Troubled Sleep

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Mystery and Crime  |  House: Booksie Classic
This is part 1 of a 2 part story! Please give feedback of what you think! Also if i should post the rest of the story. Thank you for reading!

Submitted: February 16, 2016

A A A | A A A

Submitted: February 16, 2016



A blood soaked bathroom was not what I intended to wake up to. Laying there in the filth of depravity and despair; my thoughts now swarming with questions. What innocence I had was lost, as I dove into the depths of corruption. Remnants of only horrifying images were left from what happened to get me here. I was surrounded by my worst nightmare; literally, the entire room was filled with dead bodies. I laid in a state of shock, was I in some sort of drugged illusion? I was utterly clueless as to how I got there; it all felt unreal and foggy. I tried to raise myself up from the ground, but my body rejected the action. I couldn’t move a single muscle, I felt as though it was pinned down by an invisible force. From the corner of my eye I saw something move, my throat strained to let out a scream but that also failed. I’m not going to describe what I saw, it wasn’t like anything seen before. All I could make out in the short seconds it scurried across the ceiling, was its formless but still strikingly terrifying body. Leaving a throbbing humming noise which echoed through the room. 
Panic shot through me, I was dead. I had to be. Why was I stuck here? Could I be in-between death and life? All of these thoughts screeched through me within seconds, it felt as though this nightmarish existence would never end.  Finally, after what felt like hours of torture I was able to wake up. My brain was spinning, especially since what I had just seen in that nightmarish occurrence. Except there was one problem, what I just woke up from was real.

The only memories that I could conjure, were just foggy and disturbing. My heart sank; my body numbed by pain and fear. I just wanted to have a good independent life, but the world was not kind on my innocence. I believed I was a moral person, until now. The world must have thrown me into the deep recesses of immorality.  How was I dragged into this? Guilt washed over me. It was all a hypnogogic situation, but this was reality I had to face. A raw and agonizing existence. My head spun excruciatingly, why didn’t I die? It was then when I heard the sickening humming noise again. 

 Noticing that I could move; I scrambled up from the floor, a sharp pain shot through me. Innumerable cuts scattered across my body, adrenaline pumping, my vision became blurred. I grabbed hold onto the bathroom sink for support as I recollected myself. A shallow stream of blood trickled down from the array of unknown bodies, pooling at my feet. Glass shards violently scattered on the floor, no doubt pieces from the shattered bathroom mirror. There was a bloodied bar of metal adjacent to one of the victims outstretched arm. As if she was using every last bit of strength to grasp for life, a chance to redeem this wrong. I felt their eyes stare into my soul, judging me, as if I was to blame. What more happened I couldn’t explain, no one would ever believe me.
Mortified by the scene I was witnessing, I flung myself out the open door of the bathroom. Fresh air filled my lungs, though the revolting odor was still emanating from the bathroom. The moon came out from a blanket of clouds, shining light upon a swimming pool before me. It was still and serene, a lovely sight compared to the filth I had witnessed. Where am I? A million thoughts went through me, “What was I to do? Call the police? Ambulance? Wash the blood off my clothes and leave without telling anyone? Why was I alive and no one else?”  I didn’t want to go back in the bathroom, the scene was so gruesome. Any decent individual would check for any signs of life, but my selfish being couldn’t bear that monstrosity any longer. This all felt unreal, an augmented reality; a paralyzing nightmare that I was ready to wake up from. What made it more surreal was not knowing where I was, why even was I at a pool? The humming became more intense, I darted towards an exit sign. I used every ounce of energy I could to keep going until I couldn’t go any further. As I gasped for breath, I checked the pockets of my blood stained clothes, my numb fingers grasping at any sort of possession I owned. My phone was smashed, and I was completely lost. No one to go to, my mind bogged in what felt like complete amnesia what was left for me to do? I wanted to scream out from all the emotions welling up inside of me, as if that would help me. The indescribable feeling of your whole world being turned upside down. I fell on my knees, the feeling of total helplessness crippled me. Though as I started to regain myself more, the pain became more intense. I had failed to notice through all the trauma that my side was bleeding excessively. Sleep became more and more appealing, the inevitable darkness I couldn’t fight against.  My wounded form crashing to the ground, while time began to slow down. As my mind began to silently pass through unknown transcendental plains; I gave up fighting against it and then everything stopped.

