DREAM JOURNAL

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Dream : Don't kill Austin, make him kill himself.

Its Wednesday, September 19th. Austin wakes up, feeling extremely depressed. He doesn't know why. He thinks to himself that its probably because of the nightmare. He tries different things to cheer himself up, but none of them seemed to be working. The sadness doesn't seem to end. He gets more depressed by the minute. 

He stays at home. He tells Petra he's not feeling well. Petra tells him to take some rest. Petra gives him a goodbye kiss on the forehead. Then she leaves.

John has already left for school.

No one's home. Everybody's out. Except Austin.

He smiles to himself.

A thought strikes him. He goes to the kitchen.

Silently, carefully, he takes up the kitchen knife.

Something takes over him, and he starts stabbing himself, repeatedly with the knife. At first he jabs it into his stomach and chest. His chest hurts terribly but he keeps stabbing and jabbing. His field of vision shrinks to a tunnel.

He stumbles sideways and falls to the floor. The floor beneath him feels slippery.

With what little energy left, he stabs the knife in his face. A sense of unreality is spinning in his head. Shock and and abstract sense of dislocation blur with the precise and intimate feeling of being cut in the face.

The blade enters his neck and chest and face again. It feels to him as if the blade is alive now, stabbing him continuously as he makes his way into the oblivion. His lips and cheeks fill with warmth and pain.

And then, he lets go. He feels content amidst the anguish, as he feels the life leaving his lungs.

His lifeless body lies on the floor. He looks exceptionally beautiful with the sunlight falling at an angle on his face. His blonde hair is soaked in his blood.

What, then? I decided to take up my diary and write this shit down here cause I don't think there's any other way I could've dealt with this. Writing this down feels relieving. The urge is now slowly fading and I'm holding on to this pen and this diary for dear life cause if I let go, I'll take up the knife again. I DON'T WANT THAT.

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