1:16AM—Aron M.

1:16am.
It's always that exact number.
Same time, every single night, for the past two weeks.
How do I begin to explain how much that number terrifies me?
I haven't slept for days. I haven't been eating lately. I've been living off of strong black coffees and energy drinks to keep me up.
I don't want to sleep.
I can't sleep.
I remember the first time it happened. I was on my laptop when the clock struck 1:16am. The closet creaked open and the air went cold. Something was crawling out of the closet and coming towards me. I wanted to scream, but I couldn't. It hovered over me and I saw those cold, dead eyes glazed over with a thick mucus. It sunk its long, sharp claws deep into my flesh and tore me apart as I screamed in agonizing pain.
But I couldn't make a sound.
Nothing was coming out of my mouth, and I couldn't move.
Blood soaked my bed sheets and my clothes and flesh were ripped.
The torture went on for what seemed like forever, but was actually an exact minute. As soon as the clock went to 1:17am, my eyes shot open and I bolted up. Everything was as I left it, and any trace of blood was nowhere to be seen.
I thought it was a bad dream.
I thought it was just a figment of my imagination.
But I was wrong.
Every night at precisely 1:16am the torture would begin again. Some nights even worse than others.
I would be lifted off my bed and thrown around like a rag doll. I would be burnt and cut and broken apart.
For only one whole minute, and then every trace of it ever happening would disappear. Driving me insane and making me believe I was crazy and delusional.
I tried everything to make it stop.
Think harder.
Eat less.
Don't faint!
DON'T FAINT!
Think.
Eat.
No, don't.
Can skin burn to be like ashes? Because that's what had happened to me just a few hours ago.
Think.
No, don't.
Will it ever go away?
Will it?
Or will this end in my miserable death?
Will life stop for a few seconds after I'm gone?
It's 1:16am.
And everything is burning.
Breathe.
No, don’t.

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