I woke up

and the rapid pounding in my chest... was only matched by the rain pounding on the window. not a motel window though. a familiar window. that came with a familiar room. that brought with it a familiar... weight... in the bed beside me. i was... so scared to move. scared to disturb whatever it was that now surrounded me. scared... to turn my head and see something far different than what all the familiarity was trying to suggest. i was scared... even as that voice came. asking if i was okay. groggy. as if i’d shared my abrupt awakening. and i... couldn’t respond. i couldn’t say anything. just the voice tore at my chest so much. so deep. so sharp. it was too much. too much to believe... even as i felt that weight shift. those familiar arms curling around me in just that certain way. just that certain manner. that certain touch and scent and i wanted to embrace it back but... i was so scared...

i didn’t want to shatter it.

i could only... listen to the small smile flirt on the edge of my spouse’s voice as i was teased for having too active of an imagination. that my dreams turned that gift against me. and i felt... lips brush a kiss to my cheek...

a cheek that was soon traced by a tear.

the flirt was abandoned as worry took control. saying my name. saying it like no one ever does anymore. or ever should. just that way... that made love go without saying. our love. our devotion. and it only made the tears fall faster as i buried my face in my hands. shaking. refusing to look. refusing to allow myself the chance to get sucked into the lie. sucked into the joke, whoever’s it was. and i... begged... to be left alone. i begged for mercy. i begged... for the exact contrary of what i wanted so bad. for the delusion to shatter...

i couldn’t handle losing Alex again.

i cried as i retreated into myself. drawing into myself. telling myself it was a lie. repeating it over and over. that they were dead. that they were both dead...

Alex took my hands from my face... and kissed my lips. gentle and slow. and there was nothing left to stop me from drowning in those eyes so blue. and it was in those eyes that i listened as Alex reassured me. reassured me that i was home. that i was safe. and so were they. that it had been a nightmare. and when i still doubted, Alex threaded our fingers together and pulled me from the bed. leading me down the hall to Leo’s room. cracking the door open just enough... to see that mess of unruly hair sticking out from the covers. the rise and fall of steady breathing being the only movement at all. far away and dreaming...

and i was starting to pray to anything that would listen... that that’s what i had done. that that’s where i had been. far away. throwing blood splatter after blood spatter upon the canvas way down deep in my mind...

i lost my knees in front of that room. sinking down to the floor. hands trembling so hard... and it was with them that i clung to Alex for life and sanity. and i was clung onto in return. i could sense the confusion and worry... gnawing at Alex as i came apart right there in the hallway... all the pain and torment and loss i’d suffered... and made others suffer... running through my mind all at once...

that was the first... and last... night terror i had.

i returned... to my name. my real name.

i returned... to school. teaching. embracing the future’s brightest...

i returned... to normalcy. friends. family. home.

the Nightmare was forgotten.

Life... just went on.

years flew by.

Alex and i earned enough between us to help pay for Leo to attend Law School. last time he had come home to visit, he shown Alex and i the ring he’d bought for the love of his own life. Hannah. shy girl, but bright. dreamed of being a novelist and having a family...

Laura... was thinking of becoming a teacher. like me. even tutored other classmates in high school. she grew up so fast. it was a complete whirlwind... and suddenly she was stepping down the stairs in high heels. looking so beautiful in her pretty pink prom gown. just like a princess ready for the ball. she had herself a nice boy. Thomas. ambition to become a professional chef and someday own his own restaurant fueling his fire for life and success. a little rough around the edges, but loving. very much so.

my little girl... who wasn't so little anymore... had called home from her prom party. said she’d forgotten her camera and asked if i could drive it down. i teased her for having Alex’s memory... even as i grabbed the keys. kissing Alex on the forehead before heading out to the car.

the drive was nothing. i was stepping out into the parking lot at the hall in no time at all, but... something felt... strange. something felt wrong. i felt nervous and i couldn’t explain why. something inside was kicked into overdrive and it left my head buzzing. i tried to ignore it. started walking towards the building but... a motion behind a dark van caught my eye. everything in me... screamed to leave it. to pretend it was just a stray dog. to pretend i'd seen nothing and continue on... that i didn't... want to see what was there... but i couldn’t. i couldn't. i turned away from the school... and went to investigate...

i heard... strange noises as i neared. wet sounds. spits and splats. and, even though i saw the mass of blood before i even made the turn... i couldn’t stop my feet from moving around the van. moving me... to reveal a pale young man in a disheveled suit. red tie. crouched over a human body sprawled on the pavement. a girl. a very pretty girl. in a pretty pink prom dress. hacked and slashed and.... and clawed open. her bowls bulging out as... this... boy... tore another handful of flesh away and brought it to his mouth. eating it. eating her. my girl. my sweet, little girl. and i screamed. and those eyes flashed up to me and i swore that... he seemed... familiar...

long, pale blonde hair with pale blue eyes.

he grinned a bloodied grin at me.

and bolted down the alley.

i just... kept screaming. i screamed until someone heard. i screamed until someone called 911 as i cradled the shredded remains of my daughter in my arms... as i whipped the blood from her cold face with a trembling hand...

they never caught him.

