Teen Idols And Happy Meals

Devil's Food And Nightmares

Jacen’s POV

The true nightmare begins when reality becomes worse than your nightmares.

I had thought my nightmare was well under way. Bodies strung up by the branches of cherry trees, eyes as dead as black ice, glass lancing through my skin, pain so acute I’m sure I’ll die. These were the things that haunted me; plagued my waking hours, turned my dreams into horror shows. The memory of Michael was my real life nightmare, or so I had thought.

Turns out, the real nightmare hadn’t even begun. Not until I opened my eyes.

The first thing I was aware of was pain, blooming harshly against my ribcage, rocking through me like a virus. My temples burned in tune with the pounding in my head, and my entire body ached like one giant bruise.

Even my eyelids were sore. I had to fight just to pry them open. My eyelashes felt like they were weighed down with rocks, threatening to drag me back down into the dark cavern of unconsciousness. But I fought against sleep and after some fluttering, opened my eyes.

The world around me was dim, illuminated only by calming lamplight, stemming from a far corner. A fire crackled lowly in the fireplace, releasing wispy wreaths of smoke throughout the living room. As a whole, the place had an earthy, log cabin feel to it. The furniture was old and mismatched, with patchwork quilts flung over the backs of the musty couch.

My mind was still hazy with sleep, or perhaps something else, but I was fairly certain I had never been there before. Despite its quaint appearance, the place had an uncanny aura to it. I felt like a visitor on an alien planet.

A faint humming sound, soft and pleasant, had begun to drift into my wake. I turned my head to the side, revealing more of the room to my view, uncovering the kitchen that was situated behind me. The motion caused pain to shoot down my neck like bolts of lightning, igniting in my chest. My ribs screamed and I flinched.

The rattling of chains sounded in response, spurring me to take stock of myself for the first time. I was seated upright in a padded arm chair, my wrists bound to the wooden arms with lengths of heavy silver chain. Confused, I pulled at the restraints but only succeeded in making my wrists ache.

“Jacen?” the humming cut off as the sound of my name floated my way. “Is that you darling?”

I looked up automatically, ignoring the pain in my neck as I turned to see a figure emerging from the kitchen. A girl, unfamiliar to me as this place, peered at me curiously from beneath greasy blonde bangs. She was probably around my own age and gangly, tall as any boy with long, awkward limbs like a puppy that hadn’t quite grown into its paws. On her skinny frame she wore shredded jeans a loose, corduroy button up the color of old blood. She had a round, pretty face with sunken green eyes, trapped behind wire trim glasses. Her dark blonde hair, where it dipped into her face, was cropped short like a boy’s.

“You’re awake,” she observed pleasantly, wiping her hands, where they were coated with flower, against her tattered jeans. “Did you have a nice nap?”

I blinked, startled by the normalcy. “What?” I demanded harshly, my volume contrasting with her mellow tone. My voice sounded strange to my own ears; strained and thin, like I’d been gargling nails.

“Ah, I should’ve known better than to talk to you when you first wake up,” she giggled lightly, “I know what you need.” She went off then, slipping easily into the kitchen, “Bet you won’t be so cranky once you’ve had your mocha.”

Confusion had me in a vice grip. My mind was struggling to keep up with what was going on around me. I was half dazed, half panicked – and completely lost. My memory felt constricted, like there was a damn in my mind, blocking the flow of my thoughts. I couldn’t remember how I had gotten here, for the life of me. And it very well might have been.