Destiny

Chapter 4|Hallucinations?

Chapter 4 : "Hallucinations"
Word count: 5866

~>WARNING! This chapter may be triggering for people who suffer from depression, any eds and suicidal tendencies. Although it's an important chapter, if you are easily triggered I advice you to proceed to the next one.
-Kira

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A strangled cry jolts me awake in the middle of the night making me clutch my stuffed wolf tightly to my chest as I sit up on the bed. My room is pitch black as is the rest of the floor and I'm forced to adjust my eyes to the darkness and stretch an ear to hear for any sound similar to the reason of my waking. 

Unnerving silence greets me.

Edging closer to the edge of the bed, I get ready to touch my bare feet to the ground but a whimper makes me freeze. I jump from fright when the small light of the staircase suddenly lights up and a shadow too big to belong to a man is the first thing I see before the familiar feeling of the walls closing in overwhelms me.

My breathing immediately becomes ragged, my hands start shanking, my voice lost in my throat. My small body is curled in the corner of my bed, the only place where the pressure isn't suffocating me, the only place I know harm will come from one direction and only. My sight sharpens, as if the room is well lit and I can see every detail of the thing standing outside my door. I can see its ferocious eyes, its black dirty fur. The teeth and claws that drop with crimson red blood. The fear turns to panic. I'm scared and don't acknowledge the origin of the whimper. My mum. I'm too focused to the beast my eyes have seen time and time again and the walls that keep bending inwards and closing in. My lungs are being crushed and in my blurry line of sight I see more and more come.

Four of them join the "alpha". The strength of the walls is too much for me to fight. They are coming for me, the predator inside them tired of waiting. A hairy arm goes to touch me, the "alpha's" raspy voice ringing in my head. "You can't run away from us."

I'm frightened, and death is the best fate in comparison to the torture these beasts love. I shrink further away from the arm of the lycanthrope, tears running down my cheeks. I glance up to meet the eyes of my murderer and get greeted with the ones that belong to the man I loved as a kid. Daddy...

And so, swallowing hard, I scream.

With a gasp I abruptly sit up, scraping at my throat for air. Cold sweat covers my whole body, the white T-shirt I use for the night is drenched while my hair is a tangled mess from all the tossing and turning. The fluffiest pillow is on the floor, the biggest one at the end of the bed and the one I sleep on, the thinnest one, is wet from the tears I shed during the nightmare.

It's been years since I had the nightmare. Eight years, more or less. They were triggered by the third movie of Harry Potter (yes it's quite tragic) and from the day I watched it and on I had the same dream for years, waking up every night in tears with my Mum consoling me and muffling my cries. It tortured me so much. It wasn't the fact that I was dying or that everyone else met their death, it was the suffocating feeling of the walls closing in. The panic. The loss of control. It was haunting.

But then, they stopped. I don't know what happened, but I like to think I learnt how to master them, control the events and twist the plots till I'm satisfied with the outcome of the stories. Or maybe I simply got over my fear of werewolves. When the nightmare stopped I wanted to sleep all day, to escape from reality and enter dreamland again. A world with my rules. Where there's no mother to tell you what to do, no sister to drive you crazy. It's peaceful in dreamland, or at least it was. The same way it's been years since I've had the nightmare, I haven't had a peaceful sleep in a long time. It's either filled with nightmares, or a black abyss. And well, for the past two years insomnia is an everyday thing.