Katya Edition: Second Edition

Twenty First Corpse: The First Connection

❝...❞

+ + +

Twenty First Corpse | The First Connection

+ + +

[Z-day +5 | Apr. 19 | 03:53hrs]

For someone uncomfortable with the dark, laying awake in the dark was really not the best idea. But I couldn't sleep. I managed to fall asleep pretty early the night before but I didn't stay asleep for very long. Old vindictive no. 1 and no. 2--a.k.a. my 'dear' mother and that 'lovely' Russian, Dominik Ivan--made sure to pay me a visit in my nightmares. I couldn't remember much about this one which was a pretty small mercy considering the usual anxiety plagued me all the same.

I'd taken a while to calm down without waking the sleeping Thomson but somehow I managed...

"Do you always get nightmares so intense?" Thomson's deep voice made me jump in surprise.

Or not...

"I thought you were asleep," I muttered, avoiding the question.

"I don't sleep much," he admitted, not pressing me for an answer, much to my surprise.

"Oh..." I mumbled, before falling silent and staring at nothing in particular in the dark. If I was honest, now that he was awake, I felt a lot less anxious about being in the dark. It sorta made me feel like a child, which in turn made me grimace slightly.

Thomson had led me to an underground section of the fun house, through a trap door in the floor. We ended up in some wacky, multicoloured room that made my eyeballs cringe with repulsion. It was only when he'd gotten out his sleeping bag that I remembered that Shiki had my knapsack and I had his pouch. Luckily I managed to find a sleeping bag in his pouch and we laid them down on separate sides of the room after I told Thomson I didn't trust him near me while I slept. I'll admit I was pretty cold to him the entire time but he never retaliated beyond a sarcastic comment here and there.

"I have them too," he suddenly mumbled and I was ashamed to admit that I jumped again. This always happened after a really bad one--I became so skittish at every little sound.

Sucking in a breath to calm my rapidly beating heart, I managed to ask, "Have what?"

"The nightmares," he answered, almost too quietly for me to hear and I froze.

He had nightmares too?

"It's why I don't sleep much," he continued, without waiting for me to ask. "It gets too overwhelming and most of the time I can't wake up from them. Then even when I do, I feel like I'm still trapped in one," he admitted and my breath hitched in my throat at how identical his description of his experience was to mine. I couldn't have explained it better myself.

I fell silent for a bit but after a while I couldn't contain my curiosity anymore. "How long?" I questioned quietly, "How long have you been getting them for?"

"Three years," he answered, "They started when I was nineteen."

"You're only twenty two?" I asked in surprise.

He snorted, "Your surprise is insulting, Calico..."

"You look older," I told him bluntly, "And why do you even call me Calico anyway?"

"Thanks, that does wonders for my self esteem," he muttered dryly before answering my question, "Your hair. It has so many colours, that was the first thing that came to mind. You've got this feisty furball vibe that reminded me of this calico kitten I gave this babe once. She had this crazy pair of--"