The Epic Tale of Cregan

Chapter 8: Nightmare

Warning: This chapter contains themes of abuse/child abuse.

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Another nightmare. Another waking hell that he doesn't understand. His mind musters these illusions for the sole purpose of tormenting him, at least that's what it feels like.

Again, he's standing on that cliff high above a cloud of fog cloaking the ground, if there even is one. From what he can tell, he's closer to the edge than he was before. The only difference that he can see is that the white sky is now grey, but still an endless void. He has both his arms again. The silent, rainless storm pushes on around him, and this time he can hear thunder rumbling in the distance.

He still can't feel anything. His body is numb to the world.

He tries to move but he can't, not on his own anyway. Looking out behind him, before the cliff's edge is a forest with a mist rolling in across the ground. Emerging from the darkness is a person. A man.

John Wright.

Cree tries to move, to reach out to him but he can't move a muscle. He's locked in place on that edge.

He can't speak.

He can't do anything but watch.

John starts walking towards him with a smile on his face.

It would have made Cree smile too, but he can't change his expression to emote anything but a blank stare and the cold shell of himself. Even though he can't control himself, he doesn't understand why his own mind won't let him smile at seeing him again after so long.

It's not even mourning that keeps him restrained. It's nothing but pure apathy.

It doesn't matter if he can't show his smile, he knows how he feels. But it doesn't matter once he watches John close the distance between them and stand before him. His smile fades into fear and his eyes are pleading. He tries to speak but only silence fills the emptiness.

Cree doesn't know what happened.

Not until he, or whatever subconscious part of him this is, looks down and sees that he's holding his knife stabbed through John's chest.

No matter how much John fights to break free, he can't.

He just reaches forward with the last of his strength and grabs Cree's shoulder. It's only then that he realizes his metal arm is back.

As the light fades from John's eyes, he shows one last smile before fading out into nothing.

He becomes lost in the void.

Cree tries to scream out and cry, but he can't. He's left numb to it all.

He didn't kill John. He would never do that to the man he called his brother. His best friend. The first person to truly understand him.

He didn't kill him.

Did he?

He doesn't hear the little girl crying. This time, he hears the cries of someone else. It's him, his own cries.

His own screaming and begging for the nightmare to end.

That's what that memory was after all.

A nightmare.

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The immediate thing he notices is different from when he was knocked out is that he is no longer on the ground or touching any surface at all. His only real arm is sore, with a tight binding around his wrists that keeps him suspended in the air.