Five hours. That's how long it took me to strip the room bare and paint it. Believe me when I say that the paint job was utterly horrible. I've never been known for bearing any artistic skills, but a first grader could have done better. Oh well, I guess I'll just say it's abstract. You know, for "therapy" or something.
As soon as Talia left, I didn't give her a second thought. She showed up, spoke some words, and then left. That's all. If she was trying to get me to pity her or something, she really should try harder. Or you know, NOT TORTURE ME.
Three more hours later, after I had put everything back into its place, spread the rugs out on the floor, and gave the entire room a good dusting, I crashed onto the floor. I thought about what I was going to do next. After all, I couldn't really go back to my apartment. Then again, if I stayed in the asylum, I would look suspicious. Especially if someone got into my room...
There's no chance in hell that I'm going to stop paying for the apartment. If I do that, it will be sold to someone else and they'll discover Trent's decomposing body. I can just imagine it now- fleshy bits of skin and the rim of the tub stained red. His face distorted. His limbs twisted and bent, all giving the impression he had been handled without care. Serves him right. Still, I can't help thinking about him sometimes.
Exhausted, I decided to stay the night at the asylum once again. I also decided that I would give off the impression that I was so invovled with my work, I couldn't possibly go home. Talia will probably working me like she's never wroked me before, making me suffer through innocent people's blood and gore. It surprises me that Talia likes to kill these people. After all, isn't she herself utterly insane? There's a bigger picture here; I only have to fit the pieces together. For now, all I will do is do as I'm told. That's all I can do.
So, I fell asleep.
***
As soon as my eyes closed, all I could see was pictures of a crazed Talia, a boy named Trent, and bruised and bloody images of myself. Nightmares. They're absolutely horrible. I hate everything about them. I can never wake up from them, they're like being awake and livign your actual life with pain, suffering and loss. The thing that makes them worse is that you always know you're dreaming. When you're inside of a nightmare, you're not yourself, and you're not in your right state of mind. Life isn't real, but your nightmare is terribly fake.
The first image that appears is Talia. She's wide-eyed, her very own knife in her hand once again.
"Come and play with me!" she squeals as she skips around in a room of nothing but blackness.
"There's nothing here for me... I'm empty... I am nothing, and I shall be this way forever," are my only thoughts.
Talia screams and dashes towards me, knife in hand. She plunges the knife through my stomach and yanks it out quickly. I can smell the blood and I can feel the warmth in my stomach, but I refuse to look down. I know what will be waiting for me if I do. Talia plunges the knife into my boy once again, only an inch higher this time. Now I can taste the blood. The horrible, crimson substance I loathe. Talia has now reached my neck, and I am crumpled on the floor. The cold, black floor. It's so shiny I could see my own reflection perfectly if it wasn't for my blood on the ground which is distorting my image. My hair is soaked in my own blood, and I continually spit out mouthfulls oof blood at a time. Talia scrapes the knife against my forehead, then I fall through the floor.
I hit the floor of another room, this room being entirely white. I can see Trent moving around behind a small curtain. I instantly move forward and pull the curtain to my left side, only to reveal a repulsing picture. I scream and fall backward, but they don't seem to notice.
Trent and Talia are lying on a bare matress, bare naked themselves. They're tossing and turning and thrashing and groaning and moaning. Trent trails kisses up Talia's skinny little neck and she murmurs something seductive into his ear. Trent groans and moves his face up to meet hers. He bites her lips, and she immediately responds by opening her mouth to him. Their lips and tongues move simultaneously and they're both thoroughly enjoying themselves. Anger and lust immediately coarses through my veins. I yell, but the don't notice. The just lay there, engulfed in their intercourse, while I'm screaming my bloody head off. I try to reach out and grab Trent away from Talia, hoping to kiss him for myself, but I can't. My hand is zapped back instantly, and it leaves a stinging sensation in my palm that extends to the very tips of my fingers. But it doesn't matter. As long as they pull away from each other.
But they never do. In fact, they seem to sink deeper into the matress, only groaning louder and thrashing around even more. They have no covers, so I get a front row pass to the sex lives of the one I loved and the one I detest. The all o the sudden, Talia stands up and pulls a gun out from nowhere. She holds it up to Trent's head and shoots him. She laughs. I scream. Talia vanishes as I run over to Trent's limp and bleeding body, the invisible force field now gone. As I lean down to kiss Trent's cold lips, he disintigrates in my arms, leaving only blood-stained sand in my hands.
Once again I'm falling, but this time I'm falling up. As I continue to move upwards, the air around me grows colder. I can see my breath as it escapes my lips, only to be left behind as the rest of my body is thrust upward. Then I stop. I'm held in the air for a moment before I go plummeting to the ground again. I hit the concrete floor and I hear a loud CRACK! coming from he head. I reach my hand up to my head. When I pull it away, it's covered in a crimson ooze that it referred to as blood. The brick stones that line the walls seem to move in waves. The flesh on my arms, legs, and stomach seem to rumble and breathe, each square inch of my body owning its own pulse and heart. The small pokes turn into jabs that turn into hits that turn into punches that turn into stabs that begin to bleed. I look down at my arms and legs and try to scream, but I can't. My voice is stuck in my throat and my entire body is throbbing. My spine suddenly feels as if its been split in half and I find myself bent halfway over and I'm staring at the chipping ceiling. I let out short gasps of air, but nothing else will come out. My breath is not obeying me, and I can't wake up. I know I can't. But then, it all stops.
My entire dream is rewound, and I find myself where I haven't seen before, in a black and white striped room, the stripes continue around the whole room without any breaks. I'm alone. All alone and cold. All alone and cold and afraid. The walls begin to shake and the crumble to the ground all around me. They surround me like a cage. Behind the wall that fell was bunches of mirrors, all lined up waiting for me to stare into them. But when I look into them, I see nothing. Just like me; I am nothing and never shall be anything. I slowly turn my head and see an image in only one of the mirrors. I haul myself up off of my butt and slowly stand. I take several unbalanced steps toward the mirrors' reflection and find myself staring in my own eyes. I look flawless, I have my makeup done, my hair washed and pulled back, and I'm wearing a fabulous dress. I see someone over my shoulder in the reflection and quickly spin around to find that curious man from before.
"R..." R smiles at me and takes my hand. He's looking very handsome, all dressed up in a white tuxedo and a red tie that matches my hair perfectly. He holds out a red rose to me with his free hand and I take it. "Th-thank you...?" I question, staring down at the rose. But I don't pull my hand away. His hand is firm and warm. He's a comforting person. R leans down and kisses me. The image shatters, and blackness engulfs my vision once again.
***
Hey hey hey! You guys are AWESOME, ya know that?! Well, you should :- )
Soo anyway, I'm SO SUPER SORRY that I haven't uploaded in a while! My internet has been down and I've had absolutely NO TIME. Thanks for sticking with me on this and I hate to push it, but pretty please comment and vote! Winning the Watty Awards is really important to me, and every vote counts! After all, how ard is it to click a button? ;) Comment if you feel like it! Love you!
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ČTEŠ
This is Death (ON HOLD)
HororI am trapped by Talia. She forces me to torture people. But I like it. Or do I? No, no I don't. She likes it. Not me, I can't like it.
