Splattered Paint - Dan Howell

White Walls

I was awoken from my peaceful slumber by birds chirping as I lay comfortably in a bed, warm and cosy, unlike the usual solid floor. Distant muffled voices and echoed laughs could be heard, as well as the constant beeping of a machine to my left. I felt safe, so I opened my eyes.
I was sat in a brightly lit room on a white bed, white tiles covering every inch of flooring and picture frames hanging on white walls like canvasses awaiting art. I examined my hands and noticed I was clean of the blood and dirt; skin soft and unharmed.
I smiled to myself at the realization.

"Oh darling you're awake, how are you feeling?" 

I turned my head slowly and sat on my right was my mother, having seemingly appeared out of thin air. Her eyes twinkled and hand touched my shoulder gently in a comforting manner.

"It's okay sweetheart. I'll always be here for you" I rested my head back on the pillow and shut my eyes with the corners of my mouth tugging upwards in a small smile.
"I'll always be here for you" the words repeated softly in my head as I drifted back to sleep.

I gasped and jolted forward, the white walls being replaced by gray concrete, my heart sinking in the realization that the happiness was merely a dream. I still felt the sensation of my mother's hand on my shoulder and I placed my own hand where hers was in my dream, a singular tear falling from my eye.

I don't know how much longer I can take of this.

Then I heard it again, a deep voice booming from down the corridor and this time I didn't pray to be protected. I prayed to die.