The President's Daughter

Chapter Fifteen

I am screaming, screaming at Thomas, screaming for Dad, screaming at myself...

I reach over for the gun Thomas has dropped, wanting to pull the trigger on myself. I deserve it.

However, I can't move; my back has completely seized. Before I know it, the gun somehow appears in my hands. I place it on the side of my head and just as I am about to pull the trigger, a force stops me. The force rips the gun out of my hands and I hear the gun clatter away. I realise the force must've been a person...

My mother is towering over me, her hair matted with mucus, blood drooling from her mouth in thick strands, her skin pale with patches of red. Her fingernails are hanging off my threads of skin...

My father soon appears into view in a similar condition, the blood still oozing from his gunshot wounds. His left eye looks as if it's about to pop out of its socket. Thomas soon appears, his head hanging off his neck by his skin...

...

I wake up, screaming my head off. I sit up in bed like I am on a spring, I scream my way to the bathroom and slam the door shut. I slam open the toilet seat and crouch over the toilet. I vomit, tears welling up in my eyes as I remember my ghastly dream. My throat burns from the action of vomiting, my stomach tightening with every time the revolting mix comes up to and out my mouth. I vomit once more, before lying on the cool tile floor, panting and trying to calm myself down.

Thomas comes running into the bathroom, still in his suit with a pistol in hand. I signal to him to put his pistol down, however, he still scouts the room before doing so. Despite my current condition, I still manage to roll my eyes at Thomas' stupidity.

I crawl to the bathroom doorway, still panting and trying to recover from vomiting. Thomas plants his foot on my back and shoves me to the tiled floor.

"Not so fast, Alex," he warns. "Firstly you need to tell me what caused this."
"Nightmare," I groan.

Thomas releases the pressure he is applying to my back and lets me continue to crawl out of the bathroom. I crawl to my room and lie on the floor; after all, I could not be bothered climbing onto my bed. I look over at the digital clock and it is one forty six in the morning; there is still an entire night ahead of me. I close my eyes while I'm still lying on the floor, my nightmare putting me off any ideas of escape involving heights and hotels.