Death Diaries || A Dork Diaries Fanfiction ☑️

Entry 19

Disclaimer: The Dork Diaries series is owned solely by Rachel Renée Russell. This is only a fanfiction -a new take on the books, made for the purpose of entertainment and self-expression. I do not wish to offend anyone, including the author and readers of the book.

Cautionary: This story may be gruesome, appalling, or disturbing to some audiences. Please read at your own discretion.

Dreams (pt.2)

It was suddenly so hard to breathe, I found myself gasping for air as my left hand firmly gripped on my right arm.

I was holding myself back.

I didn't know what I was trying to stop myself from doing. I couldn't fully comprehend what I was feeling —I wanted wail, to throw my hands around frantically, to cry until I'm too dehydrated to even release any more tears.

I continued to stare blankly at the screen, my right hand was starting to go numb from the lack of blood flow. When the TV commercial came on, I was snapped out of my trance and finally loosened my hold.

I felt my palms tingle because of the abrupt surge of blood that entered its veins. I held my arm up to my face to scrutinize the u-shaped marks I left there, it hurt —I almost forgot what that felt like.

Walking to the bathroom, every step felt heavy and I heard every sound my feet made on the floorboards. It was like my senses were so alive and I was hyper-aware of everything around me.

When I looked at myself in the mirror, I found myself twitching. Eyes a little dilated, head lightly shaking with small sharp movements.

So this is what I looked like.

I knew this feeling, my blood pumping, hyperventilating even when I barely did anything —it was adrenaline. The same adrenaline that surged within me when MacKenzie hit Brandon. The same urge that had me lunging at her in spite of the burning in my eyes.

My features were laced with anger. This is what I looked like. Hooded eyes almost like I was exhausted, trembling and out of breath as if I ran a marathon, and pupils that shook in their place.

Bloodlust. Somehow, I itched for slaughter and carnage —I terrified myself. That somewhere within me, there was something sinister and morbid.

I faced down on the sink where my hands held on to the edge, my elbows locked as I forced my eyes shut. I didn't want to look at myself, I couldn't bear it.

I always thought that I was afraid of what others might do to me after what happened, but I was wrong. I'm more afraid of myself and what I can do.

The look in my eyes were that of someone I don't even want to mention —a heartless killer.

If I was able to do that with my eyes closed, I didn't want to know what I could do with them open. It was like some side of mine —a dark, psychotic part— awakened and the gates were now left open. Deranged and unstable, it was free and maybe, though I hope not, will suddenly take control before I can even realize it.

I opened my eyes, only to find my hands coated in the somber red liquid that I never wanted to see again. Moderately viscous and highly pigmented, clinging to my hands until just above my wrist. I didn't feel any pain, I didn't feel a single sting.

Because it wasn't mine.

I quickly turned the tap on and let the cold water wash my tainted parts. I fervently rubbed at my skin, but it wasn't coming off. What is this?

Why isn't it coming off?

They were my sins, reminding me how I can never run from them. How I will carry MacKenzie's death with me to the grave.

How I have become an eminently impure soul and there is no way I can ever go back to being just Nikki Maxwell who so easily disappeared in a crowd.

I rubbed, scratched, and clawed at the blood that only seemed to seep through my skin, drying up despite the water running over it.

I half expected myself to be screaming when my scratching resulted to the burning my hand was now feeling. A small patch of skin resting on the palm of my right hand, a clear indication of how hard, how strongly, and how desperately I've been trying to scrape off what turned out to be nothing but my imagination.

Note: Short because I was like, "Whoa! That's dramatic, let me end it here."