My Roommate: The Untold Story

The Dream

I lay on my bed, drenched in sweat, battling with my restless mind. Sleep eluded me, slipping further away with every passing second. My eyes, though closed, would betray me, flickering open again and again. This wasn't my usual room; I'd been moved here temporarily while my old one remained under investigation. I tried once more, flipping onto my stomach, burying my head beneath a pillow, and desperately willed sleep to come. But no matter how many times I tossed and turned, I remained frustratingly awake.

I gave up, lying flat on my back, staring at the ceiling. As my eyes roamed, I noticed something unusual—small, dark spots forming in the corners of the ceiling. I blinked, rubbed my eyes, and looked again. Were they... moving? Growing? I leaned to the side, studying the dark circle, no larger than a fist, that seemed to pulse with life. Within seconds, it expanded, swelling until it was the size of my head.

The darkness didn't stop there. It kept creeping, inch by inch, spreading like a shadow devouring the ceiling. A cold dread spread through my veins, yet I remained still, transfixed by the sight. The ceiling, once a familiar part of my surroundings, was being swallowed into oblivion. Soon, the walls too were consumed by this relentless darkness. Everything disappeared before my eyes.

I blinked. No ceiling. No walls. Just a void—an endless, suffocating blackness. Panic bubbled beneath my skin, but strangely, I felt calm. Despite the swirling fear, my body didn't move. I looked around, but there was nothing. The world had vanished, leaving only me, stark and bright against the backdrop of perfect black.

Suddenly, the darkness shifted. Colors bled into the void, blurring and swirling into shapes. Slowly, they began to form, creating a scene before my eyes. I could make out roads, buildings, trees. The once-blank canvas came to life with strange, vivid clarity. And there, before me, stood a prison. **The** prison—where Chris was being held.

Without thinking, I began walking toward it, my feet carrying me through the gates as if guided by some unseen force. The air felt heavy with anticipation, but I didn't know why I was here or what I was meant to do. My eyes darted left and right, absorbing every detail. The place felt eerily familiar, though I had never been here before.

As I reached the entrance, the sound of distant screams echoed through the halls. I hesitated. The screams were unnerving—piercing, filled with rage. Still, I pressed on, drawn deeper into the facility. There was no one around, no guards or prisoners to greet me. The hallways stretched on, empty and sterile, until a sliding door appeared ahead. The screams intensified, louder, more desperate. I slid the door open cautiously.

The noise stopped abruptly. Silence fell, thick and oppressive. Beyond the door was not a room, but another corridor—narrow and blindingly white. I continued forward, unnerved by the stillness, when another sliding door caught my eye. The moment I approached, the screams returned, more deafening than before. With a sense of urgency, I threw the door open.

Prison cells. Rows upon rows of them, lining the walls on either side. Each one was packed with prisoners, their faces twisted in anguish. They howled and clawed at the bars, their hands reaching for me like I was some sort of salvation. Their growls and screams grew more frenzied as I passed, and the air grew thick with desperation. They wanted me. They needed me.

I walked down the corridor, their outstretched hands brushing against my shoulders as I tried to avoid them. I quickened my pace, the door at the end of the hall beckoning like a lifeline. They were close now, too close. Fingers grazed my skin, tugging at my shirt. Panic surged, and I broke into a run, slamming through the door at the end.

I stumbled, crashing to the ground. Silence greeted me once more. I pushed myself up, blinking away the disorientation. This wasn't another hallway. I was in a room now—a vast, empty space. In the center sat a man at a table, his head bowed as though in prayer. His white shirt and slacks contrasted sharply with the bleakness of the room.

"Chris?" I whispered, my voice shaky.

He didn't look up. His head remained bowed, his hands resting quietly on the table.

"What do you mean, look what I've done?" I stepped closer, my heart racing. His words, heavy with accusation, sent a chill down my spine. "Did you kill him? Did you kill the janitor?"

Suddenly, he grabbed my arms with startling force. His eyes, wild and full of rage, met mine.

"You brought back the old me!" he roared, his grip tightening. "I was cured! I was okay! But now... now I will never be okay again!"

I struggled, panic flooding my senses. "Let me go!"

Before I could react, I heard it—the sickening sound of something sharp plunging into flesh. Chris's eyes glazed over. Blood dripped from his mouth, pooling onto the table as his body slumped forward, lifeless. My breath caught in my throat.

A man stood behind Chris, a hook buried deep in his back. The man yanked the hook free, and with a slow, deliberate movement, turned to face me.

I knew him. That face... that sinister grin. It was the taxi driver from my dreams, the one who haunted my nights.

He grinned, his voice a low growl. "Watch out for the next name on the list."

I froze, my mind racing. This was a dream. It had to be a dream.

"Who are you?" I demanded, my voice trembling. "Why do you keep appearing in my dreams? What do you want from me?"

The man's face twisted into a mocking smile. He stepped closer, his form morphing, shifting... until it wasn't him anymore. It was Alex, standing in front of me.

"Wake up, Eddy," Alex's voice called out, snapping me back to reality.

I jolted upright, gasping for air. The room was spinning, but I realized it was over—I was awake.

"Why the hell did you wake me up?!" I barked, still disoriented, glaring at Alex, who stood by my bed.

"I've been calling you for ages!" he replied, grinning. "Had to climb through your window like Spider-Man."

I shook my head, throwing the covers off me. "You're crazy!"

"Crazy? Look who's talking. You were trying to get answers in a dream!"

I grabbed my towel, heading to the bathroom. "Why did you come here anyway?"

"We're going to the prison," Alex said. "We're going to see Chris."

I paused, staring at him. "What?"

"You heard me. Let's go."

I nodded, the remnants of my dream still clinging to me.