The Wicked Within

7. The Dream

It'll make you think you've gone mad. Don't worry- this is normal. The visions can terrify, the visions can hit home like a tsunami.

This is completely normal.

******

Finn flushed the toilet for the fifth time. Vomit was still coming out of his mouth in a stream.

"Finn? Are you ok? Seriously?"

Finn flushed the toilet yet again, and wiped his mouth off.

He opened the door.

His dad was standing in the hall.

"Finn-"

"Dad, I-I"

"Are you sick? You should take your temperature."

"I'm not sick! I'm- I'm insane!"

His dad's face scrunched up in confusion. "What?"

"Normally I wouldn't say, because wouldn't believe me. But here goes."

Finn hesitated. Was he doing the right thing? Was he insane? Was that was all of this was? If he was, he wanted help, but if he wasn't...

"Never mind. Just leave me alone."

"Finn-"

"I said leave me alone," Finn brushed past his dad, and into his room.

*******

The scratching started late at at night.

It was the sound of fingernails.

Finn ignored it. He was done. He just wanted everything to stop. He could handle the other stuff- but to see his mother's face like that...that was too much.

And he was done.

Until the dream came.

*******

He dreampt that he was shackled to the floor. His eyes were opened, but he only saw black.

Until the lights snapped on.

The store. They were in the store. He was a body on the floor, being pulled by someone or something much bigger than him. He heard a door open, then slam shut. He felt himself fall, not a long fall, but long enough to hurt. His vision was blurry, all he saw was red, and the outline of one other person.

Allison. There was no questioning, no mistaking. It was Allison.

Three figures in emerald cloaks loomed over them, carrying machetes.

The roar of rushing blood dominated his ears as one of the men loomed over him. The man punctured his own stomach with the knife, causing blood to leak out through his robe.

Then he lowered the knife towards Finn.

******

When Finn snapped awake, the first thing he saw was something he absolutely did not want to see.

The teenage girl.

He backed up against his bed as far as he could, and put his hands up in a defensive position in front of his head, as if it would somehow help.

"What are you-"

The girl held her index finger to her lip, her black hair looming over her face. She moved her finger away from her lips, and touched Finn's own.

A horrible chill ran through his spine as her skin met with his.

Before he knew it she was gone. Disappeared, into thin air.

Leaving yet another note in her place.

Come to the store.

Or we'll make you.

*******

"No you did not, Finn."

"Yeah, I did."

Finn held up the note.

Allison shifted her book bag to her other shoulder. She lazily kicked a rock on the side walk.

"What do you suggest we do?"

Finn sighed. "We-"

Allison put her hand up and slapped Finn in his stomach, stopping him from talking. She was shaking, her eyes were wide, and she opened her mouth.

"What the hell is that?"

She pointed to a man, very tall and pale, emerald cloak, waving at them from the street. With the other hand, he was rubbing his chest, making slash marks, exactly where he had in the dream.

"We..." Finn tripped over his words, "we should get out of here."

******

All the lights were out in the bedroom. Even the TV, and it was always on. Finn just lay there on his back, staring at the ceiling, though he couldn't see it in the thick darkness. He felt a headache coming on, and he lightly messaged his temples, but it didn't do much to help. His mind was rushing furiously. Two weeks ago, he hadn't even believed in ghosts or really anything that couldn't be explained by science. But now, with all these situations rushing at him, he was forced to rethink the entire world as he once knew it. And he was starting to think, was there really more to this world than meets the eye, or was it just him?

A door closed somewhere outside his room, but he didn't even notice. Something fell off his nightstand; a book, a journal, something. He didn't bother to look.

He just stayed on his bed, keeping up his futile attempt to make the pain go away, still rubbing his temples. Silently, almost inaudibly to himself, he muttered.

"I'm going insane, I'm insane, I'm insane."