Black. That's all you can see.
Black.
Black.
Black.
A light pang hit your chest as depressing thoughts came to your mind. The darkness always did this to you. Always has, always will. It just reminds you of how alone you were when they locked you in the closet. Screams echoed through your mind, familiar cries of a child begging their parents to let them out of the small, cramped room that most definitely had spiders and cockroaches hiding in the corners. The suffocating space would send you in a panic, make it difficult to breathe. Why would they do this to you? You were their child: their own flesh and blood you can't breathe you can't breathe you can't.
You sucked air into your mouth, trying to reassure yourself you could. It's just a bad dream. You can breathe. You can and you will.
But something wouldn't let the air reach your lungs.
You felt panic build in your chest again as you realized...
You couldn't breathe.
Something wasn't letting you.
Your worst fears were coming true.
You reached for your throat, gasping for air wildly as your heart began to speed up from fear and adrenaline. You tried to remember when you had last taken an intake of air, only for the thought to slip your mind as your mind grew foggy. You guessed it had been a while, then.
Your hands met warm, rough skin, causing your eyes to widen. Your hands had hit a pair of invisible ones.
A dry choke escaped your mouth while your hands began to claw at the ones strangling you. You can't die like this you can't you still had a life to live you still had a future you had friends that would mourn over you you had a chance now you can't let that chance slip.
Black spots danced along your vision, your heart pounding loudly in your ears. Your eyelids lowered, and you lay there, gasping as your struggles became weaker. Your hands clutched at the wrists of your attacker, nails digging into their flesh until your knuckles whitened. You hope you got their blood under your nails. No...
You wanted more than that.
You wanted to turn the tables and press your nails into their neck, strangling them until they were nothing more than a lifeless corpse. You wanted more than their blood on your hands. You wanted their body buried six feet under your feet.
Before your hazy vision went completely black, a quiet thought flashed through your corrupted mind.
I'm not ready to die yet.
~~**~~
You shot up suddenly in your bed, panting to get your lungs filled with precious air before letting out a scream that would have sent shivers up anyone's spine. It faded into the silence of the room, leaving you to sit there alone. You were shivering and sweaty, despite the fact you were freezing cold. You reached up and wiped the precipitation off of your forehead, swallowing the spit that had collected in your mouth. Your throat ached from when you had cried out, but strangely, you could not feel the familiar burn of forming bruises on your neck. You buried your face in your hands.
"It was just a dream, (Name)," you tried to reassure yourself before you broke down sobbing. "It was just a dream..." The hands on your throat weren't real. Just an act of your overactive imagination. Nothing happened. It was just a dream! Yeah. Just a dream... Your subconscious tried to convince you. You wanted to calm down, to forgot what just happened...
You could feel the depression radiating from the littlest voice in the back of your mind. Or was it? You heard it question.