Breathless, Philip Rogers made his way throughout the black and red forest, running as fast as he could while he tried to escape from the dark thing that was chasing him. The vermilion sky turned into fog over the unclear horizon. The ground was cold and wet under his naked feet, and with every step forward he sensed the darkness closer than before, just about to swallow him.

His ears buzzed painfully. He could feel his heartbeat throbbing in his head, and his lungs could not make oxygen fast enough to keep him breathing. His legs were too heavy to keep him going. He was about to faint, but doing so would set his body just at the mercy of whatever underworldly creature was behind him, trying to devour him. He could feel its cold presence right there, inches away. It was hungry and it did not get tired of the chase. Philip was the prey.

All of a sudden, in front of his eyes, emerged a stairwell made of rock and metal that led to the entrance of a large, sombre castle, darker than darkness itself, with broken windows and a gigantic front gate. With no time to stop or think, Philip climbed up and reached the gate, but it was locked. He threw punches at it with rage; one, two, five times, like a drummer playing a bleak song of despair.

"HELP!", he screamed. "PLEASE! SOMEONE HELP ME!".

But no one was listening. No one would open up. No one ever did. He didn't want to look back because he did not want to see its face, the face of the monster. He was terrified.

He could sense it coming near. He could sense its dark halo approaching. It was too late.

He clenched his eyes as if it could dissolve in the darkness it came from if he did not see it, but a cold touch posed on his shoulder. Slowly, a skeletal hand with sharp claws wrapped around his neck and squeezed. A whisper in his ear froze his limbs and numbed his heart to the point it wasn't beating anymore. The game was over to Philip Rogers.

"I got you".

The hand let go of his neck and as the air returned to his lungs he felt the claw nailing on the skin of his back, ripping his flesh. It didn't even let him breathe again. He watched the blood splattering almost in slow motion. He lowered his gaze meeting his torso, only to see red pouring out from him. His face smashed the cold ground in a clatter that deafen his ears as he could see and feel a thick pool of blood coming out of his mouth. Slowly, his lids closed and darkness embraced him, taking the pain away.

He rose from his bed in the worst of the horrors, cold sweat had soaked his shirt and so the sheets. He crawled to a corner of his room, between the desk and the window where he cried silently, hugging his knees.

Was it over? He could still perceive the awful monstrosity creeping behind him.

But as the cold morning light passed through his lids his heart started to beat slower and his body stopped shaking.

Just like every night.

Just like every hideous, endless night since he could remember.

Nightmares had been his curse, his prison for a long time now. Every dusk brought the same terror, the same endless and torturous dream of the same grotesque scene depicting his death at hands of a creature he never dares to see. Sometimes he would wake up in pain, in the middle of the garden, or the kitchen, tired of wandering around. Sometimes dreams leaked into reality, and he remembered things he shouldn't even know about. Dark things stained with blood.

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Philip dried his tears and brushed his eyes as weeps kept escaping from his mouth. He needed to know if he was still sleeping. It had been such a long, vivid dream.

The door swung open in a blare.

"Are you alright?", his mother rushed to hold him in her warm arms, and as her kiss posed on his forehead, Philip came back to existence. "Another bad dream?", she said rhetorically, already aware of the answer.

"I'm okay...", the boy whispered.

"I'm going to phone Dr Grey to tell him that the new pills are not working. It's the fourth nightmare of the week. They should be working by now right?"

"It's fine mum, these things take time."

"He said they should work better than the last ones, and they're not working at all. I'll phone him. That's why I pay him for."

The slender woman sounded nervous and upset. Philip knew how much she cared for him. Her face used to be juvenile once, framed by lovely strawberry blonde hair and adorned with deep grey eyes, but at this point, she had grown some greyish threads on the soft hair she had no time to take care of; the black circles in her eyes had turned deeper and her cheekbones were more visible now. She seemed to have aged fifty years in sixteen. Philip hated himself for doing that to her.

"Mum!", he yelled, still with a shaky voice. "Don't. Is not his fault. I skipped the pills."

"You did what?"

"Yeah...and I'm sorry..."

"Why would you do that? The medicine is supposed to help you sleep."

"Yeah, but they don't take the nightmares away. Most of the time I'm just too drugged to even wake up. I hate them, alright? They make me feel bad, heavy, they give me an awful taste and they keep me like a zombie most of the day."

"Philip...", she cried, taking her hands to cover her face in awe. "That's not fair. You have to take the damn pills. You are not okay. This is just like that time...You know what happens after all these sleepless nights. Your body won't take it much longer. Please... I don't want to lose you."

Her expression was of someone who was staring at a corpse. Philip recalled the last time he was tubed on a hospital bed, after falling from the roof while sleepwalking.

"What if I want to die?"

Philip's mother let a cry out as a dagger had just thrust into her heart.

"Don't ever say that again! You're so selfish, Philip!"

"Selfish? Me? I'm the one stuck in here remember?", he jumped on his feet raising his tone. Tears burst out. "I'm the one who hasn't lived anything at all, from one hospital to another. While other teenagers go to parties and make friends I'm high on pills and incapable of having a normal life! I can't even go to school anymore, mum! Do you really think this is much different from being dead?!"

"Just remember you're not alone in this Philip! I had to quit a lot of things too. My life changed drastically as well!! I've made a lot of sacrifices and I don't regret them, but at least you could have a little bit of consideration."

"I'm suffering mum...badly. You can pretend to understand but you don't know what it is like. You don't know how it feels...Why on earth did you bring to life such a damaged thing like me? Why?"

The woman hugged him but he pushed her away. Not knowing what to say, she grabbed the pills jar from off the nightstand and offered it to him.

"Sweetheart...I love you. I'm trying to help you because I hate to see you going through all this. It's painful. I wish I could do more, but this is all we have. Please, Philip, take the pill and go to bed. You need to sleep, you've been awake for too long...Let's try this for a while until we can find you a better treatment. Please..."

Philip looked at her with hate. He grabbed the plastic jar, pulled out a pill and swallowed it.

"Leave. I wanna be alone."

Adaline wiped her tears and shut the door behind her. Philip crawled into his bed and closed his eyes, only to see the vivid memory of his nightmare once more. He wanted to disappear, to evaporate, like a drop of rain getting heated by the sun. He could feel his heartbeat slowing down and his limbs starting to feel heavier a few minutes after he swallowed the white little thing.

Before he could close his eyes he took another one and faded away. He would've wanted to remain asleep for the rest of his life, but he wanted to sleep without the nightmares.

But life had other plans for Philip Rogers, and the true nightmare had just begun.