Plot 13.4
She couldn’t escape it, even when she knew she was dreaming.
Plague kept her claws stuck fast, dragging her down until it wasn’t worth it to try and climb up anymore. She wanted it to be over, for the torture to be over and so she could finally be allowed to die.
The moment the thought crossed her mind, when the words finally made themselves heard she didn’t have the strength left to do anything but try to answer the questions she didn’t remember ever being asked. Blood mixed with black sludge left her gagging every few words, her stomach heaving even when there wasn’t anything else left to get rid of.
Plague’s image fizzled out after a while, replaced by Michael. If anything this only caused more pain, more pressure on an already collapsing ribcage while he continued whispering words she could barely catch.
She wanted to scream, to cry, to run away and just feel safe.
But even her dreams were torture, each always worse than the last she’d tried to escape until she was just forced to endure consciousness.
So she woke up, begging him to leave her alone, so that maybe just for once the lies would stop. Of course, what was the chance of that happening. Even if he did disappear, she’d be trapped exactly where he left her, to wait through anything that took place, real or in her head.
