To Hell and Back for You

Chapter 15: We're All Insane

I fell victim to the hold of the demon in my dream, immediately feeling stupid for not realizing it had been a trap. He held tightly to the top of my shirt, having forced me against the wall and lifted me off the ground.

Reaching out with both of mine, I grabbed onto the hand that was holding me up. I tried to lift it from my chest and push him away. Even through imagining I had greater strength than I did, all my effort was futile.

McGraff purred behind an evil grin, "Why do I get the feeling you've been avoiding me?"

"Let me go, asshole!" I growled.

He cocked his head, smile fading, "Asshole, huh?"

He laughed again, simultaneously turning and throwing my body to the side. I anticipated sliding across the smooth hospital floor, but instead was met with thuds into random boxes that fell as I hit them. My eyes darted around once I had stopped, taking in the fact that we were in the funeral parlor basement I had explored at the graveyard. Dammit, Mark! I growled at myself before quickly finding my feet.

McGraff chuckled as he watched me stand again and face him instead of running, "Oh, so little Mark has finally grown a pair. And what is it you plan on doing with this courage of yours?"

I stared at him, contemplating what to do or say. I decided not to waste my time with words and instead focused my attention on trying to make a flaming sword appear in my hand, which I found was not so easy.

Was it because he was in control of the dream? No, even if he was, it was still my dream and according to everything I had learned, I should be able to manipulate it nonetheless. I must have taken too long to do something because he started talking.

"And here I thought you'd finally decided what you want," the demon smirked, "Well, maybe I should make your mind up for yo-"

"Quit talking as if you know me!" I barked, the frustration of not being in control really starting to wear on me.

His playful attitude quickly changed to one of fury. He clearly did not appreciate being interrupted, "Oh I do know you, Mark. I know how that unappreciative slime beat and starved you; how you received the same cruel treatment from those cunts at your school; how after you found cutting wasn't enough to feel alive, you turned to dope. How everyone abandoned you; how nobody gave a shit about you, but I do."

My brow furrowed as his words momentarily took my thoughts from attempting to create a weapon. Had he been snooping in my brain? It was true, after I delved into drugs to feel something other than pain, I became hooked. It was like even after I started realizing they were doing nothing to help me, I just couldn't say no.

Every inch of me ached inside and out. I couldn't think about anything except getting my next fix and relieving the physical and emotional pain of not having it in my system. I had resorted to snorting blow when it was all that others had to offer, but the high was so short, it did little to calm me. And nobody wants a dope fiend around.

What few people who had done anything to at least act like they were my friend, completely disappeared after that. The addiction led to an extreme amount of poor and irrational choices, including leaving me sleeping in the snow behind dumpsters at many points. I'd started stealing to pay for my drug and even stole cans of food so I didn't wither away entirely.

Tyler was the only one who stayed, who helped. I had been berated numerous times about our 'toxic relationship,' which always resulted in my resentment of anything those people had to say. How could they say we enabled and hurt each other, only to assure in the same breath that I wasn't responsible for his death? What concerned me at present was why McGraff was pretending to care about me.