The Devil Beside Me.

Nightmare.

It was a dark alley. I think it was an alley. I mean it was dark but I could somehow sense it was long. I don't know. I can't see. It was that dark. I couldn't even see my hand. Wait, are my eyes closed??? I think so. It can't be this dark if it wasn't, right? I tried opening my eyes. It would not open. I tried moving my hands, legs, body. It wouldn't move. I tried moving my muscles, but they wouldn't budge either. Nothing would move! Not even a single fiber in my body. I felt numb. I felt like a corpse. I didn't know what was happening around me. My brain was in overdrive. I was thinking too much but I was physically helpless to do anything about it. Someone, or something, pulls my eyelids apart. Light shines. I could not even squint my eyes to adjust to the light. All I could do was to stare ahead till my aching eyes adjusted on their own to the light. When they did, I could see that I was staring at a low hanging ceiling fan. I couldn't look left or right. I could feel my heart beating frantically. I could hear a buzzing noise somewhere near my right. I couldn't identify the sound. It was coming closer. I could feel someone touching me. No, poking me, examining me, fondling me. I feel violated. But I was helpless. There was nothing I could do. The buzzing noise was getting louder. It made my head hurt. I couldn't block out the noise. And then I saw it. A big, gleaming, silver, razor sharp, multi-facet blade. I felt as if my heart had literally stopped working. My mind was practically jammed up. I think I was breathing but I could not see the rise and fall of my chest. Actually, I can't even feel it. I was sweating but that could be because I was already drenched wet. If I was capable of movement, I would either be thrashing about or screaming my heart out. Since both options are ruled out cause of my limited movement; actually cause of my zero movement, I could only panic in my head. The buzzing sound was being emitted by the blade. It took me a while to figure out it was an electrical powered blade. And that, did not make me feel any better nor less panicky. Now, I know what you are thinking; why the heck am I afraid of a blade. Everyone has their phobias. Mine is aichmophobia. Yupp, you guessed right; fear for blades or knifes or any sharp objects. But I ain't a lost cause. I am not going to scream my head off when I see a scissors or a razor blade. I know how to control my fears. The second question you might have is why the heck am I afraid of blades? Well, if you spend a good 3 years of your early childhood dreaming about murdering your family and every single of your loved ones with a sharp blade, I think you will grow weary about it soon enough. Especially if every time you pick up a blade and an unbelievable strong urge pushes you to thrust the knife into the person closest to you. I'll spare you the details about my dreams. Even thinking about it makes me sick to my stomach. Anyway, the blade was coming closer to my face. My heart was pounding so hard that for a moment, it overpowered the buzzing sound. And I heard voices. I thought I had finally lost it. But as I concentrated, I could hear the voices much more clearly. "-head trauma. We need to cut the head off and boil it and examine the skull." Said a gruff voice. "Isn't there any other way?" asked a mouse-ish voice. "No. The girl is already dead. So, stop squirming." the gruff voice said again. Somehow, I knew they were talking about me. It wasn't a hunch. It was a fact. And then, it hit me. But I wasn't dead. I might be brain dead or paralyzed but I certainly wasn't dead. But I will be if they cut my head off. I had to stop them. I can't die this way. Not in a mortuary. I figured it was a mortuary since no other place made sense. I did everything in my power to move any part of my body. Nothing moved. From the corner of my eyes, I could roughly make out two men wearing a surgical mask and latex gloves. Next, I tried screaming. Didn't work either. They were fumbling with the power blade again and finally managed to switch it on. I knew I had to try something small but will get the message across. I tried blinking my eyes. It was my last choice. I tried contracting the muscles around my lower eyelid and forcing my upper eyelid to close. As hard as I tried, it didn't work. The blade was inches from my face. I could feel the hot air emitted from the blades on my cool face. And all of a sudden, a feeling of helplessness washed over me. It was so powerful till it caught me off guard. I had never felt anything like that ever in my life. It was as if I had no reason to continue fighting for my life. I felt useless. It left a hole in my heart that I knew could never be covered. I saw the blade make contact with my skin. I can't describe the sensation I felt at that moment. But the next thing I remember, I was sitting bolt upright with my heart pounding in my chest. I looked down at my fingers and flexed the lean muscles in my body. I had never truly appreciated the working mechanism of my body like I did now. I touched my clammy face and sure enough, it stung. I'm pretty sure a thin visible scar was there. My eyes scanned my dark room for a familiar sight. And sure enough, leaning casually on my study table, was a tall lean blond boy with bright purple eyes. As I clenched my teeth from frustration, he smiled.  

It was bearable at first. I would wake up sweating and screaming because of a nightmare I had. Actually, I have nightmares every single night since the age of seven. And it always happens at the same time. At 12 midnight. Sometimes, I will be thrashing for hours on the bed because I'm unable to wake up. That totally freaks people out. They don't even dare touch or try to wake me up when I have my nightmares. They know its useless. When it first started, people who were unlucky to be beside me would try to help. I would not wake up. In fact, it gets worse. The more people try to help me, the more violent and loud I will get. That scares them. If you can't imagine why people would be afraid of a child having a nightmare, think of "The Exorcist". I wasn't that ugly, but I was that scary. It is a funny thing how innocent pure kids are always the most evil. People try to avoid me during bedtime ever since. That is why I never have slumber parties in my house and why I never attend one. I would love to. But I don't wish to subject my friends to the horror that would come out of it. But my nightmares started becoming worst. They were longer, more terrifying and worst of all, they were real. I wake up with bleeding scars and bruises all over my body. I can only wake up if he wants me to. He in my dictionary is a boy named Draco. Honestly, he is a drop dead gorgeous Greek God look-alike. He technically is one of the closest things that can be compared to a God. If I didn't know the real him, I would have been swept of my feet by his charming demure and dashing good looks. But I do know the real him and it is not a pretty sight. Ever since I struck a deal with his father, Draco has made it his personal agenda to make me suffer, feel pain and to know "what hell on earth" literally feels like. Draco did an awesome job. I don't know what being peaceful is like. Everything sugar, nice and spice, is something I have never have to bother with. Everything people live for, everything that makes life worth living, is not present in my life. The only reason I am alive is because I can't die. Even if I tried committing suicide, I will somehow survive. I haven't tried. But its just something that I know. When I was a kid, around 10 years old, I was involved in a horrific accident. I was run over by a drunk driver when I was crossing the road. But the guy wasn't driving a car, he was driving a lorry. I was thrown at least 10 feet up the air. The doctors said I would not make it. They actually told my parents to make the funeral preparations. I had practically broken every single bone in my body. I was scarred all over my body. I was in massive pain. I was given the strongest drugs to ease the pain. The best part, I was given at least twice the recommended dose for a full grown man. But somehow, I pulled through. I had to go thorough months of physical therapy. But I recovered quickly. Way faster than any other normal human could for the injuries I had suffered. But to be absolutely honest, no normal human could recover fully from that type of injuries. Everyone said I had a guardian angel watching over me. But I knew better, I had the devil's son instead. I am not a coward to end my life just because it is miserable. I also had no intentions to go to hell before my time was up. My motto in life, if life throws you lemons, you find someone who got tequila and salt. But I was a one girl army. There was no one for me to rely on. But that isn't going to stop me. Regardless of how much Draco tries to break my sheer will of surviving, I am not going to give up. I was also afraid that if I did something to myself and succeed, the deal would be off. Bianca, my cousin sister who was the reason I made this deal in the first place, would be dragged to hell with me. If that happens, all my pain and suffering would go in vain. That was unacceptable! I was not going to let that happen. Not now. Not ever.