Leo dropped out of Law school. disgusted with how uselessly it was bound in red tape. took to doing private work. came across the wrong people at the wrong time. started drinking heavily. started doing drugs. was arrested several times. assault. possession. DUI. assault with a deadly weapon. assault of a police officer. Alex and i... tried to send him to a rehab center. i told Alex it would be for his own good. that we had to be tough. that he NEEDED us to be tough to get him away from his damn dealer who only went by the name ‘Sherlock’.

he hung himself with the sheets of his room.

Alex blamed me.

one night, i came home late. wandered up the stairs. i could hear... what i was walking into, but i felt so... numb... so cold... i just... i was just going through the motions. i gently pushed open the door to our bedroom and saw a man with my spouse. scars all over his body and flashing a switchblade over Alex’s skin. cutting and thrusting and... HAVING even inch of Alex... who's wrists were tied to the headboard with a red torn shirt... my Alex... who seemed... far from against any of it... judging by the moans to go rougher...

i closed the door and walked back down the hall. a hall that seemed so dull and lifeless as it shifted and swayed in front of me... until there wasn’t a hallway. there was only stairs. stairs that my foot missed... and i fell. cracking against the steps and walls with such sheering pain that almost felt good amongst the chill in my chest... just before the sudden jolt of hitting the floor of the dining room...


I woke up.


and it was blinding white. burning blistering white. a white that was everything and nothing amongst a void of drifting whispers and muffled, rattling wheels. rattle tattle rattle across the smooth smooth floor that echoed and echoed down the endless labyrinth of white and rattling and screaming ScReAmInG SCREAMING that doesn’t stop will nevers top...

Because He Comes.

the DARKNESS amongst the blinding white. He Comes. ever still. ever silent. comes and comes and comes and the screaming gets louder and louder and louder as He picks His prey. eenie menie minie moe. catch a Runner by the toe...

but no where to Run when the doors are locked, yes?

so He comes. and comes. and comes. and comes. and marie’s guts are splattered over the walls and ceilings and they say i did it but i don’t remember that. i remember watching. i watch because if i don’t it’ll be my guts on the floor....

First they came for the Socialists. And I said nothing because I was not a Socialist.

jake disappears into thin air. orderlies in trouble for that one.

Then they came for the Trade Unionists. And I said nothing because I was not a Trade Unionist.

then daniel.... daniel daniel daniel... walked right up. walked up and stood before Him. i saw. many of us did. he stood and stared back into the DARKNESS as it stared into him... until daniel crumbled to the floor overtook by a seizure. jerked so hard he broke his own spine poor bastard. we all heard the snap and the scream and scream and SCREAM and Luke was blamed for that one. silly really. such a small frail boy. how would he have the strength to wrench that head all the way around 360-like? how would any of us? doped up as we are?

sane people are idiots.

Then they came for the Jews. And I said nothing because I was not a Jew.

He turns His head to me. tilting. to the side. bizarrey so. scares me. scares everyone. we just don’t talk about it. He is DARKNESS. meant to be Feared. menat to be. meant to NOT be. not be understood. not be not be just BE. meant ot meant to meant to be the shepard of the DAMNED damned damned damned in a circus of white circus of pretend of make believe of illusions and deception and LIES. fake walls fake doors fake everything fake fake fake only HE is real... until He isn’t anymore. until the RED bleeds in covers me suffocates me in blood. rivers of it. lakes and ponds and oceans and seas of blood RED that’s ever growing. ever expanding its reach...

and then He came for me.

and my screams echoed

and echoed

and echoed

and echoed...


