It Wasnt My Fault (DNF)

Part 1: Chapter 13

Dream pov

I awoke from my compilation of memories, feeling as though I had been asleep.

I shut my eyes, breathing heavily, trying to regain my bearings.

I'm in a house, not a shelter.

I'm with George, not my mother.

I'm safe, I'm not going to be hurt.

Opening my eyes, I'm met with pitch darkness, and I immediately scurry backwards towards the headboard.

It was dark, just like it always was in the basement.

Was I in there?

Was everything with George a dream?

Dream?

All of those memories were compiled into a bought of dreams from which I couldnt escape, and it scared me.

It scared me because I couldnt escape. The dreamscape was something that could keep me trapped for as long as it wanted, and I wasn't sure if I wanted to ever give it the chance.

I was sure of my surroundings now, but that brought me no more comfort.

I looked around my room, my eyes now adjusted to the light, peering at the bare walls covered in the dark blue hues that shone through the curtain.

Everything seemed so empty, so fake. It felt as though it could all vanish, could rip into thousands of shreds and be shed upon my already unstable head in celebration for my life coming to an end.

Everything felt like a reminder of death; the pure moonlight shining in my eyes seemed like the bliss of heaven reaching down to finally bring me to a better place.

The headboard felt like a crucifix, where my body lay limp, on display for everyone to see my insecurities and issues as they ignored my existence, going about their day and failing to acknowledge my ever approaching end.

My pillow felt as though it was suffocating me, my blanket as though it wrapped itself into a noose to choke me on my own failures.

The mattress bellow me felt like my coffin, my room the church I was preserved in, stuck in the final position I would ever be in for those who knew me to scrutinize my life.

This house was my mausoleum.

George was simply the journalist of my life, preparing himself to give the speech while he stared at my casket, where my forever expressionless face would stare up at the sky, my souls looking down at him from in front of my corpse's dead gaze.

I couldnt take it anymore.

I hop out of bed, walking down the hall with heavy footsteps, doing my best not to bump into walls as they began to close in on me.

I pick up the pace of my walking, desperate to get to the living room before the walls suffocated me.

By the time I reached my destination and was leaning on the couch, my breaths were coming in gasps, my mind slowly losing its grasp of control as the morning sun began to peek through the windows, yet another witness for my spasm.

As golden light pooled into my eyes, blinding me, the tormenting whispers slid into my ear easily.

Kill yourself.

Cut yourself.

Dont eat.

You'll never escape.

I'll follow you forever.

You never got away.

You'll always be running in vain.