Lost in an Unknown World

Chapter 5: Miya September 15th, 2016

I'm running down a twisted path, entrenched with thorns and bristles alike, threatening to rip the flesh away from my bones. The sky appears to get darker with every step I take, and yet I seem to know exactly where I am going.

Ms. Hans is relentlessly chasing me, her cackles of wickedness echoing as though she were a witch, or a part of some other demented species. "It's game over for you. Again," she rasps as her boney fingers latch onto each of my arms. I try to keep going, but it is too late. She is now contorting my limbs to a place where they aren't supposed to go. The grimacing sound of my bones and ligaments popping just won't stop, and I can't even scream because I'm now being suffocated.

The earth is shaking. Trees battle the quake of their bases, but even their strength won't hold up at this point. Landscape is now a wave, a carpet that is being aggressively shaken on repeat. My eyes are now blinded by sharp flash of light, my head throbbing and body screaming out for help. Everything goes hazy, a blur that my eyes cannot blink themselves out of. Then, objects begin to flash before me; these random things that I can't quite process in order to make sense of.

Until crazy man appears. That one that claimed to know me. Only it's not really him as I remember, at least. This is due to the fact that his body is coated in what looks like a type of slime, for he is glistening in the same way that a marble would be presented. Wait no, that isn't what I thought. This is blood, thick oozing blood. He is now screaming, roaring in unimaginable pain. His eyes, the terror and pure fear that they are producing making me want to vomit. Tears silently stream down my face, as I beg to the universe for my horror to be relieved.

I wake up in a sweaty mess on my bedroom floor. My hands have somehow wound up in a strange position underneath my spine; it's a miracle that I haven't died as a result of a blood clot yet. Wincing in discomfort as I pull them out, I realise that I have grazed the top of my forehead, and that a small amount of pus is beginning to ooze out of it. Gross.

I've had this same reoccurring nightmare since the day I met Ms. Hans, and I'm starting to get suspicious, not to mention a little terrified, of what these experiences may mean.

I haven't been back to school since that whole incident. My mom's reaction to the situation was unimaginable, the colour was drained from her face, and her jaw was wide open. Sort of like those scenes from a movie, only it was real for us both.

Anyway, she hasn't let me go back since. I'm basically a prisoner in my own home now. The only time that I have stepped outside was for some fresh air in the confinements of the back yard, and even that was supervised by my mom. At least Alec has been allowed to come by several times, keeping me sane to some degree.

"It should be safe for you to go back to school next Monday," mom sighs as she folds laundry. I'm not going to lie, her antics have been bothering me lately, all of this whispering to her friends that stop by behind closed doors, and abruptly ending the conversation when they clock that I'm several feet away from them. Apparently all that it's for is to 'keep me safe', which I'm calling a fat bluff. Come on, she's still allowing for Marlie to go despite all of this.

"Mom, there's something that you're not telling me, and I would really appreciate your honesty right now," I respond.

I'm pretty sure that I notice her face pale and lips purse just a little too much to be considered a causal gesture or mannerism. She proceeds to tell me that this is all in my head. She just wants to ensure that I lay low after the encounter with that man. I guess that could make sense, right? I'm probably overreacting.

But, as the hours of the day tick by, I am unable to stop the ruminating thoughts that are now pressing and consuming each ounce of my being. It has already been established that this isn't a purely isolated incident. I only need to be reminded of my birthday to back up that idea.

I need to know about whatever this is. I crave for the notion that my suspicions can be put to rest, but nothing can make me feel secure within that type of judgement. Especially not my mom.