Sweet Dreams

Chapter Three: Schitzo

It was November 9th, 1994, when Luna and I first met. At this point, I had been going to the Dream World for five years. Each day was exactly the same. I'd wake up in a cold sweat at around 3:00 in the morning after trying my hardest not to die in my sleep, then have my mother come in to scold me for not getting out of bed at around 7:00 for school, and I'd never bother to brush my impossible hair. I'd spend less time worrying about little things such as how I looked and how nice I was to everybody else, and I'd spend much more time worrying about whether or not I would die that night. Each day, slowly but surely, I'd transform from that happy-go-lucky kid I used to be into a tired, grumpy, cynical mess.

I'd throw on my uniform, go to school, and get lectured for hours on end during class about stuff I'd never need to know in the future anyways. During the long, dreary, school days, my mind would drift off endlessly, which my teachers would often snap their fingers at me and castigate me for.

The day I met Luna, my teacher was spewing nonsense at me, and I sensed something in the corner of my eye. I turned to look at it, and there was Candy, grinning her terrifying grin. Out of shock, I screamed and fell out of my chair, hitting the ground with a booming thud. Everybody in the classroom stared at me in silence, though some started to hysterically laugh their heads off. I don't think anybody else saw her. I think they all just thought I was losing my mind. I thought I was too, but I could never be sure. I never let my guard down.

The day was long. Everybody would point their fingers at me and laugh, or they'd turn to their friends and whisper something awful to them as if I wasn't right there. I had earned the nickname "schitzo", and I felt even more isolated than I had before. Lunchtime was lonely, though there was one person who'd try to strike up a conversation with me. Her name was Amy Williams, and by "strike up a conversation,'' I mean she'd always be rambling about stuff that I didn't care about, and she'd exasperate me beyond wits end. Yeah, I didn't like Amy too much. I didn't really ever like anybody at all until that night, when I went to sleep.

Before that point, my parents told me they were going out. It was around 7:00 at night. They asked me to hold down the fort, and I complied. As my parents got ready for their date, I went into the bathroom upstairs to rinse my face off with cool water in an attempt to wake myself up a bit. I was exhausted from trying so hard not to sleep every night in fear of Candy's wrath. What the Hell did she have against me, anyways? Sure I was a jerk, but I'm not nearly as much of a jerk as I could have been. Why did she have to go out of her way to make me so miserable? What did I do? Why would she taunt me and horrify me with the idea of her murdering me, and yet wait five years to actually do so? So she could stress me out? So she could make me want to die? Why me?

I asked myself these questions on the verge of tears staring at myself in the mirror of the bathroom sink. I looked at my messy hair, my tired, red eyes, and my pale, sweaty face with hatred. It was pitch black outside. This was the very bathroom I had spent an entire night hiding from Candy in. That was only the first night. I didn't know there would be at least 1,825 more to come. And what if they would just never stop coming? What if 1,825 turned into 2,190, then 2,555, then an eternity? How long would it last before I'd just die? I thought to myself, grimacing at the mirror.

"Not very long." Sang a voice behind me. My insides flipped and my eyes darted to her smiling face in the mirror. Candy's face. I couldn't control myself, and let out a shriek. I turned around, horrified. Nobody was there. I felt my face, cold with fear, start to heat up, and hot tears slipped out of my eyes. I was alone.

Was I really just losing it? Was Candy really going to murder me? Hell, has everything up until this point just been one big dream? Am I mad? I slammed my fists onto the sink and started sobbing with rage. Never have I wanted to die so badly, and yet I was still terrified. Why?