When I woke up bright lights shone on me, my vision was completely impaired. A tranquil calm hung in the air, and thankfully the humming noise was gone. This time instead of waking up to a cold hard reality, it seemed more comforting and inviting. Or maybe that was just the fact I had a blanket covering me. “I can’t see anything…” I groaned, minutes passed as I became more aware of my surroundings. I was in the living room of my apartment, lying on the couch with more pillows than justifiable. Warm light streamed in through the window; this seemed so picturesque from whatever nightmare I had. I breathed a sigh of relief, it was as if a thousand pound weight had been lifted off my shoulders. Though I still had acquired a throbbing headache somehow; maybe remnants from my troubled sleep. I felt sick, exhausted, and ready to do absolutely nothing. I grabbed the remote, and switched on the TV hoping to clear my mind. The local news station popped up, Ugh the news is always so depressing, let’s watch something brainless. As I was about to change the channel, it was then that my friend Becca Sterling was on the news. I was surprised to see a story about her, memories of our time together flooded my mind. She was always the type you would bring to a party, very bubbly, enthusiastic, and cheerful. Everyone loved her, for good reason too. She was one of the few people I’ve known since childhood, our bond was very close. I remember we would always prank the guy’s dorm together in college, reminiscing about our youth was usually both hilarious and informative to other people. We were the weird kids in high school, I still have the pictures our disastrous high school phases, but then again everyone has memories similar so regret isn’t a rare occurrence. Excitedly I picked up the phone ready to call her, except it was then when they decided to show the police photos. The news anchor looked grim, “And now for a very tragic story about a Miss Becca Sterling, a security guard found her body floating in a public pool dead. The investigators on scene have reported cause of death was drowning, but most likely because of a drunken stupor. Our hearts go out to her family and friends right now.” The first reporter read off the page, “Oh yes John that’s terrible, and so please be safe out there whenever you go swimming everyone. Now for our next story…”  Quoted the other News host, her voice seemed like it was struggling to care but failed. I panicked and shut the TV off, the images shown was the exact same pool from the bloodied scene I witnessed. I was in shock as I stared into the seeming abyss of my life, as if the fates came down to ruin it. Agonizing tears streamed down my face, as I wanted to deny everything just shown. I didn’t want it to be tangible. Why can’t this all just stop. My body went cold, my emotions took over as I wept for seemingly hours on end. My phone kept ringing incessantly, I didn’t answer. Not until I was ready to face this. Off in the distance I could hear my door open and shut quickly. When my husband found me, it was to his shock that I had situated myself in the corner sobbing. He quickly consoled me, and I struggled to explain everything that happened. From the pool all the way to the news and now Becca’s demise. He hurriedly pulled out his phone and made calls to Becca’s family to confirm the death. After a few seconds of hopefulness that the news were wrong, his face became dark and ominous as he nodded to me. Confirming the truth, it marked the inevitable start of my descent into chaos.

The funeral was as miserably gloomy and overshadowing as you would expect. My husband Cain had been kind enough to explain everything I didn’t comprehend about that fateful day. It was a evening of heavy drinking on our part. We went for a girl’s night out, hoping that any previous stress we could drink off. We did this ever so often, and later into the night became completely intoxicated. Our drugged minds must have thought the pool was a good idea, without any thought as to what it could entail. Needless to say I stumbled my way into the bathroom, and in a drunken state had ultimately broke the mirror. Which scarred and knocked me to the ground, while she had gone for a fateful swim. The rest is history to us all. Cain found me last passed out on the ground outside our apartment complex, he quickly carried me inside. Nonetheless I felt responsible and thoroughly scarred mentally and physically. During the ceremony Becca’s family glared at me, which made the pain excruciating. I solemnly left, my head hung heavy in mourning. No words came out, nor could I speak to her family. They had distanced themselves, I expect to never hear from them again.
The journey home was silent, though in my mind I replayed any memories capable of our last night together. Cain had been trying to lessen the pain, nevertheless we both knew that time was the best option.

Days after the funeral depression kicked in, I contacted the few remaining friends I had. They all told me therapy was a good idea, Cain agreed with them. The current unemployment I was facing didn’t help cheer me up, so most days I stayed at home binge watching shows to get my mind off Becca. By this point my grief was overwhelming, so I called in and made the appointment for a local therapist. Doctor Dhriti seemed nice, Cain read the reviews online in which they gave her excellent ratings. The decision was solid, even though the idea of telling people my darkest secrets wasn’t very appealing. I was tempted to cancel, what if she thinks I’m completely nuts? When I got to the office, the receptionist greeted me shyly. Her eyes hidden behind the extra-large reading glasses, her mousey brown hair distractingly frizzy. She quietly ushered me into the office, where Doctor Dhriti had just finished with the last client. “Good morning! I’m Doctor Dhriti, please take a seat.” I silently sat down without question, she gave some time to get to know me before “Diagnosing” my problems. I unleashed everything I had built up inside of me, even my experiences at the pool. Her eyes fixated on me as I spoke, occasionally jotting down notes. After our time was about up, I felt so much release from all the emotions I had welled up. Except one thing that didn’t make me feel better was her conclusion. She had diagnosed me with Psychotic Depression, in short it causes hallucinations and paralysis. She kindly explained that I may continue to have hallucinations, but to ignore them and relax. Which did not sound easy in the slightest. Then with that settled gave me the prescription for anti-depressants, sleeping pills, and a large sum I wasn’t ready to pay.

