Pfffff
I can totally get this up before midnight
Thank you for the pen, blox. Apologies if its smoking a bit when you get it back, because I plan on writing this at the speed of light.
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Mitch's POV
We can't save him, Mitch. There's too many.
Yeah, well, sorry, but your brother is already gone.
I have someone who could do an even better job. Might even throw in some torture, if I allow it.
Sorry, dearest, but I tend to be a bit more physical than the master.
This is more like it.
Are you okay?
Me? I want to rip out your intestines and watch the light slowly fade from your eyes.
You gonna kill good ol' Adam?
Sorry. Doesn't. Cover. It.
I screamed and thrashed desperately, panic overriding all sense. It took a moment for the splitting headache to fade and for me to realize I was still alive and not in minecraft.
I hopelessly entangled in sweat-soaked sheets, and I sighed as I took in the state of them. I would have just let them, but my shirt was also sticky and there was no way in hell I was sleeping again after that.
After a minute of blanket wrestling, I freed myself and lowered my feet down to the carpeted floor. Padding quietly across the room, I snagged a water bottle from my desk and downed it in one go. The old shirt was strewn aside in favor of a clean one. A splash of cold water on my face helped to revive me.
When I looked up into the mirror, however, a sinking feeling grew in my stomach. I looked like shit, to say the least. Dark circles encompassed my eyes, setting off how bloodshot they were. A sheen of sweat still clung to my forehead, and my freckles shined severely off the paleness of my skin. I groaned and leaned over the sink, gagging slightly. God, I could still hear Connors screams.
I pushed away from the sink and punched the mirror, cracking it the the middle. Pain lanced through my arm as I did it, and I knew I was going to have a serious bruise, but I didn't care. I didn't want to see what was in the mirror.
I hadn't gotten one good nights sleep since we got back. Nightmares sent me screaming back to reality, and the terror kept me from going back to sleep.
I sunk back onto my bed, groaning slightly as I pressed down on the newly forming bruise. It ached, but not enough. I sighed and flopped back against the pillow, pulling out my phone with the thoughts of mindlessly browsing social media for a few hours.
There was the familiar click of my lock screen, and I clicked on my twitter icon. My notifications were overflowing, so I figured now would be as good a time as any to answer a few.
An hour ticked by, and then two. My eyes were growing heavy, but I persistently kept scrolling. They fluttered for a second, and the dark sorcerer was watching me.
I sat bolt upright and threw the phone across the room. It cracked against the wall, bouncing off it and hitting the floor screen up. It was still on, and the face of the dark sorcerer flickered once on it before flashing red and then going black.
When the sun finally came up that morning, I slowly slid off my bed. The phone was exactly where it had been, but the screen was badly damaged. I couldn't resist stepping on it and grinding my heel into it as I walked out of the room.
No need to tell anybody else I'm seeing things. I was tired, it was late. Nothing to worry about.
