The Gate Beyond

Nightmares that Wipe Away the Times

Chapter Seven: Nightmares that Wipe Away the Times

Bum-buh-bum

His heart was beating at an impossible rate as he hugged his knees to his chest. Adrenaline and fear coursed through his veins, causing his breaths to become labored and his entire body to shake. He was petrified. What if it saw him?

Bum-buh-bum

Bum-buh-bum

God, his heart was beating so loud! Shouldn't the creature be able to hear it?

Bum-buh-bum

He just...

Bum-buh-bum

Needed...

Bum-buh-bum

To calm down...

Screech!

He almost screamed at the sound of the door creaking open. He clenched his eyes shut. The doors of the wardrobe he had hidden himself in were closed, but who knew how long that would last? He pressed himself a little further against the back of the wardrobe as if it would bring him some kind of invisibility. Which, in his case, it probably could if he tried hard enough.

Harsh breathing reached his ears, making the nation pale. Please, don't let the creature figure out where he was... He didn't want to die...

The doors opened, revealing the creature he had been so desperately trying to hide from. He opened his mouth to scream as the creature reached out and-

"Matthew!"

Matthew's eyelids shot open at the sound of his name being yelled, his chest heaving. Alfred was at his bedside, staring down at him with worried, sky blue orbs. The prince let out a relieved sigh. It had just been another nightmare...

"Are you okay?" Alfred asked. Matthew gave a weary nod and sat up in the bed Tristan had let him use. These nightmares that were plaguing him were getting out of hand. Maple, his hands were still shaking...

"I-It was just another nightmare," Matthew explained.

"A nightmare... of that time?"

"Yes," Matthew's eyes drooped to his sheets, "I've been having nightmares of the mansion for weeks. They all started the day I met Arthur in the marketplace." His brother hummed in understanding and sat on the edge of the bed. He had shed his other clothing and only wore a simple, white button-up shirt and khaki pants.

"I had the same nightmares after we escaped. I think everyone did. Eventually, the memories fade, though they're never forgotten. Once that happens, the nightmares become few. You just need to hold on," said Alfred, who sifted a hand through his wheat blonde hair, "But seeing as you don't have any memories of your time as a nation, that might, unfortunately, take a while. You'll make it, though."

Matthew nodded his understanding and the brothers sat in companionable silence for a few minutes. To change the subject, Alfred spoke again, "You know, I never asked, but what's your mom and dad like? People like me and Arthur... don't really have parents."

"Well, my father is really goofy, kind, and wise," Matthew smiled softly, "He was always there for me. He never let me outside of the castle, though, and I began to despise him for it. But now that I see why, I just want to apologize. It makes it even worse that I'm unable to do it. And my mother... Well, she was the most wonderful woman you could ever meet. She was quiet and mild-mannered and had the most amazing voice. She was intelligent and always read me her favorite books."

"How did she die?" America asked, noticing how Matthew kept using the word 'was.'

Matthew frowned, as if he was trying to remember something. He awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, "You know... Now that I think about it, I don't remember how she died. Maple... Why don't I remember? Why don't I remember how my own mother died?"