Psycho

Unit 2

Disclaimer: This story contains violence, gore, sexual content and strong language. Subjects covered might trigger some. If you are very sensible or easily offended, please abstain from reading.

The weird burning sensation in Dan's stomach was the reason for his early awakening. His phone displayed 3:31am. A person like Dan, going to bed around 3am and waking up at 1 in the afternoon, would feel completely exhausted waking up this early. But, for some reasons, he felt strangely good physically although he felt mentally empty.

Phil was still asleep and going online didn't even cross Dan's thoughts for a second.

Claustrophobia had never really affected him in any way. But today, he felt trapped staying inside of his room or even just the flat. He looked around himself, breathing heavily. The only source of light in the room was his small lamp next to his bed. It made the room look gloomy. Dan felt his chest going up and down faster and faster as he looked around. If he didn't get out of there anytime soon, he would hit the walls with his fists and feet.

He ran to the wall and propelled his foot right into the plastered surface. Dan smashed his fists into the wall and banged his head against it. He scratched the wall so strongly that his nails, at first, removed a layer of the wall, but then they started bleeding, flowing down the wall and they tore off of his fingers one by one.

Dan took a deep breath to calm himself down. He rubbed his hands together and looked at the wall. He was glad to notice the surface was undamaged. Jesus, his daydreaming became so vivid he couldn't even differentiate reality and fiction. He greatly needed to blow and change his mind.

Dan dressed up of his black jeans and a black T-shirt, nothing more normal, and then put on his coat. After putting on his shoes, Dan was ready to leave the flat but he stayed in the middle of his room, staring at the emptiness for a few minutes. He walked toward his desk and opened the drawer he used to stow his useless stuff. He examined the inside for a moment and then took out a thick red rectangle. Dan had been offered this penknife years ago by a family member. He never saw the purpose of owning one of those and simply doomed it to the drawer of oblivion.

It was only today, years later, that Dan finally decided to take it with him, just in case. For all these years, he didn't even remember he had a penknife and today he just acknowledged its existence. He shoved it down his pants' pocket and closed the drawer. He got out of his room and quietly exited the flat.

The night was cold and plunged into the dusk. Dan shivered and zipped his coat higher. He adventured himself in the dark street. He walked, not really heading anywhere. He felt the cold breeze against his uncovered face and felt good.

Nobody was around. It was completely deserted. Only him and the silence. Dan looked both side of the road and crossed. In the middle of the road, he looked back to the left and a truck was driving to an indescribable speed toward him. The only thing he could see was the number "16" written in the dirt of the truck's windows. He didn't have time to run to the other side of the road that the truck hit him violently.

Dan jumped and quickly opened his eyes. He was still alone in the middle of the street. No car was around and there weren't even tire marks on the road. Dan sighed deeply and walked to the other side. After mindlessly walking for an hour, Dan sat down on a bench. He observed the empty London landscape.

He breathed in deeply, absorbing the silence, when he heard heels clattering on the concrete behind him. He swiftly turned around and saw a lady walking toward his bench. She looked about Dan's age. She was swaddled in a red coat and white fluffy scarf. Her long brown hair was floating in the wind.

"Hi..." the lady gently said. "Sorry, did I scare you?"

She sat down next to Dan.

"Uh, yeah, I guess." Dan replied, puzzled.