A Real Nightmare

Giving up is easy

Chapter 7

Weeks passed, and each night a new nightmare spun inside her mind. A new profound fear that she never knew existed was buried deep inside of her. Viktor pulled those unknown fears out, psychologically tormenting her nightly, giving her dreams of dying different ways. He literally tormented her in a few nightmares. He was playing with her. In any way he could just to get what he wanted. What was his. What he needed. It was a matter of—would she break and give it to him—or would she remain strong and play naïve, denying him access to the elixir?

She wasn't strong. She never was; and she didn't think she ever would be. It just wasn't who she was. Already she could feel herself slowly breaking. No matter how many times she denied having the vial he sought after so desperately, who even knowing the location of where it could possibly be, he never believed her. And in not knowing what he needed her to, she was punished. He turned the notch up on the psychological torment, the nightmares.

After reliving her death many, many, times, she was ready to give up and die. Get it over and done with. Dying nightly in her sleep was really starting to take a toll on her mental stability and physically. She was slowly breaking from the inside out. Crumbling piece by piece. And he knew it. He knew exactly what he was doing. He was a master at playing games and she was losing, like always. She was a loser. She couldn't even fight for her life anymore.

Each day she went to work, her boss commented on her recent health decline. She resembled a ghoul. Her skin was ashen, her eyes were dull, purple and blue bags decorated underneath her eyes. She looked dead. Just as she felt. She wanted to hang on. She wanted to be strong, but she didn't know if she could face this kind of darkness alone anymore. She needed to tell someone.  Anyone. She was carrying a heavy burden. A secret that she had mysteriously discovered. And now she was paying for it. Secrets such as the elixir, should be kept a secret. But she understood why the author wrote the book, exposing the populace to the "supposed Vampire race." She was still unsure if they were real, or if they were the creation of a very skilled writer.

*~*

It's Friday evening; the shop is about to close up and Katerina could wait no longer. She was itching to tell anyone, someone about her dreams, about Viktor. Before she could ask Hank for a moment of his time, he pulled her into his office. His sweaty, pudgy fingers gripped lightly onto her arm as he guided her to the chair that sat directly in front of his desk. She could feel the sweat soaking through her thin jacket, leaving damp finger prints on the gray fabric..

Something was wrong, she could see it in his blue eyes. He was in deep concentration, almost as if a serious debate was happening inside of himself. Was it to tell her whatever he was going to say when he pulled her here? She didn't know what to do but stare on in uncomfortable and rather awkward silence as he tried to decide whether or not to spill the beans, so to speak.

Katerina sat fidgeting with a loose thread on the hem of her jacket sleeve, looking down at her chipped purple nail polish and staring at her tiny reflection. She couldn't help but to notice how much she resembled death. Ironically enough. She had been dying almost nightly.

Each morning Kat woke with a new puncture mark on a different part of her body. She was in complete denial, she knew that. But, Vampires real... no. She just couldn't accept that. Her mind could not wrap around the concept. She couldn't entertain that ridiculous idea. But then the rational side of her kept saying, "How else can you explain the nightmares away, those invisible hounds...those...eyes? Those aren't spider bites. You know he's a Vampire."

Daily, she fought with herself, debating her own logical thinking. After all, Viktor was a master at screwing with her psychological state. At one point, she almost agreed with the rational side. She was tired of fighting this fight with herself and Viktor.