The nightmare
English version
He screamed. He screamed. He screamed.
His face contorted in pain, but the sound was gone.
He clung to his chest, heaved for breath and clutched the blanket.
He curled his fingers, hit his throbbing temples and squeezed his eyes shut.
He screamed again, hoarse and almost soundless.
He took a fighting deep breath and fell back onto the bed.
He squirmed to the side, twisted his upper body so that it touched the mattress.
He pulled the pillow down and hid his face inside it, wiped it around in the fabric while kicking off the duvet.
His back was sweaty, so was his forehead too.
His cheeks were wet of tears.
He screamed again, twisted all of his body onto the stomach and pulled his legs all the way up to the torso.
He gasped, wailed and heaved for air.
Finally, he sat up, his one shoulder bared and his eyes big, afraid.
They saw something that wasn't there, something he shouldn't see.
He pushed the bed curtain away, put his feet onto the cold floor and tip-toed to the window, crawled upon the windowsill and stared out into the darkness.
He bit his knuckles and turned around.
He opened the window and pushed it open with his body weight.
The Boy Who Lived killed himself.
The End.