Conflicted// How I met Dylan.
This is the story of how I slowly went insane.
I nearly couldn’t breathe anymore.
My hands were clammy and I shut my eyes close, at least I tried to but they were stuck on the horrified images in front of me.
Dark, only dark was surrounding me. I couldn’t see anything to be honest but maybe that was just the terrifying part. My mind started working, playing tricks on my vision, that wouldn’t adjust to the pitch black environment.
My hands grasped something, a material of some kind that felt familiar and comforting but so far away at the moment. I couldn’t recall where it should be placed in my memories, to which it belonged and what it was. But it was my only spark of familiarity so I grasped it. I held on to it for my dear life.
I wriggled around in the seemingly endless maze that somehow suffocated me. Until it yelled me to a halt.-
The first time I heard it’s animalistic growl was in the nightmare I woke up from. The first time I had heard his call had seemed endless and my mind must’ve been playing tricks on my ears as well because it started sounding more and more as a sadistic laugh. I had felt myself getting attracted to it as time passed, I had wanted to reach out for it, yell back and give in to it’s orders. But just in time I had opened my eyes and immediately a whimper fell from my lips.
As I looked around there was only black.
I still doubted my state of awakeness, the trick I had seen in that television show the other day to count on your fingers was no help in the dark state of my room. There was only prayers left to fall from my mouth and be whispered as strings of hope spreading around the night.
My body shot up in shock as something wet touched my thumb and for a moment I had needed to adjust to the new feeling of “feeling”. It was weird how something so easy and for normal-taken, could suddenly change so quickly that it amazed me.
I couldn’t decipher what it was until more droplets made their way to my palms and I reached up to touch my cheeks. Little waterfalls of vitreous humor streaming down for no reason. Or maybe it was an adverse reaction to the fear that had loaded my guts during the dreading train of sleepless thoughts.
I wiped the weak wetness away and felt something else, something soft and tickly that only made the guilt pour down in transparent liquid form. In my hands was the victim of my cruel deeds and I sobbed as I’d came to the conclusion my dearest stuffed animal had been tore apart by me, myself and my brutal hands.
My mind was getting dizzy as I got angry with myself and silently I could hear the melancholic laughter creep inside my head again.
It was when the light from the hallway suddenly illuminated my room and fought the darkness, that I looked up and managed to smile.
“Hey.” He said to me as he sat down and took the ripped elephant from my murderous hands. His arms wrapped around me and in a shushing matter he calmed me down. “It’s okay.”
“Thanks Dylan.” Sincerity only left lingering in my broken voice.