Villains ➵ bill skarsgård a.u.

seventeen

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I forced myself to wake into reality, my eyes greeted by the endless abyss currently occupying each corner of my room, no light in sight except the one coming out of the crack underneath my door. Sweat dripped on the corners of my temples and my neck even though the air was freezing, my cheeks stained with what seemed to be tears. I have been crying in my sleep again. I wanted to hit myself to feel physical pain instead of the one going on inside my chest, but I was already suffering from a broken bone, I didn't want to add another one, and certainly Uncle Ron wouldn't like it if he found another damage that he would have to fix.

I took a deep breath, placing a hand over to my face as the other reaches for my beside table, blindly searching for the lamp string in the dark. Once I've found it I turned the lamp on, instantly illuminating the entire room with yellowish white light. I sunk back onto my bed, listening to the pounding of my heart. Jesus fucking Christ, it's been two nights now that I've been having nightmares, I'm beginning to think they're a side effect of the painkillers. Last night it was about Sarah; and now this. Of all people; Hannah. It just had to be her for some reason, because my head can't get enough of the sweet guilt of having to dream about her.

That wasn't the first time that I've dreamed about her of course; there were plenty of other times. Especially back when I just found out about their death. Every night my dreams would always be about them, and what they probably saw just before their hearts stopped beating underneath the water, isolated inside Connor's car; and I would wake up to myself crying, sweating and out of breath. Even so, nobody knew. I've never told anyone about the things I've dreamt about and how much they affected my sanity. Not even Georgie or Jumper. It even got to the point where I would have to slap myself to get back to reality. I was having the same difficulties right now. As stared onto the light bouncing off the ceiling, I could still hear her voice inside my head; telling me to check for monsters under my bed.

I've nearly completely forgotten the sound of it lately from everything that has been going on in my current life. I've imagined it, but I never knew it would feel this miserable to hear it again. I should've told her what I wanted to say while I was hugging her. I know I wouldn't be able to bring her back even if I kill myself right now, but the little bits and pieces of her and my father left in me always made me want to follow them to their grave.

That used to be an inside joke between Hannah and I; the monsters hiding under my bed preparing to prey on me after all the lights are turned off. Now that I've realized; my sick childish imaginations never really left me as the years went by. I still had it in me; and perhaps it'll never leave. My father didn't believe in such things but she did, and even though it was ridiculously immature, Hannah comforted me every night with the assurance that I was completely alone, and nothing was stalking me beneath the cushions. It had helped me sleep through nights of darkness inside my old room, and ever since I yearned for that kind of comfort even though I know I'm never going to get it again.

Nowadays I've had spontaneous urges to check under my bed just so I could calm the bees whispering in my head, but I thought it was too childish. Nevertheless, ever since Hillside Cross Station and the incident yesterday where I found a guy from across the street, literally just watching me enter our home, I'm beginning to get convinced that it's not all just in my head. Maybe I am insane, perhaps years of self harm and torture has finally got to me, and everything that has been happening only increased my insanity. What else would've caused that repulsive monster to appear in my dreams? Clearly there's something wrong. I know there is I can feel it, and pretending that there isn't wasn't going to help.

I sat up, running my fingers through the tangles of my hair. My door was still closed and everything was the way they were before I have slept. Part of me wanted to sink back into my dreams so I could be with Hannah again, but at the same time I get shivers everytime I try to think of the creature under my childhood bed. Just the thought of him; his eyes and the entirety of his burnt skin, and the way he initially appeared as black smoke. I could still feel the horror of being under his gaze. I tried to drag myself away from my thoughts, distracting myself with the picture of my friends in my home screen before I run to the bathroom again and almost cut myself. However I couldn't, and I found myself floating back to my nightmare.