I dream of John unlike ever before.
I am running through a hallway.
A school hallway. My own.
The floor tiles white with the occasional red rows.
It is dark. Some time after hours. It is quiet.
It is quiet though not at all peaceful.
John is chasing me. A crazed look in his eyes that is not normal. The glistening blade from Lorien in his hands. Covered with dripping wet blood. Held in bloodied hands.
Blood of the innocent.
He chases.
He chases and I run.
The hallways seem unending.
Not repeating. Not different or same. Just unending.
I can hear his breathing. Like that of an animal.
Heavy and rugged. Short and hasty.
His footsteps pounding close behind.
I beg him to stop.
I hear my voice plead, echoing down the continuing halls.
"Please John, stop. Please John, stop."
Never does he.
He chases and I run.
In a never-ending loop.
I plead and plead while he chases and chases.
And he whispers over and over, quiet yet plenty loud to hear.
"Abomination. Abomination. Abomination."
His voice echoes and travels.
Behind me, beside me, above me, below me.
I hear him everywhere.
The love that I found.
Tears that arise.
In the unexpected expectation of the only love I found taken by an evil I don't know.
A destructive force taking control of the boy I love; his every thought and every will.
Possessed by an evil demon.
It isn't until I see Bea in my path that I jolt to a halt.
Her hands on her hips and smiling at me with glee, it takes me by surprise.
By surprise and confusion and dread and fear.
Is she responsible for what is wrong with John? Is she the one responsible for causing my love to chase me until I am too tired to run? Chase me until I die?
There is no time to think. No time to ponder.
Bea smiles and I halt and John runs.
The blade of his extended, he does not stop.
Bea in front of me and the love of my life behind me, intent on killing.
I don't turn around.
I know what will happen and do not want to see it.
And so, I watch Bea.
Scared and trembling and shaking yet not averting her gaze.
The Blood Blade in his hand meets contact with the center of my back.
It buries deep within me.
I feel the sharpness dig into my spine.
I feel it.
It is sharp and deadly.
Wet with blood.
Yet the metal is still cold.
I feel its pain.
I feel its hurt.
My breath stops. My jaw drops.
I feel it.
I feel it all.
And then I feel nothing.
For that is when I wake.
I wake with a gasp, having difficulty breathing.
I check for wounds. I check for blood.
Nothing.
I am in a small room; the smallest of rooms I've ever been in, I realize. All of it made of metal though it is too dark to see. I barely have enough room to stretch in any direction.
"Where am I?" I murmur under my breath.
I hear a ruffling sound, like a static nearby. As confused and disoriented as I am, I sit up.
My body aches with pain, my head dizzy and numb, causing me to grimace in agony.
"Nine? Five?" I whisper into the darkness of the small claustrophobic space I am in. "Where are you?"
As soon as I try to send the thought telepathically to their minds, a pain so sharp registers in the forefront of my mind.
It is enough to make me scream.
It stings my temples and pounds the base of my skull, like a headache on overkill.
When the burst of pain dies down, I am able to collect some breath. It isn't much and my forehead drips with sweat, but I am able to breathe.
I try to summon my Eneration, but it doesn't come. It only makes the agonizing headache grow severely intense. So much so that I wonder if my brain can handle it or if it will tear itself apart. Even thinking the thought seems to aggravate it.
Then I hear it again.
The static noise. It sounds like a walkie talkie trying to reach a signal but getting muffled out.
Where is it coming from? I have no idea.
I'm in too much pain to think. I collapse back down and curl my legs into my core; hug my knees while I lay on my side and lean my aching head on the cold hard steel.
"John, where are you?" my feeble voice quakes, wanting nothing more than to hear his voice. As I've always heard it in the past. "Please, don't leave me."
I close my eyes when the only thing I am waiting for doesn't come.
I don't know how long I lie there for. I don't know what time it is or how many days have passed. I don't even know where I am.
I only open my eyes when something falls onto my face.
It is rough and tiny, like tiny miniscule pebbles falling from the ceiling. Although in my case, it feels like heavy bricks. I cough when it enters my mouth and spit it back out.
Only then do I realize what it is.
Sand.