short story about love and nightmares and depression

actual story

January 2nd 2017: I was back again. In the same room, with the same blinding white walls that boxed me in and caged me. Light seared into my eyes. I was scared, knowing what was to come. It was always the same every night; the same scene, the same people. The same, for the past 7 years. The same scene played out every night and exhausted me. But I never told anyone. Why would I? What would be the point?

The walls that confine me collapse unveiling a darkness that I've become habituated to after countless nights of experience. Somewhere amongst the blackness, I'm 10 again and lying on my Star Wars sheets. My LEGO tower leans precariously against the wall. It trembles in response to the chaos hurling down the corridor. The chaos keeps moving, closer, closer to my door, closer to the blackness. Someone screams. She screams again. My door crashes down giving way to a man I had never seen before, yet see every night. His face is masked black and a gun fits perfectly in his gloved hand. He pauses for a second and then positions the gun's barrel at my chest.

That's when I wake up. I am covered in sweat and panting hard, while clutching my sheets. I peek over at my alarm clock and see the light-up numbers say 4:30 am. "Damn!" I exclaim in frustration. I haven't slept well since that night. Seven years have gone by. Seven years, and I'm still not able to shake off that night. I decide to get up, there was no point in trying to get any more sleep as it would probably be nightmare-ridden again. I pull on jeans and a regular black tee and sling a duffel bag over my shoulder. I am going to a ring. A fighting ring, it was the only thing that can help me forget and release stress, apart from cigarettes.

After a few fights, I am less temperamental. I am not as worked up as before and don't feel guilt and sadness gnawing at my chest. I started walking out of the gym, down an old, dark alley making my way towards school. It is 7:30 am by now, I am late but I couldn't care less. The air is pungent with the smell of smoke and the morning whirr of traffic tumbles through the air. I start to bring out a pack and begin lighting, I hear a small crunch. I glance up for a second. It's a girl, about my age. She had long black hair and an alluring, innocent face. There is something mysterious about her, she looks up at me for a second. In her eyes, I see mine. Deep and dark, containing so many secrets, bruises, thoughts. So many emotions, raw real emotions that were so dynamic, they could cascade down her face at any moment. Then I see pain, a bitter, seemingly permanent pain. I want to get to know her, to see why she holds agony she appears to hold. Is she like me? Before I can find out , she turns away from me and begins to walk ahead. I consider following her, wondering if I have finally found someone like me.

I follow her to a dilapidated tower . The windows that are boarded up with rotting wood and rusting nails and an old abandoned fire escape leaning unevenly against the face. As she ascends the fire escape, she pauses for a second, granting me a clearer view of how beautiful she actually is. I can see her strong jaw, full lips, and delicate figure. It is surreal to me how beautiful she actually is. I have a feeling of familiarity when I see her, I think back to the past years and realize that she is a classmate of mine. It is surprising that I have never noticed her before. I'm still staring when her eyes reach mine. I realise I have been seen and begin to panic. She opens her mouth to say something,

"Hey! Why are you following me?"

I gape, stunned. I open my mouth to say something but no words come out.

"Ummm, are you ok?", she says "You seem sick..."

I'm finally able to string a sentence together.

"Hi, um, I'm Enzo." I reply with a weak smile.

"Okay, hi Enzo, but I was asking why you were following me" She says distrustfully.

Damn, she is straight to the point. I didn't know what to say. I want to talk to her and get to know her, but it would be hard if she is so guarded. For the first time in a while, I am willing to start a relationship.