Use of the medication gave unexpected results, my headaches became more frequent. The sleeping pills seemed to work alright, although Cain is deathly afraid of me overdosing on them. He does has a valid point, what could taking too many pills entail except for death? I’ve stopped drinking since the incident, my phobia of hallucinations has completely left me sober. He has begun to notice my quirks now, to me the pills have enhanced my paranoia. Administering nervous ticks every so often. Out of habit I searched the internet desperately for the answer to my problems. Most articles were enforcing meditation, a quote “Relief from your stress, making you a calmer more collected individual. Allowing you to have an increased and sophisticated intellect.” In a way I was envious of those who actually could do this and reap all the benefits. As I continued to explore different ideas, time had flown by faster than expected. Viewing out the window, the sun was taking center stage as it slowly set in the sky. Painting vibrant pink and red hues across the horizon. The beauty of something so simple, but still breathtaking. Soon it left, like most things you love. Enriching your life for a short period, then it’s ripped away from you. “Because all good things must come to an end”, or so they say. Instead of wallowing in pain, the therapist told me to find something that gives me joy.
My stale mind couldn’t comprehend joy; I continued gazing out the window until I heard the faint footsteps of Cain coming in from work. I ignored him, not exactly intentionally. Nevertheless he was adamant with checking my well-being. He was so tolerant of my pain, but I knew he wasn’t internally happy with the situation. No one would be. The night was bleak, I decided to take the pills earlier than I was supposed to. I just wanted an escape from reality, my dreams although vague and seldom remembered. Might bring me a fleeting moment of happiness; I drug my feet as I made my way to the bedroom. Closing the door behind me so not to be disturbed. Maybe I can find peace finally… I believed, even the slight chance of hope was something to grab onto. And with that I drifted off again to the unforeseen nightmares I was about to experience.

Crude brick walls encased me, whilst I stood alone; clueless as to my location. I was seemly placed in an ominous ally, a rusted chain fence faced me. I spun frantically around to find the exit, this feeling was way too familiar. I was in between two buildings unknown to me. Only lit by the dim and extremely sketchy lighting next to the employee entrance (as stated by the rusted sign hanging on the door). Random bottles laid scattered across the filthy concrete. The buildings looked abandoned, though you could hear faint voices coming from inside. Vacated buildings similar to these are used by the shunned and discarded of society. The cold night air chilled me to the core, leaving me in want of shelter.
Wait, am I dreaming? Are these side effects from the pills? I drug my bare feet across the hard concrete, until on my way out I tripped and fell too close for comfort. For there in front of me lay victim a man stabbed to death, his clothes soaked in blood. The murder weapon was still jutting out from the fatal blow. Anamnesis and horror blasted through me. His face of utter shock glared up and into my soul. My screams echoed the streets, only muffled by the cold night air. The same intense humming started blaring through my ears. Panic shook me, I was trembling uncontrollably. It’s a hallucination. This isn’t reality.  My attempts at tranquilizing my fears seemed highly unattainable.  I must be going crazy.. The intense throbbing came back, as though my heart was trying to burst out of my chest in the most painful way possible. Breathing became increasingly more difficult, and soon my focus was just gasping for air. My life was revolving in a continuous cycle of suffering, pain, fear, and ultimately death. Was I deserving of this? It’s like if you took every diabolical thing you have hidden in the recesses of your mind, and then see it before you. The terror that ensues is one too complex to explain. Struggling to get up, I clawed the wall for support, then proceeded to dart out of the ally. Desperately searching for someone to help, but the streets were completely abandoned. My cries resonated through the deserted structures, I took off, escaping my nightmare. Finally I reached a park, thankfully one that I recognized. This beautiful sanctuary was extremely close to my home. I laid in the cool grass to regain my energy, viewing up into the cosmos. Once I can get to the apartment this will all end. I repeated it over and over, trying to calm my fears. Unless this never ends. Which is a thought even more terrifying then what I just witnessed.

© Copyright 2018 Lainia Wing. All rights reserved.

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