12 midnight as I am trying to escape from sleep, I sit in my bed with my guitar strumming quietly, “I've been looking in the mirror for so long. That I've come to believe my soul's on the other side. All the little pieces falling shatter. Shards of me, too sharp to put back together... Too small to matter, but big enough to cut me into so many little pieces…” I sing quietly as I strum the basic tunes of my favorite song “Breathe No More” by Evanescense.
I was sitting there for almost four hours with my lights off. I really hate night time, for it frights me a lot. But it isn’t the darkness that scares me nor the creeping cricket’s sound around our home, it’s the place where my subconscious mind wander when I’m asleep. “My own personal doom”. There is nothing I can do to fully escape from this trap. As humans, we are bound to rest and sleep. I can’t do anything to escape from this torment, but all I can do is scream, scream for my life… Just scream.
A quarter had passed; still I am sitting in my bed fighting the urge to sleep. But my eyes are heavy enough and I can’t help myself but close those eyes and lie there, and shudder in fear.
“It’s going to be ok; please it’s going to be ok”. I silently say over and over in my head however I know it is NOT going to be ok…. I am going to die again like I have every night when I close my eyes. For about one month, I keep having nightmares. It keeps hunting my soul, my mind…
I feel my eyes forced to shut and despite my strongest attempts to resist, still the god of sleep had put its spell on me. So here it goes again, MY TORTURE BEGINS…
* * * * * *
I am lying there, unconscious. Suddenly, a deafening scream wakes me. My eyes stare at the plain roof, my shoulder touches the cold brick wall. I try to search for something around me with my eyes and I am stunned to see a wounded lady with chains in her arms and legs. It is dark all around; I can’t be able to see her face clearly. All I can see is her eyes with crimson tears flowing down on her face. She is screaming, screaming for help.
I feel helpless, afraid, horrified, tortured, and sick. I am unable to help her as she spreads her arm towards me.
“HELP me! Please!! Help me!”The torture makes me draw back each time.I can no longer endure this. How can I end this? I can’t.
I leap out from lying. I can’t just lie there and do nothing.
“HOLD ON!” I scream as I run with my bare feet hitting sharp rocks on the ground. I feel a thousand of thorns are pinch in my skin as I take my every step. Still, I ignore the pain and come closer to help her.
I look around and I saw a huge window with the frame stained with blood. The window frames suddenly burst into flames, the brick walls suddenly became a cave. I stare through the bloody glass and I see a figure. It is wearing all black, and its face is covered by a mask of darkness. The figure draws a knife and an hour glass and it is coming closer to the lady, as if telling her that her time already comes. While she screams with all her might, it’s infecting my heart to see her suffer that way, I do not know why, we’re not friends either, and I was not even close to her.
When I was almost near to her, the figure hit me with his hand. I fall in the ground and hit my head into the wall. I am helpless. My head bleeds a lot of blood, I want to faint to stop the pain I feel that time but the torment keeps me awake.
I forced to open my eyes, and the lady was already gone. The chains and the blood on the ground ? all are gone. But, the figure? Is still there, and… coming closer to me! I gasp as I struggle to rise. No! It can’t be. I will never let myself be caught.
I gasp as I stare at the kilos of chains each as thick as my arm crushing me. Suddenly I feel the figure weight on me. It is now I stare into its eyes, a silvery dark brown eye. Full of sorrow and hatred and yet they sparkle like the stars twinkling in the darkest night.
“Please.” I whisper shakily. This seems to please the figure. As I stare it in the eye I realize it doesn’t want to scare me or torture me.
As I gasp for life, the figure shows me blurred pictures, as I carefully watch the images… I see myself, during the times when I am down, when I feel the world is against me. Suddenly the figure shows me again “something”. What’s this? A water? No. those are tears, my tears. The tears I had shed when I’m in pain.
“You wanted this?” the figure asks.
The figure smiles and removes the mask as I feel my life slipping away. I stare into the face of my attacker. Round featured with long straight dyed hair and those dark brown eyes. I am staring at myself. I feel an aching in my heart, those pictures remind me how hard and painful I had gone through in my life, suddenly tears start to gush like blood from my eyes. Then my eyes begin to see nothing, but darkness.
I wake sweating and gasping as I shoot on a sitting position. I allow my tears to flow as I look to the table next to my bed. My Bible rest there, I then realize that it was about a month since I last opened it. Suddenly, guilt rush in my veins. I open my Bible and start reading a verse, “We are perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not forsaken, cast down, but not destroyed ? 2Corinthians 4:8-9. I continue to read the following verses, and suddenly realization hit me.
I bow my head and pray. After all this time, after all this pain, how such a fool I am to forget about my God, my Savior. I had let myself drowned with my own despair that I stopped thinking that I have a never failing helper above. I confess my sins and I begin to feel a sudden change in my emotions, I feel alive now. It’s like my soul is raise from the dead.
“DO I really want darkness? Do I really want pain?” For almost a month, these questions remained unanswered in my mind. But by now, I have my answer.
“NO.” I answer. It is now I allow myself to cry. My hand claw as I brush them from my forehead roughly through my hair.
“Dear, time for school!” Mother voice rings. I wipe my tears as I put a smile in my lips and sweetly answered,
“I do not want darkness” I whisper again as I hug my Bible tightly.
© Copyright 2016 Eunice Garcia. All rights reserved.
Short Story / Poetry
Short Story / Other
Short Story / Other
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