Nightmares [Real Stories]

Night Twenty-Five

You know those nightmares which begin to be dreams till a certain point? Well, for me tonight was not the case.

It all started in an empty dark room. In front of me there was a boy sitting on the ground, his head down and his hands tied behind his back.

I then noticed he had some cuts on his shirt and pants, but it was nothing big so I ignored it.

"Who are you?" I asked, and I swear I saw his body tense up. And the scary thing is that I enjoyed the effect I had on him.

He didn't say anything, so I came closer and bent to his level and asked again, this time with a more hostile voice "I asked, who are you? Answer"

He didn't say anything, but this time he raised his head a little so I could see the half of his face only. And that's when fear spread to all of my body.

He was grinning. He had that grin on his face.

I began to tremble, then to shake like crazy.

"Wanna have a little fun, doll?" He asked, his voice coming out almost inaudible. I began to back up, but it didn't seem to be a door, so how can I run away? Easy, I can't.

I then realized he disappeared, and I freaked out. I began to move around, looking for a way out. But in vain. I was running anywhere right now, with no direction whatsoever, and I saw something. I found a wooden stick, and when I remembered him, I instinctively grabbed it for self-defense.

"You little murderous child, that's a wrong thing to do" Someone whispered in my ear and I jumped out of fear. And by impulse, I stabbed him on the stomach. He backed off a few steps, holding the stick with his hands.

I was paralyzed. I felt SICK at the sight in front of me. I brought my hands to my face and my shaking began again. I felt like I was about to scream at the top of my lungs when I woke up sweating.

My breathing was accelerated, and I was covered in cold sweat. Another nightmare. a new nightmare that hadn't appeared till now.

I killed him. I stabbed him with a stick! I'm not even sure if it was just my imagination or if it was a memory. If it is not my imagination...I don't even know how I'll react to that, or how I can look at people in the eye remembering the face of agony on the agonizing boy.

What do I do now?