This is the story of how I slowly went insane.
One day I woke up. And everything was wrong.
It wasn’t an immediate rush of flashbacks and devastating thoughts that came floating back to my groggy mind. But in my just awoken state, I felt relieved and that wasn’t something I had felt in a long time.
It was as if a weight had fallen down my shoulders but I couldn’t recall what it was. And in case I could’ve resolved my amnesia, I would’ve been devastated. Because that weight would’ve become my loss.
I sat up straight in my bed, shakily taking in a deep breath but my head hurt as I tried to retrieve blank holes in my memory. It is normal to not remember what I’ve dreamt off, it was normal to others at least. My dreams had significance and that’s why I couldn’t forget one horrifying moment of them. Every flash was determined to stay burned on my retina, although none of those terrifying moments had actually played out in the other reality my body was doomed to stay.
I would see how I made the wrong choices until I met Him. He twisted in unbelievable ways, making it come to me like a beautiful dream and a chance to escape.
But last night, I don’t recall anything and a sudden feeling of emptiness overwhelmed me as I looked at my side.
I was alone.
Dylan was always there, next to me, waking me up from my slumber at the appropriate times. He was there to shield me when I was tossing and turning and in no state of a proper sleep because I was getting haunted in the awful visions that played behind closed eyes. But now there was no secure arm left to wrap around my waist and I gasped when I looked up and took notice of my presence in the mirror opposite of me.
It was winter and still so dark out, must’ve been around 7 already though I had no idea. But the moonlight casted through the skylight of my room and reflected on my white nightie that, now I took a better look at it, was stained in red and brown, blood and mud.
And in my suddenly disheveled state, I could only fear of what I had done to those I loved.