It's incredibly dark.
So dark that I can't see anything in front of me.
I blink many times, trying adjust my eyes. But not even with my werewolf sight, I can't see. I question for a moment if I actually died, but that's silly. Especially when I run my hand across the plush comforter that's draped up to just under my chin.
I wiggle my fingers, rubbing them across the silk sheets and confirming I'm not dead. I really get a confirmiation when my head begins to throb and pain floods my entire body. It hurts to even move. Which I attempt to do weakly.
I don't even let out a grunt of pain. I can't. My throat feels so dry, a long with my lips. I probably look like I've come back from the dead.
And now that leaves me with where I am. I'm certainly not at the hospital. I discover that when a loud flash, presumably thunder, lights up with the room.
I'm nearly binded for a minute before I focus my eyes long enough to get a glimpse of the wooden walls. Wooden walls?
Was I in some sort of cabin?
Another flash of thunder eliminates the room, this time, I peer around long enough to realize the only thing in this room beside the bed, and of course myself, is a lone chair that's positioned directly next to me.
My eyebrows furrow. Who else was here?
My heart quickens at the thought. So hard that my blood pounds in my ears and I suddenly grow painfully hotter than I like.
It's at that moment that I can hear heavy footsteps and then the squeal of a knob being twisted.
I shut my eyes tightly, pretending to be asleep. Though I highly doubt I'll fool anyone with the rate my heart's going at.
Or the smell of my fear.
I mean, what if those guys came back and did something to Liam? What if they got me and dragged me to their head corridors where they could torture me?
Just like they had in my dreams.
It's true. Most of the time I was passed out, it was all a sea of black. Then there was times where I would dream horrible things containing those exact six men. But what happens to me this time is much worse. And I'm not the only victim.
Liam was in those nightmares too. And Anna. Even my father who I wasn't sure knew of my existence anymore.
Most of the time, they'd make me watch. Their cruel laughter filling my ears a long with Liam's, Anna's, and my father's screams.
I remember one dream in particular. One where I laid in not my own blood, but Liam's. I remember him whispering to me as he died, the same sentence playing like a broken record; "Why didn't you save me Ronnie?"
I could never speak in these dreams. My mouth felt like it was full of cotton each time.
I wanted to tell him I was sorry. That I never meant for this to happen.
The scariest part was that I could never wake myself from these dreams. I was stuck in an endless pit of despair.
But now I'm not. This is real. This isn't a dream. And whatever happens right now, is real.
I can hear the squeak of the door as it opens, letting in a cold draft and a light that ulimates everything just beyond my eyelids.
I'm tempted to reach up and cover myself from the brightness that itches at me. I don't. I remain as still as possible, not even daring to draw in a breath.