I woke up.


and Morningstar is on me. jumped on me and pinned my wrists back with that beaming grin of his. tisk tasking me for oversleeping. said we were going to be late for the meeting. enjoying the fact i let him pretend he has the upperhand when we both know otherwise. when we both know i could reverse the positions so easily. when we both know... with just a handful of carefully chosen words... i could crack that lovely, playful skull of his open and leave him a gibbering mess. such was my gift...

i shove him to the floor and proceed to don my usual wear. ducking out the door with Star in hot pursuit. swearing he’s going to gut me when he catches up...

i thought he was kidding.

when he follows me into the meeting room... a rock turns to ice in my stomach as i hear the lock click into place. the room is lined by faces. familiar and not. a tension hangs, but i know not why. the stares upon me showing nothing but rage, betrayal... and intent.

they accused me of being a traitor.

they accused me of being a spy.

for Moriarty.

they said i’d been seen with him. discussing things with him. exchanging a suitcase for a bag in some little piece of nowhere. they accused me of selling out my own. of helping him kill off agents. proxies. one by one.

i denied it all. it was ridiculous. outrageous. it was a damn LIE and they should all know me better than that...

but they don’t listen.

i fought at first, but i was... far too outnumbered. they grabbed me. pinned me down to the floor with a fogged mind and broken nose. not bothering with restraints since there were... enough of them to hold me how they wanted me. so i’d know... i could fight back. i could get away. if i was stronger. if i could just get one of them to slip. and i do try. i try my best to. even as they pulled my tongue from my mouth. placing a blade beneath it. pausing. then cutting it off in an spray of blood... a piece that Morningstar happily cooked and consumed as another proxy took a pair of pliers... and began pulling out my teeth. one by one. until i was choking on blood and my jaw was exploding in agony. in too much pain to even scream...

next they... grabbed my head and pinned it to one side. The Butler placing a knife by my ear... before, ever so slowly, pressing it in. the metal cutting its way deeper and deeper until my head was ringing and i tried to scream past the blood but the pain suddenly exploded into a single POP inside my skull. there was a hot rush of blood gush from my ear and down my neck... and then they turned my head to the other side and did the same. a deafening void sucked me in. there was no sound anymore. just a sea of grinning faces... before Morningstar came and sat on my chest with a spoon in hand. saying something i couldn’t hear... before pulling my eyelid open. i couldn’t move. i could only watch as the metal came near. was pressed under my eye. curved back. and ripped out. half the world went black with a spray of crimson... and then the other half followed suit shortly after.

i couldn’t see. i couldn’t hear. i couldn’t speak.

but i could still feel.

i could feel the blood. i should have been dead or close to it... but no. i was more than alive still. more than aware. more than feeling as the blades started to get to work on my flesh. peeling off my skin. exposing muscle and tissue until i felt fingers claw into my stomach and i felt... i felt every piece ripped from me in a flood of pain and hot blood. i felt every hand. every movement. every mutilation. until i thought i’d still feel this agony even when reduced to a skeleton...

in that sea of darkness and silence and agony... i thought... i could still hear the echoes of their laughs... all those grins... spread far too wide...


I woke up.


or perhaps i hadn't been asleep at all. just a drifting mind in the endless rotation of events. endless faces bringing endless promises of change when all they offer is repetition. routine. day after day. year after year. decade after decade until the centuries roll out one by one...

upon the table. the coin spins.

heads or tails.

just heads or tails...

darkness bathes me. nearly swallowing me whole. the stillness near suffocating, but it doesn't matter. never has. never will. the darkness is no more threat to me than bullet or blade. just a thing. a thing of the mortal world. unlike me.

me.

the truest joke.

tails

there is no 'me'. not anymore. there is only the shell of 'me' left. a putrid mix of blisters and boils and pus. not but tattered rags of cloth pretending to be clothing. unlike their wearer. who gave up pretending a long time ago. pretending to have place. purpose. meaning. use.

i just spin the coin again

The Plague wills me. so i am. as is my punishment. my punishment for trying to escape. for tricking Him into the Tall One's way. The Sickness came back for me. took me. claimed me. sealing me into the Crumbling Castle. for decades i was amongst the Afflicted. for decades... my flesh swelled and broke and weeped with disease and plague and yet... death never came. death wasn't allowed. not for me. never for me. for decades the Castle was my prison...

and now the world is.

heads

now i am a walking plague. as He wills me to be. just a wanderer. a stranger passing through. leaving death in my wake. just as He wills it.

the rats stir within me

a heat comes

amber eyes grinning out from the darkness

heads

a figure melting into place on the chair across from mine. table between.

i just spin the coin again

valtiel bumped the table with a too-wide grin spreading wider. greeting me as my coin fell prematurely. the heat he brought with him nothing compared to the fever that boiled in my flesh already... even as i feel whiskers and teeth on my neck. gnawing. tearing. just one of the rats. one of the many from His Realm... who live inside  that very same flesh...

just another spin

valtiel stays for hours. talking to me. taunting me. pulling names and faces into my mind that i don't remember anymore. that are little more than ghosts. faint whispers of lives wasted from times so long ago...

heads

but it doesn't matter

tails

nothing does

heads

i talk to him. only to feed that emptiness

heads

only to feed along my Eternity

tails

as i come to realize

heads

how long

tails

forever is

tails

and valtiel just keeps...

heads

smiling at me...

tails

bumping the table...

