Midnight
-Somewhere Dark-
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I run and run through a dark forest, my barefoot digging the dirt beneath my soles with each desperate step, twigs snapping and prying open my skin, bleeding me like a pig; rocks break the nails of my toes, exposing the pulsating, sensitive meat once protected underneath to the cold, suffocating air.
Only the sound from me reverberates in the woods: my heavy breathing, paired with the insanity-inducing white noise and the noisy beating of my heart against my ear.
Silence—I have a little time left.
Every scream that leaves me is swallowed by the wind as the wicked winter howls.
Having eyes lose purpose in the dark as I'm stripped of my sight almost completely, now serving only to confuse my already insane mind when they catch a tree moving; questions arise if I'm alone or not in this limbo.
Then, the waves break; a simple house shines in the distance—one of the few things that I'm allowed to see clearly—turning me into a drawn moth towards the fire.
Swallowing the fear down my chest, I grow closer to the house's back door, passing by a garden with a homemade swing, kid toys, and a doll whose eyes follow my every movement.
Placing a cold hand on the even colder handle, it's easy to twist it open; in my rush, I'm unable to avoid tripping down and end up hitting my shoulder on the door, pain echoing back and forth in my core as I fall.
Finally, I'm inside; the moment I'm granted my complete sight back, I look around while finding my balance again.
Unfortunately, even as I stop running, there isn't a feeling of safety to be felt—only a nagging on the back of my head.
Figures distorted of what should be furniture, voices echoing—too many at the same time for my mind to process.
Bending and placing my hand on my knees, deep, moldy air takes over the lungs, accompanied by a sharp headache; images flash in my mind: Keys, a radio, a ski mask, and a gun—something I dreamed of? What does it mean?
It is all too familiar; even so, I can't seem to remember.
It feels claustrophobic, like the walls are closing in, and something is out, hunting for me.
Doors start squeaking without being open, floors creaking devoid of steps, and something dares to breathe against my ear hoarsely.
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The time to rest ends abruptly; a fire burns; the house seems to have woken. Something inside of me stirs, telling me to run; I might just have walked into the beast's jaw.
I look around for an exit, but before I can find one, a sharp pain hits me, engulfing me so strongly that the feeling is that I'm going to pass out soon.
Something shining on the ground underneath a rotten wooden board steals my attention.
As I'm brought to my knees by the pain, I decide to investigate so I don't succumb, feeling that if I do give up, I die.
Raising my fist feels hard, like lifting a body, and bringing it down feels wrong—smashing the rotten wood in pieces in order to reveal what should be kept buried forever.
Not even giving myself time to process the image, I wrap my fingers around it and bring it out; doing so, I blink.
Something changes; the air feels a bit easier to breathe—less putrid.
"It's best if we wait; if it is just the two of us, we won't be able to do anything." A voice warns me, shaky and anxious; holding my arm, the person the voice belongs to holds me—a chain, freezing me in place. "Backup will be here soon. Let's wait for them."
I remember this scene; it was hell even before it started.
Melissa and I had just arrived at the scene after we got the occurrence by the radio; back then, she was too scared to do anything; we just had joined the force.
Her fear...I should have resonated with it; perhaps if I had, I wouldn't be haunted to this day by what followed.
Instead, when I heard the screams, I didn't think twice before I jumped out of the vehicle; the car key dangled in my hand, the same as the flashing images and the item I just found; how hadn't I recognized it until now?
Some bandits, escaping the police from the big city after a failed heist, decided to find a spot to lay low until the smoke was gone. The perfect place for that was our city, of course; we are all blessed.
They had chosen a random house they thought to be empty due to the reforming material pooled on the veranda; they were wrong. The house wasn't empty; on the contrary, a happy family had just moved in and was renovating it.
Their faces, I could never forget. When I saw the two bandits pulling an angry father, a protective mother, and their terrified daughter out of the house to use as hostages, how the kid cried, hugging a doll in her arms, and how the men, wearing ski masks, were surprised to see a lone officer in front of them.
They pointed their gun at me, barking orders that never reached my ears, and I aimed mine right back at them; at that moment, there was no turning back. The pieces were already in place.
At that moment, I was one hundred percent taken by adrenaline, so when a gunshot suddenly ripped the air and a bullet passed centimeters from my ear, I reacted mindlessly.
Shot after shot, one after the other, the gun screamed in my hand; my fingers felt glued to it, and my eyes blurred until all I could see were distorted figures and red painting the walls.
Luckily, before I'm forced to relieve any more of this haunting scene, I blink and am taken back to the woods.
The forest is revealed to me; all the trees that moved before showing their true form: people, stripped of any human features, composed of a black liquid, all looking at me with void eyes. Even without distinguishable faces, they are all familiar to me; I could never forget, even if I tried.
This time, too tired of running, I instead fall to the ground, hitting my knees on the sharp, cutting grass below, waiting for my punishment.
The dark liquid starts to hug me as soon as it gets close to my frail body, pulling me under the corrupted soil, where I deserve to be.
...
Of course, it is never that easy. This isn't the end; the nightmare has just begun.
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