The blinding lights flashed at me, momentarily blocking my vision as I push my way past them. Loud music slipped in and out of my ear canal alongside the lyrics being screamed by a crowd of drunken celebrities, each face visibly recognizable. I didn...
There was one singular light bulb swaying above connected onto a string. There were no fans or windows but it still swayed from some unknown force. All it did was flicker and produce a dim light that was in no way helpful to the eye.
The room smelt of musty water and if you looked closely in the corners there was mold growing. A red velvet couch was the only thing in the room that was placed in the middle of the 8x8 space. There really was no space to walk.
And for some reason I was there as well, just laying horizontally on the couch. I'm not sure why I was there or how I got there. All of a sudden the light went out causing the room to go pitch black.
Squinting my eyes, I lean forward and glance around in hopes of even one beam of light. A cluttering noise happens nearby causing my heart beat to pick up in pace. The light flickers on and a figure dressed in all black stands a foot away.
Standing up I walk closer to it, seeing a knife in the hand of the figure covered in blood. My brows furrow as I go to touch the hand but am instead pushed back down onto the couch. They take a step forward towards my body lifting the knife up underneath my chin.
My eyes widen in shock as the hood falls back from the person and it's not at all who I expect, Pete.
I awake with sweatness covering my face, darkness floods around me due to the curtains being closed shut. There's a rustle next to me and Pete's upper half rises as he leans on his elbows. His eyes were still half shut from being half asleep.
"What's wrong? Are you okay?" He groggily asks.
"I'm fine, it was just a bad dream." I shake my head as I feel a wetness drip down my face, sweat. Looking over at him I notice he's already slumped down and fallen back asleep. Getting out of bed slowly, I quietly make my way out of the room and sneak into the guest bathroom.
The lightbulbs surrounding the mirror flicker on casting a dull yellow tone onto my pale skin. As I look in the mirror what sticks out most against me is the dark eye bags and the hair sticking to my face due to the sweat.
Turning the faucet on the water gushes at, collecting a puddle in my hands I splash it onto my face. The cool water hits me instantly making me wake up but the dream still lingers in my head.
Why was it Pete? Why did I dream about Pete murdering me? I've had these types before involving him but he's never killed me. The sound of gushing water continued to flood around the room so I quickly turn it off to save it, we were in the middle of the desert of course. After it was turned off the whole house was dead silent assuming of course that everyone was sleeping.
There was no point in trying to go to sleep now.
I head back to my room quietly sneaking back in so I wouldn't wake Pete again. Grabbing my phone off of the nightstand, I sit down at my desk and turn on the lamp that barely lit up anything. My phone turns on from being touched and it reads, 3 am. Great.
A notebook rests on the desk that looks as if it hasn't touched since the last time I was here. Grabbing it I flick through the pages and look at all the sketches I used to do in high school, when I actually enjoyed drawing. Biting my lip I stare down at the numerous mushrooms, eyes, and even faces that I used to obsesses over drawing in the middle of class.
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