Zone Of Cruelty

dream scape

Timothy opens his baby blue eyes slowly and looks around.

Laughing a bit he gets up and stands on his toes looking around the room to see if he can find any hints to where she went. Grining from ear to ear he yells out "Ready or not here I come!"

Walking around the quiet empty room, Timothy searches for his partner. Giggling to himself as he tip toes past the couch and into one of the rooms of the building.

The building is familiar and even though its been forever since he's been in a building like this he seems to know it like the back of his hand.

Looking around he spots a pair of small danty feet and sneaks towards them.
The feet seem to be barley peeking of the crimson red curtains and with out hesitation he opens the curtains only to spot a woman; a beautiful blonde woman with dead grey eyes.

Blood starts falling down her nose and scanning his eyes from her feet to her head he can see the wound in the middle of her forehead. A dark bullet stuck right I'm the middle of her foregead. The dear woman, looking roughly around the age of thirty-five begins to turn pale and lifeless.

His heart begins to pound and even though Timothy backs away he somehow seems to be frozen in place. The females body begins to lean towards him but before it falls on top of him he hears his name from the other side of the room.

Turning his head towards the voice he freezes. Tears forming in his eyes he sees the same woman, yet shes perfectly fine and smiles sweetly towards him in a caring and motherly way.
Turning back towards the red curtains he sees just an empty space with the sun shinning through gleefully like all that happen was just a hallucination.

Shaking in a panicked state Timothy can't help but pull his quivering hand towards his chest, holding it there tightly.
"Timmy?" Hearing his name spoken by that beautiful silk voice again he faces back to the woman, "you ok?"
Walking towards her Timothy hugs her tightly.

"Y-you're real right?" Stuttering Timothy prays she's not actually dead, yet deep inside he knows the truth and dreads to face it. "I-" biting his tongue he can't bring himself to say it. Forcing it out he speaks.

"You're not real" laughing a bit in sadness and realization he shakes his head.

"None of this is real"

Gathering his thoughts he shakes his head

She's dead, she's been dead, why can't I get over it!?

Finally gathering courage he speaks out the truth he knows in deep in his heart.

"You're dead mom"

Hearing the loud and ear shattering gun shot that murdered his mother, Timothy Springs up from his slumber in a cold sweat. Panting intensly he looks around panicking.

Gripping his hair bringing his body in a fetal position he whispers to himself a phrase over and over again, like a chant barely clingy onto sanity.

"Its not real, it's all fake, it's not real".

Even though he knows it was just a dream he can't help himself from shaking. Once again he says the phrase a final time and breathes out.

Everything's turning numb, everything is just so numb! I hate this. I hate the way I live and the life I was brought into.

Holding his head he let's his thoughts fade into silence
Breathing out Timothy sinks into a sleepless state as he does every night. Nightmares of his mother's dearg plagues his mind every time he seems to close his eyes.

You'd expect him to get over it since it's been 6 years but the gun shot still haunts him. 14 now abd he's still going through constant emotions and changes. Not having anyone to inform him of anything he has to figure it out all on his own.

Getting up he walks around his home, legs shaking from his panic attack, he paces around the small room occasionally looking out the window for any threats that may show up.

Going to the empty kitchen he opens a cabinet which is full of random objects. In the cabinet is a bottle, a few plastic bags and some other odd materials. Reaching his hand in the caninet, he grabs a colorful cube.

Going back to his couch he lays on his back and begins flipping the colors around, turning it precisely to get rows of the same colors.

Thirty minutes later the cube lays on his chest with each side coordinated to have the same color on each side. Falling in a deep sleep he lays there and rolls over pushing the cube off his chest and onto the the floor.