I woke up.


i was on the floor. my head was pounding and i... i didn’t know where i was. it was a small room. like a closet. dark and dusty. i could feel the blood running down the back of my neck, but i forced myself to my feet. staggering, but making it. i thought... it seemed familiar...

and then i heard the grinding sound of a cabinet being pushed across the floor... the rattling scream of friction... and the hard BANG of a weight hit against the only door in the room with such force i thought it might break through. but it doesn’t. because it didn’t. and i hear... a voice muttering on the other side. whispering something i can’t... i can’t make it out... but i know who it is.

i shout Owen’s name.

i run to the door and try to force it open , but it won’t budge. i slam my fists against the wood. screaming for Owen not to do this. not to LISTEN to that damn Creature. that it was Evil and manipulating him and he needed to stop and think this through logically. that It WANTED to turn us against each other. It WANTED to darken the human soul to MUTILATE it until we are indistinguishable from It...

but he doesn’t listen.

because i didn’t.

and i smell gas. i hear... the ominous crackle of flames that soon goes to a roar and its so hot so searing the heat coming like WAVES. i keep yelling. keep beating on the door. hoping someone will hear me. someone will notice. hoping Owen will come back... even as i’m coughing on smoke. even as the fire breaks through the wall... and catches on the gas on my clothes. and i’m screaming. screaming until i feel blood burst from my throat as the flames take me in whole like a living torch...


I woke up.


and i’m on a bed. there’s someone else in the room, but i know already who it is. i try to stay quiet. try to pretend i’m still sleeping off the last time. the shackle from my black and blue wrist rattles a bit despite my efforts. the cuff supporting a thick chain that bolts straight to the wall behind the bed. a clear sign of my only purpose. the only purpose i’ve had since the Cult Town. it had been a mistake. the whole thing. i should never have involved him. i should never... have put myself on his radar. he’s never going to let me go now. he’s never...

it hurts to move. it hurts to just be awake as i try to ignore the other figure returning from the bathroom. until i can’t ignore it. until his weight joins me on the bed. until he’s pulling me over... and immediately backhands me when he feels me tense. feels me want to resist. and when that tears my lip open again... when the blood drips down my jaw and neck... i know there’s no stopping it. no point in even trying. his mouth claiming what i'd spilled so far. enjoying the taste... and far from satisfied by such a small sample. he cuts me. he beats me. flays off pieces of me. enjoying watching me wall up against the pain. doing my best to keep it from showing. to keep from flinching. to keep from trembling as... once again, he rapes me...

when it's over... and he looks at me after... he’s like a painter stepping back from a canvas.

admiring his own work.

and he asks me... the same question he always does.

“Do you want more, Sam?”       

for so long, i said no. i told him to burn to hell. i told him i’d rather die...

and took the punishment for it. a repeating of his work. only harder. more blood. more broken bones. more of everything. all for his pleasure. i took it. i took it...

until i didn’t want... for it to hurt anymore.

until i said yes... just to make it easier on myself. just to make the repeat... gentler. for wounds to heal... in favor of shredding my pride...

i said yes... even as every inch of me screams ‘no’ against his body moving against mine. into mine. and i want to kill him. i want to RIP him apart. but i’d tried to escape before. i’d tried and failed too often. no matter what i do, he’s constantly one step ahead of me. and it only gets worse. it gets worse... even as my body betrays me and follows his lead. even as he breathes into my ear that... in time... i will come to... want him too. that i will... come to love him... for what he does to me...

one day... after waiting so long for an opportunity to escape... any chance at all of regaining my life... i realize that no such thing was ever going to come. i realize that. and he knows it. kissing me one last time before heading out the door with Ronan. taking hands. David more than assured that i was going to begin doing... as he said i would...

not five minutes after they leave, i bite down on my own tongue. there’s a wonderful feeling about the pain that wraps around me... and an even more wonderful feeling... about the cold hand that wrapped tight around my heart... as i swallow my own tongue. choking on it... until i’m swallowed myself into the darkness...


