I feet audibly squelch in a damp carpet filled with the grease of millions of deaths, in a color of pale yellow stains. It's moldy with the stench of rotting fibers, and it's rugged not unlike the truth. And the walls, they have the irregular peeling wallpaper, with the same pattern repeating, as it's scratched and torn throughout the halls. It's yellow and underneath the torn bits is more monochromatic yellow. The air is still with an odd uncertainty of stale breath. The air is so still that the feelings of the air are nearly invisible, yet it gives the shivering sense of being watched. The ceiling is home to the office tiling with panels of a scratchy material, containing objects of many, but it's also the resting place of the fluorescent lights. These lights emit a flickering sound, like a scratchy record with no audio, as it also produces a hum so loud it could drive me insane, like a swarm of bugs at every corner of my vision.
Cold sweat drips down my face, and darkness covers me entirely. I was… I was- it was, a dream. The cold sweat turns in to hot sweat, like the rain dripping and drumming from outside, from far, far away. The wind howls like a hawk, quietly yet fiercely, it is faint and distance but I can feel it reverberate through my room. I'm… finally back from that… hellhole. I sigh audibly, and stare off into the ceiling. It was a… dream. I can see my surroundings faintly, only the contrasting edges, the faint outline of a place I'm glad to be in. I shift to look lower down, at myself, and see my phone, with its case scratched and worn with use, and its screen cracked lightly in multiple locations. It turns on with a buzz, a notification bringing it to life.
The notification buzzes about the screen like a bug waiting to be swatted, only without sound. The text reads like a burning hunger that I cannot take my eyes off. Why-no, who is this? I look deeper into the screen, but nothing gives any hints as to what it is.
Another notification pops up, just like the same desperate call for attention as before. An unsettling message that brings rage to this room that burns like cold, cold fire. I try to hide my screen from glowing as best as I can possibly do so, shrouding it with my blanket that I lie under. I breath heaves for effort, silently breathing in air that feels my heavier that it ever should be. My hearts starts beating faster and faster as I stare at this message, like a ball rolling down a ramp only gaining speed.
What is this talking about? I try to listen to the glitching message, not knowing exactly what it means, only knowing that my best bet is to be silent. I try to hold my breath, but the fierce emotions don't quite let me do so. So, I try to slow my breathing, from a nature of hyperventilating to a slow, but not quite calm, pace. This can't be true. I-I'm at home, aren't I?T-this can't be true. Silent thoughts rage in my mind like a storm only worsened by thoughts, a spiral deep into the depths of my mind. I feel the prickling sensation of being watched, from the other side, and I want to turn around and see… but I can't.
The messages are losing focus, losing… connection. How-no, what do I do? T-this is-isn't real. These m-messages are fake. I try to ignore the messages, not looking at them, yet still avoiding to moving at all. My eyes twitch in the curiosity of what it could say, and the stubbornness to not believe them. My heart beats with anticipation for absolutely nothing to happen at all.
Yet another lie, huh. I expected this, to grasp my and pull me out of my situation to make something more of what must only have been a dream. I was in a bad dream, and I'm back home, and I'm safe. Why would I need to think of anything else?
What? I can't help it. I can't help it. I check my phone's clock, and I didn't expect this. I dart my eyes to the window, then back to the screen. This can't be true. Cold sweat starts dripping from the pores in my body, and the inky blackness of outside my window, like a swirly galaxy of absolutely nothing at all. And… I check my phone one last time, in absolute disbelief of what I see. This shouldn't be possible. I-it can't-t be.
The stark contrast between the time and the visible outdoors is staggering. Truth be told, there isn't an "outdoors" that I can see. Just a black that inky, too dark and viscous to be anything that I've ever known. The air is sticky and viscous just like whatever is out the windows, and it's almost impossible to breath. T-this. This is- No, they were right. The conflict in my mind is like the Civil War, two sides clashing against each other as they fight for their rights, their freedom for me to believe them. T-they… I-it can't be true. It c-cant! My eyes deceive me as I search my room without moving, turning my eyes as I try to make out what little details I can, what little details to make this false. I need to prove that this is false.
No! This isn't true. No no no no no no-
I am at home. I am safe. The breath and stench of something that isn't human blows on my neck, the exact same feeling of being watched, being observed, being the target of a predictor. Just like how it was in my dream. The breath is heavy and warm, I can feel the wet air condense on my neck. I fight the urge to turn around, I fight the urge to look and see. I can feel my brain tugging me to turn around and look, or my hand to wipe off the water forming on my neck, yet I shouldn't do either of those things. I can't. But at the same time… Why would any of this be real?
W-what? Why should I do that? That contradicts everything they've said! Either way, I prepare. It's like I don't even think about my own thoughts, and utterly ignore them. I tense up for the moment, awaiting the "signal". I try not to shift about, and my heart beats quickly in tension.
I turn around to see a face staring back at me.