Project

4.0: The Scene of the Crime.

???'S POV:??:??
I awoke gasping for breath after having yet another nightmare, this time more vivid and worrying. I quickly head over to my desk to once more write down every detail -from every person in it to every step taken. I let the dream cloud my vision and move my hand across the paper, enveloping my senses.

I was running, or at least someone was. I kept running and running through the rain and fog, turning left and right, left and right. I was trying to lose something, a monstrous thing. Every step I took, the beast took 4, constantly catching up to me. I could hear its heavy steps racing towards me, its cruel laughter as it gained distance. I, or whoever I was, got more and more scared with every step I/he heard. There was no way I/he could outrun it, I/he could only hope to evade it.

But soon enough my luck ran out.

I had reached a dead end, a brick wall blocking me from freedom, from life. The thing stood there, waiting to see what move I would make, hoping to see me use every ounce of hope in my battered body. Yet I couldn't do anything. Except from one thing, one thing that no one should do. I took out a blade, held it in the air, and said to myself, as the spectator to this horror, "It's up to you now, save it." With one swipe I was gone, the last image I saw being the thing screaming and running towards me. The winding paths, the beast itself, the person I was, it all meant something! I just need to know what.

I opened my eyes once more to see the hasty chicken-scratch that now covered the lined paper, "Great, another dream to add to the collection. Maybe I'll make a story about it someday," I said to myself, or at least what I thought was myself at first, until I turned around and saw a familiar friend standing in my doorway. At first I let out a yelp, freaked out as to why she was standing in my doorway in the first place. Yet soon enough I regained my composure and smoothened my shirt, "May I help you? You know people are very rude these days, not knocking to announce their presence and everything..." She immediately caught my drift, and replied in her calm yet cheerful voice, "Yes, well it seemed you were busy, and I didn't want to disturb your zoning-out time. Another nightmare, I presume?" She asked, knowing fully well what the answer was, but just wanting to make sure I wasn't trying to hide any information. "Yes, but none of your concern." I reassured.

She still stood there, however, with her usual worried expression that she got any time I messaged her 'Don't worry' or told her 'I'm fine'. She made the atmosphere feel quite dark, sad, and (mostly to me) guilty. She knew not to push for further information, I had already told her that it annoys me, yet she couldn't help but ponder my motive for having my secrets. Doesn't she have anything that she wouldn't want anyone to know? Or is it just something people like me do?

She decided to change topics, "What happened with Ridley? I thought you guys usually meet each other, yet now all I hear from him is how he doesn't wish to meet you. Apparently the last time you guys did meet was about a couple months ago, when you started writing. I understand that you may believe that these will come to use at some point, but I have to tell you that it's not helping anyone else."

"It will do. I know for a fact that these will help with the Mystery. I just need to finish it all!" I shout, starting to get more annoyed by the constant worries and repeated conversations that have occurred throughout the weeks. I notice how she now looked at me, scared. I quickly apologise profusely, "Sorry, sorry, it's just that Project wanted me to finish these, and after The Incident I felt as though I had to do these for them." She puts her hand on my shoulder, comfortingly, "I know, but what about you? You're not looking too good now. I know you hate it when I say this, but I worry that you've changed too much; you're not the guy I used to know. Just at least promise me you'll take a rest; your insomnia isn't helping you much, either." I begrudgingly nod my head, knowing fully well that she wants me to talk to her, yet I can't, not yet.