Disturbed

Struggle

Georgia's point of view:

My hands still trembled after hours of sitting on the floor tears repeatedly falling. I felt so broken. The way he touched me, my life in his hand, he could of killed me and that's what scared me the most. What if I had died? The only reason he probably didn't kill me is because he was waiting. He wanted to see me struggle.

Why was this happening to me? I was just curious, I never wanted anything like this. Maybe to be a little spooked out but not for my life to soon be lost. I underestimated him. Just because he isn't alive doesn't mean he isn't powerful, in fact he is more powerful dead than anyone living.

I wiped the tears from my eyes and took in a shallow breathe. I had to be strong. I picked myself from the floor and sat on my bed trying to calm my self down and then the door slammed shut. I curled myself into a ball squinting my eyes shut. "Make it go away, make it go away." I whispered reapitdly. The footsteps got closer and closer but I kept my eyes shut and kept saying my words. It didn't feel like the figure that I was used to. Something in the air told me that this was something different. Suddenly my eyes felt heavy and my mind was fuzzy. Something inside kept forcing me to sleep and in a matter of seconds I did.

I was in a dark jail cell. I sat up feeling queasy. I was in a bright orange jumpsuit like the one I had seen so many people in earlier. Why was I here? A loud scream echoed through the corridor and I jumped up in fright. I walked to my cell door and then the screaming continued. It sound all to familiar. "What the fuck!" I heard a low voice scream. What on earth was going on. The screams mixed in together and they sounded so terrifying. I needed to know what on earth was going on. A monsterous voice knocked me from my feet and onto the cold jail floor. I heard the footsteps run down the corridor and the lights were switched on. The officers were running down to the incident but they was so blind to see the man walking right past them. He hung his head low as he walked past but I instantly knew who he was. The same curly mop on his head and his white t shirt he wore only hours before. Everything then started to make sense and I felt so stupid for not realising before. I was in the same prison I visited early to see Louis. Those screams sounded so familiar because they were Louis. The demon had killed another innocent human. My friend. The only friend I had left.

I woke up drenched in my own sweat. Was that all just a dream? I felt like someone was trying to tell me something. I wouldn't just randomly dream that there had to be a reason. A shiver ran down my spine as I felt a breathe on my neck. "He's sorry you know." An unfamiliar voice whispered in my ear and I quickly turned my head to see no one was there. Who was sorry?