Plastic Flowers

Nightmare

Surely, last night's events would of caused Eric to sleep good, right? After all, he drank nearly three shots worth of vodka, not to mention took two of his mother's sleeping pills. On top of that, he smacked his head off his floor till he fell unconscious. Though, even if he was fast asleep on his floor, the back of his head barely bleeding onto his carpet, it was far from a peaceful sleep. As soon as he was no longer awake in reality, he seemed to wake up somewhere else. 

It was dark, but not the night kind of dark. It was more like a shadowy twilight, and as Eric opened his eyes and sat up in a daze, he noticed he... was covered in blood. Oh, it was a lot of blood too, and it was gross, and dried, and it smelled terrible. The whole atmosphere spelled like death. He slowly rose from where he was laying, glancing around at the endless black that surrounded him. He shut his eyes tight as a bright white light surrounded him, burning his already hurting eyes. As the light faded, he slowly opened his eyes. He was... in South Park. Near his street. He turned as he heard voiced, heart nearly stopping when he saw Kyle and himself, on their bikes. Was this a flashback? His eyes glued to them, and he suddenly started yelling at the two, trying to warn them. It was obvious he couldn't be heard, like he was some sort of ghost. He followed down the street after them, breath hitching at the moment where Kyle said he was going home. He wanted to close his eyes, but he couldn't. Though, what he saw was completely different from what happened. This version of himself frowned angrily, violently turning his bike and smashing it into Kyle's.

Eric couldn't believe this, the dream version of himself just purposefully drove Kyle into the street. Was... this what really happened? He put a hand over his mouth, having to watch Kyle get hit by that car again destroyed him. He stood there, shaking violently as the redhead rolled over the car and landed on the road. The vehicle that hit him swerved towards Eric, the real Eric, who just closed his eyes, honestly feeling like he deserved to be hit. The car went right through him, like he didn't exist and crashed into that building. He opened his eyes again when he heard laughter, it sounded like his own voice only... distorted. The other version of himself was laughing hysterically, staring at Kyle's broken body in the street, not even bothering to help him. He stepped over to the real Eric, who was frozen in his spot, whimpering softly. "It could of been over with, we wouldn't of had to deal with him anymore if you had just-"

"No! I don't want him to d-die!" Eric combatted, sobbing loudly and shaking. The other version shook his head, red eyes burning into Eric's brown ones. "You do. Deep down you do. He wont love us, he never will, don't you see?" He reached out and touched Eric's shoulder. "It would of been so much easier if we had just killed him-" He frowned angrily. "If you weren't such a fucking pussy, everything would of been fine. Yeah, you would of been sad, but you would of gotten over it." He said, a sharp toothy grin coming to his face. "We'll get another chance, and next time, you better take it." He dug his clawed fingers into Eric's shoulder, for a long moment, Eric was worried, so worried. This wasn't real, it couldn't of been real, right? But if it was in his head, then... this was a part of him. A part of him wanted to kill Kyle. That's what it meant, didn't it? He shook his head, tears pouring from his eyes, whimpering loudly from both the pain in his shoulder and how scared he was. "No, n-no, I'm n-not- I'm not g-gonna... kill Kahl.. I-I wont! I wont kill him! I-"

"Sweetie? Honey, Eric, wake up."

Eric opened his eyes to his mother's voice, he was shaking violently on his side on the floor. At some point in the night he had thrown up, as a puddle of vomit lay next to him. It wasn't a lot but he did throw up some of his food from last night. His eyes blinked tiredly up at Liane, and he whimpered softly. "Mom..?" He mumbled. Liane kneeled to the floor, wrapping her arms around Eric and pulling her son up, gently brushing her fingers through his blood-stained hair. "I'm here honey, what happened..? You have blood on your head, and its on the floor.. I found my bottle of vodka in the bathroom, did you drink it?" She asked, gently rocking him in her arms. It was hard to do because he was a rather big teenager, but she still treated him like a little kid. Eric was scared to tell her that he did. "No.." He lied, his head was throbbing, pounding terribly from everything; the alcohol, which caused a hangover, the head wound he had... which was obviously from smashing his head off the floor. The nightmare that he had, left him terrified, he remembered it so vividly. Liane sighed. "Honey, don't lie to me. I wont be mad if you drank it... Its just not good for you. You shouldn't drink." She soothed, pulling Eric away a little to look into his eyes. His eyes, which were bloodshot and dry from crying, discolored bags lay beneath them. They had been there for so long they were probably permanent by now. 

Eric nodded slowly. "O-Okay..." He looked away. "I.. d-did drink it.. I didn't know what else... to do... I just wanted sleep..." He says sadly, his face twisting into a horribly sad expression. "I think... I think there's something wrong with me.. mom... I don't.. I don't know what to do..." His tone of fear seemed to worsen, and he looked generally concerned. Liane looked at her son for a moment, sharing the same look of concern. She sighed. "Listen, you don't have to go to school today, okay? How about you go get a shower, and I'll make you breakfast. You can tell me all about what's going on. I want to help, sweetie." She leaned forward and kissed Eric's forehead. "I'm sure everything will be alright," She slowly stood, helping Eric to his feet from the floor. "But, I think I should take you to the doctor, for your head. It looked like it really bled." She added softly, cupping Eric's cheek with her hand. "I'm going to go make you breakfast, just come down whenever you're ready, alright?"

Eric nodded, watching his mother leave the room. The brunette grabbed a change of clothes and slowly made his way to the bathroom. He had to admit, even with the hangover and pounding headache, he still felt better than yesterday, with the sleep he had gotten. He set his clothes, which were just sweatpants and a cat sweater, on the back of the toilet. He discarded his sweat covered clothes, which also smelled of vomit, and got into the shower. The warm water was comforting, even though it stung as he washed the dry blood from the back of his head. When he turned, glancing down at the bloody water washing down the drain, he suddenly felt sick. It was the most intense feeling of sickness he had sworn he had ever felt, his hand went over his mouth, the other on his stomach. He tried to hold back, he didn't want to puke, he had already thrown up in his sleep, plus he was in the shower. It was just gross. But the hand on his mouth quickly left, as he doubled over, holding his stomach as he started heaving, not being able to hold back. He naturally shut his eyes when he felt liquid come up, though it didn't feel like food. When he opened his eyes he was shocked to find the same thing came up as did at the hospital... bloody fucking rose petals. 

The sight made Eric want to get away, he backed up into the shower wall, gagging slightly because it seemed not all of it came up. He leaned over, making a loud spitting noise as a few more rose petals fell from his mouth followed by a bit of blood. He noticed that this was way more than at the hospital, at least twice as much blood, if not more. At this point, either he was still dreaming, or he was going insane, those were his conclusions. He watched, eyes wide, as the blood mixed with the hot water and slipped down into the drain. The rose petals collected there, the drain too small to swallow them up. He honestly didn't want to touch them, but his mind came across the thought; what if this was real? If it was, if he left the petals there, his mother would surely see them, and then ask. How does he explain throwing up rose petals? Though, maybe he really was just hallucinating, and what he threw up was just his normal stomach contents. Maybe his mother wouldn't notice them. He stepped forward, trying to force them down the drain with his foot, but it didn't work. He shivered, they felt like real rose petals, as if he picked a rose and tore the petals off and ate them. He decided that he would just ignore them, finish showering, and flush them down the toilet after he was done. So, that's what he did. Though, throughout the entire length of his shower, his thoughts were swimming. 

What's going on?

Am I going crazy?

What am I going to do...?