Crono's Story by Traum

Chapter 35 Nikita

The rain beat down on me in endless sheets. Wave after wave of droplets fell upon my hair, upon my face, upon my body. They poured over the blood that soaked my hands, cleansing the skin of the putrid red filth. I was held down in pain, doubled over in an endless embrace with it; unable to move, even though a far greater pain stood over me.

I could not see my attacker, could not hear his words or his laugh, but I felt him, through my heart, through my mind, I could feel his overriding hatred of me. I had no way in which to defend myself, and there was no one to help me, I was alone, again.

I sobbed in agony, my body convulsing in fear and distaste. I didn't want to die alone. Of all the ways I knew I could die, I'd always feared that I would be alone as it happened. The blood pumped forth from my stomach, and onto my hands yet again. The rain continued to strike down upon me, till I could taste the thin liquid within my very soul. I wanted to cry out, to scream for a saviour, someone to be with me as I perished; yet I knew that no one would come.

I relinquished to the pain, allowed it to swallow me whole, consuming the last bits of life that remained in me. I made one last, futile attempt to glimpse my attacker, but my head was struck down again, and I was knocked backwards, and off the cliff that I lay perched atop of. I plummeted down, alone, for a second, my assailant finally making himself audible to me. He laughed. He hollered in joy at my loneliness, at my anguish. The last thing I saw was my blood pour out of my stomach and onto my hands, only to be washed away by even more rain. Then I hit the ground.

It had been a week and a half since we had defeated Yush, yet the dream remained. It was locked within my head like a fortune within a vault. It left me sleepless, tired, and frightened every time I witnessed it. I didn't know what it meant, and I think that's what scared me the most.

I rose up from my bed, and swept a lock of blonde hair out of my eyes, yawning the whole while. I needed sleep, but I knew that any attempt to reach such a state would be futile. The dreams haunted my mind while I rested, like a ghost I couldn't fight, like I didn't want to fight. I got up from my bedstead and headed over to the refrigerator near my room. Popping the small device ajar, I found a drastic lack of edible food within, and made a mental note to go back into the city and pick up some more food later in the day.

I yawned again, and wiped away what little sleep I had in my eye. I went to my dresser, which stood directly opposite my bed, took out some fresh training clothes, and then headed into the small bathroom that accompanied my living quarters. I quickly changed, and then looking into the mirror, found out just how bad my insomnia had become.

Bags lay heavy and impenetrable under my eyes, while my hair was frizzy, tossed, and untameable. I tried to blink away the haunting visage that stared at me through the mirror, with no success. Slowly, tiredly, I patted down my hair, and tied it back into a ponytail with a small ribbon. I shook my head once again before exiting the bathroom and once more hopelessly searching for some food.

Once my hunt had proved fruitless, I told myself to go up and start training again. Maybe that will make me tired enough to go to sleep. Even as I thought though, I knew it was a lie. I climbed the thin, metal ladder that protruded from my bedroom, and found myself in the all-too familiar training room.

I pushed myself out of the open hole at the top of the latter, and sat down on the red tiled floor. I lazily felt around for the lid to the opening, quickly finding it and placing it over the exposed air. I got up from the ground, and began to do some rather easy stretches, making sure all my muscles were well prepared for the mornings' activities.

As I stretched, I noticed a small buzz sound sheathing through the air, saturating my ears with its annoying hum. I realized that it wasn't the gravity machine that was doing it, nor the space pod itself, but it was I. I can't be that sleep-deprived, I thought, partly scared for my own well-being. Even being so, I went on with the stretches, rationalizing that the buzz would go away if I simply tired myself out.