Forever In My Nightmares (Darkiplier)

Please, Listen To Me

I looked around with a start as I woke up, the taste of iron in my mouth. Fuzziness filled my head and I tried to make sense of the scene around me as I became fully aware of my surroundings. My breath was short, as if there were a small struggle in the past few minutes. I couldn't see much without my glasses but I felt my hand gripping a plastic handle. I let go of  whatever I was holding and I stood. I felt around the counter before blindly grabbing my glasses and putting them on. Blood covered the floor of my kitchen where I woke. Looking down at my hands, I realized they were covered in blood and my gut twisted. Was it mine, or someone else's? When did I do this? I wondered if the nightmare I'd had the week before was a warning that this would happen. I needed to figure out what was going on with Dark. But how could I do it when I was blacking out every second?

I felt an itch on my head as I reached up to scratch it, only finding more blood that had been dried. I shuddered slightly as I grew nauseas.

Why be afraid of the what makes you alive?

As I recovered from gagging, my mind went back to a more serious and pressing matter: whose blood was this?

With a sigh, I realized that there was only one way to find out. I had to follow the trial of blood on the floor. So instead of just sinking into the floor and dying (like I had originally planned when I saw the scene) I stepped silently through the house, following the blood trail. My shoes tracked the blood as I walked slowly, screaming proof of my existence. I was wishing with every single step, every single frantic beat of my heart, every inch of my being, that this was all a nightmare. An illusion that Dark had cast on me from which I would surely wake up any moment.

It never happened like I'd hoped.

Now your getting nervous.

I finally followed the blood trail to just outside my room. I could hear my heartbeat in my ears. My pulse kept getting faster. For a slight moment, I wondered if my heart was supposed to sound like a weed eater. I rested my head against the door and squeezed my eyes shut, biting my lip. My anxiety is so high right now. I slowly reach for the door handle as I take my head off the door.

Okay. It's time to take a deep breath and open the door. I slowly turned the handle, gently hearing the click of the door. I breathed out slowly and opened the door.

What I saw shocked me. I almost fell back in surprise. My blood ran cold and my hand flew up to my chest as I let out a cry.

"Jack!" I screamed, running over to the bed to see him all cut and scraped on his arms, face, neck, and his bare chest. His blood soaked shirt lay right outside my bathroom and I saw Chica sniff it, whining before crouching in fear.

Don't fear your own work.

Jack was still conscious as I hovered over him, fear flashing in his blue eyes.

"M-Mark. Please don't h-hurt me anymore." He begged, making my heart sink. I cried many tears to him and untied his hands. He started to reach for my phone before I stopped him.

"Jack. Please. Listen to me." I told him. His fear was gone as he revolted and anger flared into his features. "Listen ta ya? Listen ta ya! How tha hell can I listen ta you aft'r ya only jus tortured me.  So, no fuckin' problem lad. Yea, I'll jus fuckin' listen to ya. Maybe aft'r tha' you can get yer knife and cut me up som' more." He seethed, reaching for the phone again. Panic swept through me and I knew I had to do something.

"JACK NO!" I screamed before I crawled on top of him, pinning him down.

"Seán William McLoughlin, you fucking listen to me right now!" I screamed, tears pouring down my face as I watched him shrink further into the mattress, wincing in pain as I tightly gripped his wrists.