It all started the same as it did every night, the cloying blackness of the night bearing down on her like a heavy object had been placed upon her chest. Soon sleep would claim her, just as it always did, and then the madness would begin. It hadn't always been this way, no, once she had been happy. She had even been surrounded by people who loved her, a husband, Jack and a young daughter, Jess. Why did they have to be ripped from her? Why did they have to die? This was always the last thought that would penetrate her deluded and convoluted mind, before her eyes grew heavy and closed for the night.
Life hadn't been like this just a mere two years before hand, she had been happy, a newly wed women with a beautiful baby girl, how had it all gone wrong? Two years ago it had all happened, the accident had killed her husband had also killed part of her in the process, Jack had gone to work that day and never returned. Apparently there had been an accident at the logging plant where he worked, one slip had cost him his life. It was sad, Jack was the kind of person who would triple check the doors before leaving the house. Why had he died this way? She never found out. It was after that, that the dreams started, dreams of seeing him again hearing his voice one last time, but they always ended with blood and the cloying stench of death and decay. Blackness, everlasting blackness would stare back at her from under Jacks long blonde hair, thats how the dreams always ended never anything more to guide her, nothing any doctor could do for her. The tablets they prescribed didn't work, any therapy didn't work, eventually she had been sectioned for her own health. Even in the Marlyland Mental Institute, everything had got worse, the dreams more vivid more fractal. Now she wouldnt just see Jack, she would kill him, the taste of blood being fresh in her mouth the next morning and alongside this strange marks had started appearing on the walls of her cell seemingly written in blood.
Formulas, recipes, and complex drawings of summoning circles with amounts of detail only those very versed in the occult would systematically appear each morning but when she would look away they would be gone. This was her life now, torn in between what seemed to be two worlds the waking world and the pained world of sleep, mentally draining her of any sanity she had left, destroying her. Breaking her down, destroying her, the lines between reality and sleep were beginning to fade now. Her life was now a struggle, a former shell of the women she once was destroyed by the demons that haunted her very soul. This is her story, her name is Sarah Summers.