I woke up covered in sweat, drenched from head to toe. I was sleeping on a concrete slade, shackled to the post of my "bed".
There was a red mark and blood splattered on my wrist where the shackles were holding me. I was in a dark, cold, dry room, pitch black, except for the reflection of a single, medium-sized mirror hanging off of the wall. I decided to get up. I walked over to the mirrir, going as far as I could. After al, i was still shackled t the bed. How did this happen? When? Why?
I got to the mirror easier than expected. It was covered in dirt and... it couldn't be blood. It just couldn't. It was logically impossible. But so was the position he was in... shackled to a concrete slab in a dark room with nothing but a dirty, blood-stained mirror to keep him company. What a bitch. I just stared deeeply into the mirror. Something wasn't right. I could feel it.
"Hey."
I spun around, the shackle whipping my arm. It was nothing. Nobody spoke. Just a figment of my imagination.
"Oy!"
Again, I spun around to the mirror. There was a shadowy figure behind me. I turned around... nothing. I turned around to face the mirror. Nothing. What the hell was hapening to me?
I felt a hand slowly come over my mouth and cover it. A dirty, blood-stained hand. Somehow I just didn't seem to care what happened to me anymore.
It pulled me back into the darkness...
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"Help!"
I wake up. Must've been another goddamn dream, I say to myself. It seemed to be so real.
Maybe it wasn't just a figment of my imagination. No, it couldn't have been anything more than a dream. Screw it. I'm not supersticious. Just forget about it and move on.
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I get out of my bed, shivering from the cold. Our house is old, no ducted heating, no air-conditioning. I'd rather be living on a boat, I swear to God. Anything's better than this. This house, this family, this dream that keeps on recurring inside of my head.
I slide on my school blazer, being careful not to crease it. I'm in year Nine at Rockville Catholic High school.
"Bye Mum, Bye Dad!" I call out as I walk through the door.
"Get back here, Nathan! You haven't done any of your chores!"
I just walk through the door. That's going to bite me in the ass when I come home.
I'm waiting at the bus stop listening to my Ipod at full blast. Blam! The bus horn stays blasting for about five seconds straight. "I'm coming! No need to be a horn-toting wanker!" I get onto the bus and hand the bus driver the money. But there's something that I haven't noticed at all today.
A red mark around my right wrist.
The wrist that had a shackle attached to it in my dream.