I woke up.


or maybe it was just the gasps between the screams. the dull drag between the burning cries of my lungs and body and mind and SOUL as the door opens. the door opens and i remember. i remember everything. panicking. thrashing. struggling against the threads that i can FEEL on me that are EVERYWHERE on me and in me and the world is covered in them PULSES with them. veins that spread everywhere that ARE part of everything and all i... can do... is clutch my skull. my splitting skull as i stagger through the streets the roads the WORLD that i don't recognize because he's reformed it all. rewritten it all. screwed and torn and SHREDDED it all and i don't even...

who am i?

who the fucking HELL am I?!?

i don't remember

i don't... no, i do. i remmeber. but it's not... it contradicts. it all CONTRIDICTS. what's truth? what has he DONE to MY TRUTH?!! WHO AM I?! who the FUCK am i?!? too much, too many too many memories crammed into each other over TOP of each other overwritting overtaking i don't remember... i don't remember what's real where am i what am i doing... why... why is everyone grinning at me...?

every window reflects a memory i don't remember haivng or i do remember but it DIDN'T it DIDN'T happen that way it... it couldn't have happened that way...

it hurts

it hruts too much

too much

and i can... feel... the strings coming back...

threading up and around and through and INSIDE...

i can... hear... that laugh...

that laugh

and i feel the ground

hit my knees

as a hand

lays over my eyes

and the ddoor closes again in a rush

of burning RED


I woke up.


and i couldn't breathe. panic seized around my throat as the pains of my nightmare dug their claws in and TORE. and i flinched. recoiled. jerked from the light touch on my shoulder. the very one that had woken me. shrinking back even as the hand quickly withdrew... and there was a voice. a gentle voice. calm and low. reassuring me. reminding me... that it was just him. just David. that we'd agreed that... he would wake me up... if i began having a nightmare. that he would stop it. pull me from it. that i was back. that i was okay now....

myy hands wouldn't stop shaking

i could... still feel... his tthroat in my... in my hands. i could FEEL it feel HIM feel his body strain against my hold even as he just... let me. let me strangle him. staring up at me as i did. eyes telling me it was okay. that it was going to be okay...

just like David's eyes

the tears born in my sleeping torment just ran harder. mixing with my sweat even as i clamped my eyes shut in some feeble attempt to rein back control. in some pathetic attempt to save face... but it was useless. i couldn't stop. soon my whole body was shaking as badly as my hands. breaking apart breaking down with each partly-suppressed sob and whimper and i just... i wanted it to stop. i wanted it all to STOP i couldn't.... i didn't wnat to see it anymore... i didn't want to see him FEEL him anymore...

i was so tired... so sick... of watching my best friend die

of watching my life tatter and fall apart

of trusting

trusting each reality i was put into

only to find out it was all just another joke

another set of little red strings crafted especially for me...

laying there... i swore i could feel them... just the tiniest of threads... putting together this version of reality... until i get comfortable. until i start believing. and then the carpet is ripped out from under me again and i... i...

i can't do it anymore

i can't

i can't...

and still that voice whispers to me. trying to calm me. trying to make me believe it's not all going to go bad again. that it's not all going to FALL APART again.

i feel his hands curl around my own. stilling them since i couldn't. holding them between us. not tightly. not loosely. just holding. secure. slowly brushing his thumbs over my skin. he tells me... that Winston would forgive me for what happened. that he wouldn't want me to do this to myself. that no one is blaming me. he tells me... that he's been where i am. broken. tired. just wanting to give up. but he wants me to know that... things get better. that i can get through it. just like he did.  that i just need to give myself time... and it'll stop hurting like this...

i don't reply.

i only pull myself into his chest.

hiding in his arms.

and i weep.

i weep... for what feels like hours...

until sleep takes me again.


I woke up....

















David.

a couple of nights ago... after waking me up again... you asked me to tell you what... i see when i close my eyes. you asked me to share... one of my nightmares with you. a sliver of my hell that... you could face with me. a monster to pull from the shadows to rob it of its fright. you confessed... being at a loss sometimes during my panic attacks and paranoia... and hoped maybe it would help you know what more you could say. what more you could do...

even though you already do so much for me

more than what i'm worth

i couldn't... say anything at the time. the idea of... talking about this... i couldn't do it. i still can't. but somehow... writing it seems... less stressing. maybe cause i can trip through my words a bit better. maybe cause i can pretend its all just a story and delude myself into thinking that i'm not talking about my own life... my own... past...

whatever the reason... this is a taste of a few of the playpens the Devil made for me. i could have just printed it out and left it for you to find... but i didn't want Em finding it. nor did i just... want to hand it to you. maybe on here it feels... a little less personal. maybe it lets me hide better.

i know you're probably... going to want to talk about this.

please don't make me

please just let it rot in my skull

please...