The Weakest Don't Bow

The Nightmare

Published: January 17, 2020
Word Count: 2285

When you don't know apostrophe rules for names that end with s--

p.s I totally forgot how to write characters how dare I forget--
~~~

'If I can do this, then it'll all be over. I stop the loop that taunts my mind. I can do this.' Mary thought back to when she was trapped. She hated the thought of showing everyone, but to recall those moments to speak out her horrid memories to everyone was worse. She knows how unstable she is at moment, so she figured she would break if she was to ever even think back. Her throat could even sew words together even if she wanted to try and her stomach dropped everytime she thought about it. But this was the time to face it; face her fears. Like Fran, or whatever his name is, said, she can stop this. All she does have to do is show them what the Feeder is, right? Just to show how much it effected her, right? She begged with her whole aching heart that that was just the solution and nothing else.

So because of the lack of memory situation, she has no idea if her drawing will turn out good or bad because she doesn't know if she was talented or not. She sighed with uncertainty as cold sweat ran down her back, making the semi-dried blood moist again.

'Its not even my blood,' she thought again. Bile rose up her throat that burned, but she swallowed it back down. She gathered bit of soot in the tips of her fingers and began to cover the plain tan sheet, tainting it a soft charcoal black.

People still stood at the window, mesmerized by the landscape before them. It almost felt wrong; why would people stare somewhere else when they needed whats inside her head?

No. This is the only way to stop and break the loop, she reminded.

Memories of the Feeder made her shudder. The way the claws were piercing her scalp, sending blood to trickle and electricity running throughout her body, made her hands feel clammy. The wounds still hurt now that she thinks about it.

She kept it up, for minutes at a time, just trying to emphasis the fear she felt. When she stepped back, all it looked like was a blob of spot with an agape mouth. It was a blob yet you could see how skinny it is; it made her form an Uncomfortable rock inside her stomach, as if it was hanging out with Responsibility.

She felt sick again, making her turn and sit down. A sour feeling came at her throat, poking at her as she patted her head to look for the wounds, only to see maroon blood painted in her palm. She wanted to throwing up again. If only she could clear out whatever is in her system. She also really wanted a bath, something to eat and to sleep. Maybe Chant was lying and we really do function like every other human beings. We heal, feel pain, feel hungry along with tiredness.

Her mind boggled and she had to lay on the empty seat, forcing her mind to rest as she laid on the tape. A pounding headache began to bang in her skull with a metal bar, as if someone was banging on metal fencing to call someone out. As the bus jumped and bounced, her head increasingly became pounded with wave after wave of pain struck her. Her nose scrunched up and she closed her eyes and out her hands over her ears to block the sounds but it kept seeping through her fingers. She felt a pair of eyes on her, but she just wanted to sleep the pain away. Sleep. Something you can't do even if you really wanted to. She heard someone walk down the isle, coming closer each step.

"Hey Mary, don't you want--... You alright?" She knew that voice. She looked up and faced Nick, but her head gave her another wave of pain so she laid her head back down, even if the springs scratched her skin. Nick peered over her and leaned back. "You shouldn't have migraines, you're kinda too young for that." She ignored him as he shuffled in his place. Then he caught ahold of the soot stained cloth. "Did you finish?" He asked, he leaned over and grabbed the cloth before taking it and holding it from the tips of the cloth. He gave it a good, long stare. Mary heard a creak behind the seat she was laying down on then she felt eyes trained on her once again. When she turned over and looked up, she caught the stare of a pair of maroon eyes. Although they were the same as everyone else on the bus, she couldn't help but think they were prettier then anyone else's. Immediately, the owners of the pretty eyes looked away, but she was able to hear a quiet mutter from behind the seat.