Manthony ✨

Sleep Paralysis

~SLEEP PARALYSIS~

~Mitchel~

⚠️Trigger Warning! Sleep paralysis with hallucinations occurs, followed by an anxiety attack. Mentions of a gun.

The muzzle of the gun stays cold to my forehead as I stare up at the black silhouette above me. I listen to his breathing as he just stands there, keeping me at gunpoint in my own bed. I can't move. It's dark and I can only see his frame as I close my eyes. Am I about to die? Where's Christian? Am I already dead? Is he dead? Oh, God. The thought makes some sort of animalistic gurgle resonate in my throat as the guy keeps the gun to my head, still unmoving. I hold my breath, willing this to go away. Maybe if I hold my breath long enough, I'll pass out. That's stupid. I exhale and resume breathing, trying to figure out how to get out of this when everything goes black and I sit up, a small scream ripping from my throat,

"Mitchel?" I hear his voice cut through the mess in my head and I breathe heavily, sweating,

"Where'd he go? Where's...Are you okay?" I ask turning to him and he raises an eyebrow,

"Where's who?" He asks and I turn and grab his shoulders,

"Christian, where'd he go?" I ask, fear replacing my blood,

"Mitchel, who?" He asks and I freak out, scrambling out of bed and running to the bathroom. I shouldn't have smoked so much weed before bed. Is that the problem? Or am I just losing it? What the hell is happening? I sink down on the floor and he walks in, touching my shoulder and I jerk away,

"Get away! Get away from me! Stop!" I'm screaming and probably waking up the other people in the building when he sinks down beside me and looks in my eyes,

"What the hell is going on, baby?" He asks and I just start breathing heavy again,

"He had a gun," I heave, "He had a gun and he was gonna kill me," I breathe, "I couldn't move," I grab his t-shirt and he grabs my shoulders, "I thought you were dead," I ramble on, "I...I don't know..." my brain is a mess and I feel uncomfortable in my own skin. I leap up and I'm probably driving him crazy but I feel like I'm losing it. I rip off my shirt and toss it on the floor. He comes following me out of the bathroom and I'm about to open the door to the apartment for whatever reason and he runs over, wrapping his arms around my waist, tight,

"Whoa, no, we're not leaving like this," he says and I let out another scream as I kick and thrash, freaking out for a reason that neither of us can find,

"Let me go! Let go!" I scream and his hand comes over and clamps over my mouth. He drags me back to bed and covers me with the sheets but I throw them off, trying to get back up when he just straddles my hips to keep me down. His hand is still over my mouth and his other one strokes my hair,

"Baby, what is going on?" He asks and keeps comforting me. I start sobbing and my body isn't tense anymore. He still sits on my hips in case I lose it again and try to leave, "Baby, please, what's wrong?" He asks and I grab his hand, removing it from my mouth,

"It was so real," I whisper and he moves off of me, resting beside me, wrapping a leg around me so I don't leave,

"What was?" He asks and keeps stroking my hair,

"It was like he was right in front of me," I whisper,

"Who?" He questions and I sigh,

"The man with the gun," I say quietly, my voice cracking and tears falling down my face,

"Oh, baby," he says and wipes my tears away with his thumbs, "It was just a dream," he whispers and I feel myself starting to calm down,

"Christian," I whisper and he wraps his arm around me, pulling me closer, my face buried in his chest. I don't like the fabric in the way so I slide my hands underneath his shirt and press my palms against his skin, "Your heart's racing," I say and he sighs, kissing the top of my head,

"You scared me," he says and I let another tear fall onto the sheets before I kiss him. God, the way he kisses and holds me will never fail to make me hard. I pull away before anything happens and lay next to him, hands under his shirt and face against his chest. I don't know what happened but I think I should cut down on the weed before I sleep. Am I crazy? Or was that some sort of anxiety attack? I don't know but I'm drifting off once more, finally feeling safe again, in his arms and against his warm body,

"Christian," I whisper and it's the last thing I say before I nod off.