There’s blood everywhere. How could so much blood be coming from such small cuts? One hand covers one wrist, trying to stop the life that gushes out of me in a barely noticeable rhythm, but this just leaves the other one unattended. My efforts are useless. I’m weakening by the second, each moment limping by as slowly as I seem to be moving now. But it doesn’t matter how fast I’m moving. I’m still moving. Am I moving?
And I realize then…I did this to myself.
His laugh is a private echo in my ears as my eyes fly open, wet. Instinct carries my left arm up to wipe the tears away, but horror at the thought that it might come back smeared with blood pins it back to my side. I can’t be sure if it’s the sensation of tears sliding down the side of my face and into my hair, or the time it takes to happen, but after a few seconds I’m awake and aware that it was just a nightmare.
The lack of real, physical danger does nothing to quell the feeling of fear left behind. This will drive me mad—if it hasn’t already. I assumed that those I’d been before had just been weak willed in their dealings with Noel, but am beginning to think that the fear of what would happen if they didn’t give in to his request had eventually made them all bat shit crazy enough to do whatever he asked. I wonder if it will ever end, and I can’t stop crying.