𝐃𝐢𝐚𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞: A Hannigram Love Story

Chapter Two

Darkness was closing in on Will, the sweeping sensation of pure dread swirling within his churning stomach. He was running. Bare feet thumping upon the supple earth beneath him, branches and twigs snapping in front of him as a pair of hooves galloped so majestically through the forest ahead of him. Putrid smells of rotting flesh sickened him, though he pressed on, refusing to stop. His body willed him to carry his legs faster, to reach the stag that indignantly ran from him, as if the very presence of Will annoyed it.

Will was breathless, his heart thumping harshly against the milky bones of his rib cage, thumping so hard he could hear the rapid beating in his ears, as if it were a steady rhythm of a drum. Thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump! He pranced to the beat of his heart's drum, his footsteps syncing with each deafening beat. It was almost like a death march that he'd meekly succumbed to, each riveting step he took a taunt to the true desires of his heart, though he'd never admit that.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of running, Will caught up with the stag, who was now standing atop of a rock that jutted out from the ground, the grey ridges and specks of glittering particles shimmering beneath the full moon above their heads. Will was now standing directly in front of the animal, which had humanistic features. And not just any man nor woman's features; no, this stag had the brute aura and maroon eyes as Hannibal Lecter, the one and only psychiatrist that could mask a hidden identity for such a long period of time.

The two stared at each other for a moment, until the stag beats its hoof down upon the huge stone once, twice, and then three times. Suddenly, the ground beneath Will's body began to shift, becoming unstable and unsuitable to be standing upon. He stumbles back, his hands reaching out for the stag helplessly as he falls backwards, the feeling never ending. The trees that once towered over him now become distorted and begin to melt, the aftermath turning into a liquid Will falls into. He realizes what the nature of the blackening liquid is, understanding it to be blood, blood that's now enveloping his body like a giant blanket, consuming him into a thick layer of terror. His head just barely bobs above the surface, gasping for air, until he's being pulled back down. Familiar faces swarmed around him, ghosts of his past taking form as a way of torturing Will and tormenting him in such a scarring way, it felt real. Faces of friends, foes, victims, killers, all of them wiggling their way into his subconscious to drown him in his own literal sorrows.

How poetic, Will thought as he sank deeper and deeper into the blood of the people he indirectly and purposely killed.

❝♞❞

"NO!" Will shouts with a start, his body jerking upwards from the surface of the bed.

His shirt stuck to his skin from a breakout of sweat, which had formed on top of his skin during the nightmare. Will knew exactly what it was about; he just didn't want to admit it to himself just yet. He wasn't ready. So subconsciously, he forced the mixed and heavy hearted feelings to the very back of his mind and swung his legs over the edge of his bed, rubbing his eyes before he arose to his feet. The wood beneath his feet creaked with each step he took towards the bathroom, swinging the door open tiredly. Will took a long look in the mirror, his iridescent orbs taking in the sight of himself; his cheeks had sunken in slightly, an indication of a decrease in weight. There were heavy bags beneath his multicolored irises, dark circles planted firmly beneath them. All in all, Will looked like hell.

Reaching out his hands, Will turns the sink knobs so that water flows freely from the faucet, water gushing out of it in a steady stream. He cups his hands beneath it and splashes it onto his face multiple times, the coolness of the transparent liquid waking him up for the day. He turns the water off and grabs a hand towel, patting his skin dry before neatly hanging it once more upon the rack. As he performed these simple actions, he couldn't help but ponder the events of his dream, the unsettling stag still galloping within his mind. The dark animal with the maroon eyes had never ceased to leave Will alone, constantly bombarding his interpersonal reflections as if it didn't want Will to receive even a moment of peace.