16- umbra

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It's just a dream. A dream. Just a dream. Nothing to worry about. Just a dream.

I wake tied up, tied to a chair. When I move, I feel the rope burning into my skin, like how it feels when you get nail polish remover in a cut. A figure lurks in the umbra of the shadow. No. This is my worst nightmare, Nyctophobia. The only thing distinguishing the person from the wall is a colour, a brown against grey, muddy brown, almost red. My brain decides to stop autopiloting my breathing, leaving me to mess with speed, and depth. This is what a panic attack feels like.

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