Dystopia

-9

Camila was crying; looking like all the ten letters of heartbreak had been etched onto her porcelain skin, with nothing but a dagger, crafted by his truly.

Not a single word drew from her lips, not even while William knew for certain that she had seen him. Her gaze was piercing his, clouded with shade and sadness.

"Camila," He screamed, he cried. "Help me!"

But she remained still, the tears dripping down her face turning from rivers to oceans, and why, Camila could only drown.

She didn't move because she was forced to stay still, or at least by the looks of it. Rather, she didn't want to. She was at war with herself, a battle raging beneath her beautiful everything, divided between an effort of saving him, saving her dear husband, and watching it all crumble. It was what he deserved anyways, William was aware of this, but it all just seemed more horrifying, when the time to be torn apart suddenly arrived. And we don't realize it, we never do, until death is staring right at us, and our body is bound by chains.

His breaths became shallow, vision shifting from Elizabeth to Camila, Elizabeth, Camila, Elizabeth, Camila, until both became either, just pieces of a dream that drove him insane. And he didn't quite realize it until then, the faint redness of the oozing blood that dripped down from his fists, a result of pounding at his prison walls again and again and again, only to give up and try again until death did him apart.

Much like Camila, who watched as he did so; pretty little head filled to the brink of in sickness and in health and in good times and in bad, ringing and ringing through her head like brass church bells and empty promises.

He was struggling. Oxygen was depleting. It wasn't until now that he truly realized what it felt like to die, and even worse, what it felt like to be aware of it. 

"Help..." He voiced weakly. His last plea of desperation.

The man was withered on the ground now, inhaling all that could, but helplessly choking on what coudn't. And nothing mattered anymore. Not the death of his lover. Not the observation of his wife. Not the fact that nothing, absolutely nothing, make a lick of sense. And not even the death of himself. 

But soon enough, it was just:

One.

Two.

Three seconds before everything faded, and everything, was lost.

But that, was only the beginning.

And he awoke, the hands of his wife clutching his stiff shoulders, shaking him awake, screaming "Will, Will, Will!" and bathing him in the vibrant but gloomy tones of reality.

She asked him if he was okay while dragging the comforter across his forehead and wiping sweat that had been gathered there, out of fright or nervousness or tiredness, William wasn't so sure.

He sat up, and so did she; his face still permanently cloaked in terror, and looking very much like it ought to stay that way. But Camila hugged him tight, wrapping her slender legs around his torso and leaning her head upon his shoulder. All the while it felt like her heart had been torn to pieces, with his name and his face and his memory running through her broken veins.

"A-Are you okay?!" She said. "My God Will, please, please tell me what's wrong!"

He just sat there, fear paralyzing him the same way death did.

"Are your nightmares back?!"

Her voice echoed throughout the bedroom, sounding desperate and hopeless and terrified more than anything else.

"I love you. I love you. Please tell me what's wrong!"

Silence.

Just pure silence, and never had one ever been so loud.

It was unresolved, usettling. So Camilla pulled her husbands face between her own two palms, then rested her forehead against his, weeping and hoping that he would look back at her. Or anything, really. As long as he didn't seem so lifeless, so dead. Why, she felt like all she held was a corpse, its life lost just like the light in his eyes.

Camila didn't know how long it took before she got to hear his voice again, but she was certain it was far too long; feeling like a forever wrapped into a small moment.

But he did speak. And, perhaps, that was a blessing in itself.

William was in shock, his body wouldn't move as he commanded, and his surroundings seemed as if they were closing in on him, just like the walls of his crystal prison.

He was able to mumble a muffled and vague "Camila?" , his throat feeling like it has been stuffed with cotton.

"Will! Oh my god, are you okay?" She gasped.

Words, however, weren't his speciality at the moment, so he just shook his head lightly and leaned over onto her shoulder, and cried.

He didn't know why. He didn't know anything, really, other than he was terrified.

He saw her everywhere; upon the wood floors of his home, her corpse draped against the curtains, or her neck rung around their chandelier. And for once he could see it, her blood staining the walls like grisly paint.

But Camila was right there, caught between his own arms and the only thing he could think of was her role in his dream.

She was just standing there, just standing there and crying.

William wasn't quite sure what that meant, but he hoped oh-so desperately, that it didn't mean a thing.

And they just cried, their sorrow filling up the room until the sadness was almost as palpable as his fear.

Yet, nobody asked the questions they've been meaning to, that had been aching at the back of their brains.

Nobody mentioned that William shouldn't be having nightmares anymore, since the Microtac had been removed precisely three days prior.

Or, that his nightmares were to mean anything more than just dreams.

And that time wasn't such a predictable thing.

These were the thoughts running through heads, but with nobody to voice them, they died just as quickly as Elizabeth herself.

They were clouded by fear, masking everything it can until it controled you.

And William, well he was already a slave to it; sobbing and trembling because of everything that occurred in the present, while the future was shaded, but never more clear.

(A/N: hi you guys! :) sorry this chapter is really short and a bit depressing and kinda weird but it's important, I promise you.

Just for clarification, the chapters are negative numbers. It's starts from 0 and goes -1, -2, -3, etc. They are not hyphens.

But also, I've been thinking about putting this book on hold for a while considering its lesser amount of readers and slower updates. Tell me what you guys think, I'd really appreciate it.

But anyways, thank you to the few of you who read this book, you mean the world to me and this chapter is dedicated to abiwrites bc fab as hell ok.