Nightmares (Short Stories)

Hope

It happened again. I knew it would, but for some asinine reason, hope had clawed its way back into the very dark pits of my soul and wouldn't let go. Of course the first thing to come at me as soon as the act registered in my brain were the chest pains from the impending panic attack and ensuing breakdown of my sanity for another unknown amount of time.

Last time this happened, I needed up in a psych ward for three months with heavy meds administered daily and a lovely addiction to many of them. Two years. That's all I had gotten before I was swept up into a fantasy of a happy ending only to be broken once again.

No one knew what really happened last time except for the monsters, my ex-therapist and me. Had I actually told her everything... no. So honestly she didn't know. She knew enough to get me out of certain treatments I was about to get, but other than that, she was just as clueless as everyone else. Who would admit to being preyed upon to the point they were in a mental hospital?

I let that sack of shit sneak up on me and it was my fault. I knew better. Always watch your back since no one else will. Years of people letting me down have taught me that lesson enough for it to actually stick, well most of the time.

Here I am, on the ground, curled up like a pill bug trying to escape reality once again. This is not even close to the first time this has happened and it just keeps getting worse and harder to come back from hence the stint in the "special care facility" I was a "guest" at last time.

I didn't want to go back. The chances of me making it out again were slim to none. Not after this shit show was live broadcasted on Friendchat Live. I would never live down the stares that would come my way, the looks of pity, the fake sympathy I will inevitably get. If only I had watched my back. If only I had not walked down this fucking street. If only I had not worn such a nice suit. If only... so many things I could have changed and maybe had stopped this from happening. Maybe. I will just have to make sure that I don't walk at night, alone or even with someone stronger than me. I will have to make sure that I dress in a way that makes me look undesirable. No more name brand clothes. No more NRGlink watch. Nothing to attract any attention. I thought I had toned down my look. I no longer styled my hair or wore anything that didn't cover every inch of my body except my head and neck. I never wore shoes I couldn't comfortably run in and threw out all of my pants that wouldn't allow me a full range for my gait while trying to run and jackets so I could fully move my arms.

Judo and other martial arts lessons had helped my fears and somewhat interact with society again, but I should have known better. Everyone knows who I am, the son of William Thorsson, III, Trojan Thorsson. Pictures of me were everywhere thanks to dear old dad owning half of the world at that point. Being the youngest of six brothers, I'd thought would give me an edge on anyone who attacked me, but I was wrong. 32 years old and I can barely function around people.

The first attack I remember was by my uncle, Sven. The man was famous for donating money to needy causes and inventing the new Kronik Cycle. Apparently it was the drug that helped addicts not be addicts. Unfortunately, it doesn't work on 100% of the population as my doctors found out.

The man was beloved by everyone. My brothers always wanted to spend their weekends with Uncle Sven, the lover of fun. I did too until I turned 13. Being a late bloomer just meant I was a bit taller with the hairless body the resembled a naked mole rat so Sven kept telling everyone. The jabs started to hurt more and more as he would rough house with everyone else and laugh with them and all I got was distance and a little sneer.

Thinking the guy hated me, I stayed away. Apparently, that was the worst decision. The night of Ivan's 16th birthday, Sven took us all to the Philippines. I was excited to not get left out and just tried to stay away from him as much as possible. The boys and my parents fawned over Sven and his generosity all weekend while I just tried to see the sights and play off to the side. Cameras were everywhere capturing the joy on everyone's faces. I had perfected the "public image" I was supposed to uphold and kept up with all the ridiculousness around me.