My Nightmare

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
Sometimes I still have nightmares that my ex is trying to kill me and I'm trying to get away from her. This is one of them.

Submitted: July 05, 2015

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Submitted: July 05, 2015

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18355012-Psycho-killer-An-hand-drawing--

First thing I remember is she was there, in some type of house, where me and my girlfriend were attending a party/get-together thing. It was like when you hear your ex is gonna be there but the host or friend who invited you convinces you to still attend, and when you see each other across the room, your face is scarlet and your heart is racing and every voice is muffled and you have to look down and talk to your now-girlfriend, struggling to act casual.

So, next thing I know, since my girlfriend was like, "Isn't that the one who was a crazy psycho?" or whatever, Ex immediately heard and smiling, arrogant-like, came up and said "What?" I went, "Yeah, I've come to terms that you were a manipulative emotionally abusive person."

Needless to say, this would never happen in real life. I wouldn't tell an ex what I think of them unless they tried to do something wrong, as distant strangers, first. I would never want to talk to her again, much less indicate what I found out about just how psychologically screwed up she was, unless maybe a therapist and she came to me asking me to help her out by reflecting back on the better part of our early twenties and specific incidents that relate to her psychologically being screwed up. She would have to respect my intelligence a lot to even ask an opinion on that, much less calm down and have a non-aggressive ear when I'd be putting things into a psychological perspective. Like, incident one: fight over tacos. Who overreacted here? You. Why? Because anything showing someone doesn't do the right thing that would be nice and accommodating you justifies your anger and sadness, in your eyes, which is because you have BPD, and it's not right. And so on and so forth.

That's not how it was in this nightmare. At all. She was still the same as ever and it was going to turn into this huge fight where I had to fear for my safety because I felt I couldn't escape the situation. 'Fight' is an understatement.

Next thing I know, it turned way violent. She was going to kill me. The nightmare was so haunting, it was psychotic. It was like I was a psycho killer who thought she had been in love with another psycho killer, realizing that she will never escape her and all her abusive tactics, so one of them has to kill the other. I'm so glad this is not the way it is and I'm not a prisoner of her anymore, but that's how it used to feel like it would end up.

The imagery was disturbing. Suddenly, we're outside of the party's house--one of those rich houses that are cabin-like, built into the side of a yellowed-grassy hill, but there was no one anywhere to be seen. It was deserted. Rain forest scenery decorated the hillside, where the slope was so steep, I was afraid I wouldn't make it up.

I was running away from her. Because I had pushed her off a cliff.

There had been like, an opening, around the other side of the cabin, kind of like in a Tomb Raider scene where the opening to outside just shows pale blue sky, and the rock you're standing on abruptly drops at the opening. It's a pitfall of a drop, and when you glance down, afraid to fall, there's shallow running water, hitting rocks, like 5 stories down, with a nearby waterfall ahead. It was fucking scary. Some altercation happened, that made sense at the time, and it was either her or me--one of us had to die.

So I pushed her.

But I knew she couldn't be dead. She was gonna have a disfigured face, teeth falling out, with a fucking broken, revealed bone in her arm and leg and shit, torn up bloody clothes, limping quickly, but she would never die.

So I started running. I had to get away, because she was gonna be so full of adrenaline, she would live just as long as it takes to kill me--like a dog who gets hit by a car and keeps running until it runs out of adrenaline and dies.

Her anger is what keeps her alive.

Next thing I know, after dodging trees, trying to shadow myself, like it's a video game, I reach some type of street market. There's an old school mini TV on, dilapidated milk crates, huts built out of shabby wood, dirt road--might as well be tumbleweeds. And then I see a little pelican on the ground, dead. Like it's one of those mini hens they eat in 90's sitcoms, but a white pelican. When I look in its beak, what could possibly be fish is in their but looks like a blood sausage, or a giant worm, or intestines. While Mr. Rogers plays on the TV or some shit. :/

She never caught up to me, but I was scared for my life. That's where it ended.


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