My Dreams Aren't Nice

Going Under

Trigger warning; Suicide, you've been warned. 

Derek went through the mundane week with terrible headaches and feeling cold all the time. He thought he was coming down with a cold which would be terrible as he had the game on Wednesday. It was a Saturday morning and had Derek had awoken to his alarm for school. He rolled over and turned it off, but he felt no clock. Derek opened his left eye a bit to see where the clock was, but there was no clock to be seen. He opened his eyes and saw he was not on his bed; He was on the floor, but not his floor. Derek shot up and saw he was in someone's living room. Derek immediately started panicking and then he saw blood. He looked at his hands and saw he had stained blood on him. Derek got sick in a pool of blood and hen he saw her; A woman in her mid-forties with blonde hair and wasn't moving. A knife was in her chest. Derek was shaking and then it clicked; He was the serial killer. He scratched his head, he had no recollection of the murders. He turned the alarm off and saw it was five in the morning. "This woman probably had a job", Derek thought as he felt pondered what to do. He looked outside and saw he was two streets away from his house. He opened the door and ran into the forest behind the house and hoped he could find his way home. His life was fucked. 

When Derek reached home he was greeted with a quiet house which he wanted. He headed to his room down the hall as quietly as he could and changed his pyjama's, washed his hands with a bottle of water from school in his bag and lay on his bed, processing everything. He still couldn't wrap his head around him killing something, let alone someone. He thought it was all a nightmare and he tried closing his eyes and wake up, but it didn't work, he was stuck in this reality. Derek thought and he racked his brain thinking of what he could try suicide. Derek looked at himself on his phone screen and he started crying. He could feel Marlene's presence, calling him pathetic. "You made me like this", Derek whispered as he cried into his pillow. He couldn't let himself turn out like this. He didn't want to go to prison, he knew what he had to do; He would have to confront everything he hated; He had to go back to the house.