Stitches ~ Scömìche

I'm Shaking

Mitch sat in the corner, Abe was out and he was alone in the house. Mitch had every single blanket he could find piled on top of him, yet somehow he was still cold.

Mitch shivered and pulled one of the blankets a little closer to his chin. A puddle from a broken glass rested near the bed. Mitch had dropped the glass when he started shaking badly.

Mitch had never been so cold in his life. And no mater how many blankets he piled on top of himself he was still cold, as if the coldness was coming from the inside out.

Mitch heard the door open, if he was feeling better he might of came to the door and greater Abe. Possibly taking his jacket, Abe never locked the door since that night.

Abe walked worriedly to the door the Mitch's room and got increasingly worried as he saw Mitch.

"Are you alright, my songbird?" He asked crouching down next to Mitch's blanketed form. Mitch didn't answer, instead he kept shivering. Abe grit his teeth before walking out of the room. He returned with a rag that he pressed to Mitch's face.

Mitch breathed a few time before he could no longer keep his eyes open. They shut and he began to dream.

~

He dreamed of a hand gripping his own. It guided him through many beautiful places, a field, a forest, a beach, Mitch felt perfectly relaxed.

The hand gripping his wrist transformed in front of his very eyes turning clawed. The black nails' sharpened points dug into his skin. Mitch yelped and tried to pull his wrist away from the monster, but the more he struggled the deeper the thing dug in their claws. Mitch whimpered as the thing began to pull him along again.

The beautiful places transformed in front of his eyes, becoming twisted and evil. Mitch shuddered in fear becoming completely unhappy with where he was.

The thing came to a stop again, transforming once again. This time the claws turned back to normal human hands and the nails were out of his skin, wounds healed. It started pulling him again, the evil places changing into broken ones. Something was so off, yet so beautiful about every single one.

They stopped again. The tight grip on Mitch's wrist loosing but nothing about the hand itself changed.

The broken places transformed into pure places. Beautiful. Yet to be broken. Mitch almost didn't like it, everything was so perfect. He felt as if he took one step he would throw the balance of everything, but instead the hand dragged him onwards.

They stopped again.

"Songbird?" A low voice asked him. Mitch opened his eyes, leaving the dream world. He was cradled to someone's chest feeling quite tired.

"Hmmm...?" Mitch responded closing his eyes. He was so tired.

"Stay with me baby," the voice murmured. "Let me know you're still awake."

"Hmmm..." Mitch just curled himself tightly to the chest, trying to create more warmth. The cold seemed to just creep in from any part of him that wasn't making contact.

"Tell me a story," the voice urged.

"Hm." Mitch replied. He was so cold and so tired.

"Sing?" The voice tried, seeming very optimistic.

"Row..." Mitch whispered. "Row. Row... Your boat... Gently..." He stopped there, too tired.

"Down," the voice tried to get him to continue.

"The stream... Merrily..." Mitch stopped again.

"Merrily," the voice continued the tune.

"Life..." Mitch stopped again.

"Is but."

"A... Dream..." Mitch yawned. Mitch wanted to be in his dreams.

"Are you sleeping?" The voice asked, worry coating his words.

"Are... You sleeping.." Mitch sang back. "Brother John... Brother John..."

"Morning Bells are ringing."

"Morning...Bells are... Ringing..."

"Ding,"

"Dang dong.... Ding dang ding," Mitch smiled a little and started to relax his mind.

"Stay with me baby, keep singing." The voice said. Mitch frowned and he struggled to think of any other song.

"Mary..." Mitch started half heartedly. "Had a... Little lamb...."

"Little lamb."

"Little lamb... Mary had a little... Lamb... Whose..." Mitch gave up and let his mind fall asleep, ignoring the pleads for him to stay awake.