The Real Reed

Chapter 10

We don't deal with outsiders very well
They say newcomers have a certain smell
Yeah, trust issues, not to mention
They say they can smell your intentions
You're lovin' on the freakshow sitting next to you
You'll have some weird people sitting next to you
You'll think, "How did I get here, sitting next to you?"
But after all I've said, please don't forget

                                         - Heathens

Reed's POV

It started off just like every other time.

I felt helpless. My demons always overpowered me, I was used to it. But the horrors I lived through were on a whole new dimension when I was unconscious.

Sleep allowed me to be defenseless, even when my predators would attack with no mercy.

There's wasn't much I could do when I was awake, but at least I was on guard. As much as I do not have ultimate control, I am always ready to protect myself, build the wall and raise the fences; anything to fight them off.

But when I'm asleep, I can't do anything. The abyss is an opportunity for the monsters in my head to feed.

I can't fight back. And even if I could, I'd be fighting a losing battle.

"Stop!" I shriek into nothingness, as I usually do. The familiar darkness of the room engulfing me, the misty air almost choking me.

I try to move my hands from their place behind my back, that's when I realize they've been tied together.

Maybe I drank too much water today. Or I probably took too long to finish my homework.

Whatever it was, I must have really fucked up this time around, because whenever she tied my hands, it meant I would be in here for a long time.

I hear the patters of her flip flops on the floor of our hallway.

She was on her way.

I could always feel her presence from a mile away and I knew my torment was just about to begin.

"Please leave me alone." I beg helplessly. But begging never helped me. It didn't matter how long I begged, it would still happen.

"It wasn't my fault." Reasoning never worked in my favor either.
She saw it as me talking back or trying to belittle her; like I was trying to question her intelligence, play on it.

"Stop!" It didn't matter how loud I screamed.

It didn't stop it from happening.

Over and over and over again.

And I knew no one was coming; no one ever came.

A cold wind gushes and I could feel the hairs on my neck begin to stand.

She's here.

"No!" I start to shuffle from my position on the wooden floor, struggling with the bound on my wrists.

My struggles are useless and I know it. There's no point; she's already here.

I hear the creek of a door and then her silhouette comes into view, the only source of light to the darkroom coming from where the door is open.

"Please." I try again, despite the fact that I know there's no point.

"Sweetheart," she calls out coldly, "what have I taught you about begging?" She tisks and strolls into the room at a chillingly slow pace.