Short Story #2: Lawson's Lie

This will include:
-major descriptions of gore, coughing up blood, and mentions of burning.

You have been informed.

Enjoy the end. It's all you have left.

–

The hug was desperate. He didn't really want to embrace, yet he didn't want to let go. He was uncertain of what may happen if he did. He no longer had a purpose, he didn't need to keep hanging on.

He muttered a small, “I'm sorry,” to his father and faded away. His vision went black.

.

..

…

….

…..

The figure sat up with a small gasp and clung his paw to his chest. He leaned over while trying to figure out what was going on. He tried to calm his staggering breathing while scratching his arm.

Once he was conciliated he glanced around, only to find he was in a bed. His bed. Why was he here; How was he here. He should not be in this room.

Everything felt so unreal and dark, like a forgotten memory. The blankets were blue and pink and all the colors he had liked. The room's walls were a light shade of pale pink, as they never had the time or money to paint them.

The enclosure was also decorated with shelves, showing his strange interest in envelope collecting (out of everything else, he chose to have a liking for envelopes. Well, whatever made him happy, his parents would always think).

He then looked to the side, surprisingly to be faced with his mother.

“Are you alright?” She inquired, delicately placing a paw on his shoulder. “You seemed to have quite the nightmare.” When he didn't answer, she continued.

“Dad is in the other bedroom. You can sleep in our bed, if you'd like. We're always here for you.”

The young one stared at her, and his expression soon formed into a grimace. “You're not real,” he stated bluntly. The older figure looked at him with confusion, her paw slowly pulling away from the other.

“But, of course I'm real,” she lightly chuckled. “Are you alright, kid?”

“You're not real.”

“Yes, I am,”

“I can still read everything. This is a trick. All that happened was not a dream, this moment is just depraved to look like the past.”

His mother's expression turned blank, and soon everything had morphed away. All that remained was a black, emotionless background and him standing lifelessly in the inky pool of it all.

He soon fell down with a painful grunt. His body felt as if all the molecules were being torn apart and ruthlessly stitched back together. He fixed his gaze down at his paws. His paw pads were switching from a pale, ghostly color to being soaked and drenched with blood- his blood- all in multiple moments. The change kept repeating over and over again.