Chapter Thirteen

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You had that dream again.

The one where you're in a small black box. You struggle and pounded against the sides but nothing.

You started to feel claustrophobic... as the box seems to get smaller and tighter. It closes in on you, and squeezes into your skin. You cant breathe, feeling what little oxygen you have left starting to run out, and of course you start hyperventilating making it worse but you cant stop. You pound and hit, shaking the box so hard you were even sure you bounced it up in the air a few times.

The box starts to dig into faster.
your arms are in the top coners, your knees hitting the sides. Its so tight you cant touch your hands together. You cant touch your arms, your legs, our your face.

And it just squeezes and squeezes.
The lack of oxygen starts to make you dizzy.

Everything in the already dark box goes even darker and darker... and it feels like your dying until...

It breaks.

It shatters around you... and your sitting in the living room... watching yourself.

The other you, dream you, is on the couch... and you see jeff behind that one.

Hes holding a plastic bag.

The other you doesnt notice.
But the real you cant keep your eyes off of him.

It seems like a long time before anyone does anything.

They just stand there for a while.

You watching tv and smoking...
Him standing over you... you totally oblivious what was about to come.

The first time the real you was too
But youve had this dream too many times to not know whats gonna come next.

And when it happens it happens so quickly.

He quickly draps the plastic bag over your head, quickly snatching the handles of the bag, pulling the bag as tight as he can against your face.

You can see the outline of your face pressed against the bag.
The plastic in your mouth going in and out as you struggled to breathe.

Theres steam in the bag.
Coating the inside.
Youre sure it was quite warm in there too.

You struggle for a bit, your hands grasp the plastic and you try to rip it up with your nails but nothing. Jeff pulls tighter as red marks start to form at your neck.

Even know its not you, you can feel yourself suffocating.
It hurts.
It hurts more than you can imagine.
Your lungs burn and its so painful not being able to take in a proper breath.
To not take in any breath.

It lasts for so long...
10-15 minutes.

You can only sit there hopeless watching.
Before you would try to scream.
You would try to hit him.
You would try to puncture or pull the bag off.
But nothing works.

You cant budge them.
Its like you're air, you can touch them, but you cant move them.
You're not wind, just air.

Suddenly, the fake you stops moving.
Her head falls to the side and she goes still.
He still keeps the bag on her head.
He keeps it there for whatseems like hours.
You're not sure how long that lasts.

He finally lets go and he falls to his knees behind the couch.
He grips on the head of the couch and just sits there with his head down.

His shoulders start to shake... and you here him sniffle a bit.
Then he just breaks down.

He cries out painfully and sobs.
He screams to an empty house.
He screams and screams, his pale skin turning a sort of pink.
He cries, his tears pouring down his face, snot dripping from his nose and onto his chin.

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