Chapter 27

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I sit up in my bed when I see the light in the hall going on through the crack under the door. The blankets creak when I push them off. I look around and my eyes dart to the window that suddenly blows open and causes a hard bang. It looks like it has started to storm, my curtains blow far into my room along with a few leaves of trees. Which later flutter on my floor. My hair is half blown in front of my face and a shiver runs down my spine.

My heart goes into my throat when nails are scratched on my door, causing a squeaking sound. The sound that an old school chalkboard gets when you go over it with your nails. With wide eyes I look at the crack under the door and see a shadow. I keep quiet and sit rigid and at the same time trembling in my bed with all my senses on edge. The wind blows through my room and makes a screeching sound.

Then I hear another loud bang and my eyes dart to my window, which has suddenly closed. There is a pressure in my chest that is building up.

The loud creaking of wood makes me look back to the door. But the door is no longer there. It lies on the ground with large and small chunks and splinters of wood. Before I know it I jumped out of bed and I am standing next to my bed looking at the door opening.

The completely black silhouette comes slowly towards me. My feet step back as the silhouette draws closer, like magnets repelling each other.

Yasmine: "Who are you?" I ask anxiously.

I don't get an answer, all I hear is a soft nasty grin.

Yasmine: "Who are you?!" I scream.

How dominant I can be sometimes, I have now literally been driven into a corner. I can feel the wall pressing into my back and the pressure in my chest increasing even more.

I have nowhere to go anymore. All I can do is watch someone hold me down now.

With a swift movement, male hands are closed around my throat. His body applies a little pressure and pushes me even more into the wall. My hands reach for his wrists to pull them loose, but he tightens his grip and presses his palms and thumbs harder against my neck and throat, making my breathing increasingly difficult.

Yasmine: "Let go of me." I manage to utter in between gasping for breath.

I try to breathe, but my airways are closing more and more. Which ultimately prevents me from taking in any more air. My lungs are deflating like a balloon losing its air. Choking noises fill the room and sweat is on my body.

But then, through the light of the moon shining in through the window and just hitting his face, I see him.

Yasmine: "Justin?!"

I shoot up in my bed, quickly open my eyes and look around to scan the room. Windows closed, door still in place, I'm still intact. With a trembling sigh and trembling hands, I wipe away the tears that have arisen.

With my hands in my damp hair, I try to catch my breath and calm myself.

Yasmine: "It's not real, it's not real. It was just a nightmare." I repeat to myself, under my breath.

No, but I did die, otherwise I wouldn't wake up suddenly. Your brain doesn't know what will come when you die, so you wake up just before you die. I was just killed by my very own brother.

I find my way to the kitchen with trembling legs. I turn on a small light and fill myself a glass of water. Leaning against the counter, I drink my glass of water with difficulty.

It's not the first time I've had a nightmare. But usually things are a bit different. I'm not used to this either. Nightmares remain scary and something you would rather not experience, but if it happens to you more often you will deal with it differently. Only then should it all look a bit alike. And not like this.

Panic Attacks // Ruel // EnglishWhere stories live. Discover now