annabelles POV
I'm starting to remember things. Small things. Remembering is almost like watching movies. Like visions. I don't know if they're true or not, but they're something to be afraid of.
They're in my dreams, sometimes even when I close my eyes.
I keep having dreams of hands. Sometimes I feel like I can feel them on me, sometimes I feel like I've felt them before. The dream always starts in a light room, maybe a bedroom. I can always see a silhouette of a person, but I can never see them clearly. I can always see a pair of hands.
First it's callused, loving hands, on the back of my neck, tracing my thighs. I could feel them even, leaving little patches of warmth on my skin. The hands were so light and caressing. They were pale and definitely masculine.
Each time the delicate fingers traced my skin, it was almost like I could feel it.
I couldn't see the person, but some part of me felt they were as beautiful as the hands themselves.
That's where things change. All of the sudden, the setting is different.
It's dark, and I can't see anything. I always have this fear, this anxiety.
I can always feel the ground beneath me, as if I'm laying straight down.
Then very faintly, I can see a silhouette approaching me.
Although I've had this dream multiple times, every time I start off thinking that it will be good.
As the silhouette lowers, I find my anxiety slipping away. I find myself thinking "I'm not alone" . Though later, I wish that I was.
Suddenly, a pair of hands reach out to me. Instead of tracing my skin, like the first pair, they tear at my clothing and
Scratch at my skin.
I can almost always hear this screaming. It's my voice, I'm sure of it. Then I can hear laughter. It's echoed, and I can hear something familiar about the voice. But I can never tell who it is, for the noise gets drowned out by an unbearable ringing.
The hands are clawing at my skin, cold liquid pouring out. Blood. I can feel myself screaming, but nothing comes out. Just this ringing.
I can't explain the feeling, just that I hated it. It was pain, and sorrow, and guilt, and anxiety all at the same time.
Then a light flashes on and the hands pause.
The ringing stops, and I can hear muffled conversation. The silhouette dashes away, leaving me lying there.
I thought the dream would end, but it doesn't.
I can't move, I don't know how to. I can feel the red liquid dripping from my chest, and the cold of the air biting my uncovered body.
And I just lie there. I have to.
Then the ringing comes back, and I can see light.
And I wake up.
--------------------
I'm screaming. I had the dream again and I'm screaming. My body is thrashing, hitting the body beside mine. The comforter makes a sound as my fingers did into it.
Then his hands are on me.
He's callings band, screaming it.
"Wake up, wake up," he's screaming.
And I do.
Brendon is staring at me, his chocolate eyes in a panic.
"It's me, it's just me."
I look down at his hands and push them off.
"Baby?" He asks.
"I'm sorry... It's just.."
"The dream?"
I've told him about it, I trust him.
We've been together for almost two months now. I can trust him with anything, I know it.
I nod. He takes his hands away.
I laugh a little, glad the dream is over.
Brendon laughs too, but it panics me.
I don't know what it is.
YOU ARE READING
Remember me || Patrick Stump
Fanfiction"Just listen," Patrick says with tears in his eyes. I open my eyes wide now. I sit up as much as I can. And I listen. "Stay," he says. (A tribute to Sarah Dessen's 'just listen.') (Inspired my the fault in our stars by John green)
