, with a beautiful witch in him,

Was me.

Now where I was made sense.  I was not at home in my bed; I was in some other dimension, where time doesn’t exist, where the air is still for eternity.  I was in the Afterlife, and I was dead.  The realization hit me like a ton of bricks over the course of several minutes. 

But, if I was dead, why did I feel pain?

“Because you are letting yourself feel pain.  You don’t really feel it, you just think you are. It’s quite easy to fix.”

The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and if I had a beating heart, it would have stopped because I wasn’t the one talking.  There was someone behind me.