Sleep Paralysis
Soul was dreaming. He knew he was dreaming, since there could be no possible way he would be outside, touring the Death City arboretum. That, and, he knew it wasn't daytime, as he'd only fallen asleep just after dusk. There was no way he could have been asleep for that long.
What had really gotten him to realize he was dreamed was seeing that creepy-as-fuck eye of Asura. He swore he'd been able to get out of bed and walk into the hallway. Down the long, thin, picture-framed hall, he was sure he saw it. Him. Asura.
It scared the hell out of him, and he rushed into Maka's room. She was sitting on her bed, reading a book. She looked up from behind it, and gave him a worried look.
"Everything ok?" She asked. He barreled into her, throwing his arms around her in a hug. Even though this was a dream, she could wake him up. It'd worked before.
"Wake me up. I just need to wake up." He replied.
"Ne, Soul, you have something… on your face." Maka stated. He turned around to face the mirror, and gasped. His mouth was gone! He couldn't breathe!
His eyes snapped open. He saw the ceiling of his room, and he could see that the blanket he slept with was partially covering his face. He could feel the heat his breath gave with each exhale, and the draft of cool air along his neck at each inhale.
Good, good, he could focus now.
"Wake up, gotta wake up." He told himself desperately. His eyes closed, and he drifted in and out of consciousness. He had to find a tether to what was real. He felt the cold air again. He believed that if he could get the blanket off of him in waking life, he'd wake for real. Things worked that way, right?
He struggled with the blanket. He could feel the rush of cool air as it flowed in through the spaces he made, but it still would not move away from his face. It seemed to be getting heavier with each passing moment. As he slipped into darkness again, his heart pounded in his chest. If he didn't get that blanket off of his face, he knew he would suffocate.
He fought again, finding that he didn't have the energy he needed. He let his arms and legs drop, and tried to control his breathing. The blanket felt so heavy. His face felt so hot. The damn thing would suffocate him.
Acting on a moment of fear, he took a deep breath and let out a scream. His oxygen supply was limited, but this was his last resort. He could hear his own voice resound in his ears, and he hoped to Death that he was actually making a sound in waking life.
"AHHHHH!" He screamed over and over again, hoping that Maka would hear him. Her room was just across the hall. He choked; his throat felt dry, and he swallowed spit to wet it. He felt himself fading again, fearing the worst.
He took another deep breath, and screamed, tears coming to his eyes.
Damn it, Maka, help me!
Was she even home yet? He didn't know. She was doing a late-night study session with Tsubaki. Death, she's not even home! He slipped, and forced his eyes open again. He screamed again. He couldn't give up.
A final scream erupted from his throat, and it was weak. There was no power from it. He knew it would not carry, but in his panic, he kept screaming for his life.
Futile. The attempts were futile.
Exhausted, and mind blown, his body wouldn't respond to him anymore as he completely surrendered to the darkness. Surely, to his own death.
His eyes snapped open, and he jerked, gasping in for air. Was he awake? He didn't know. He moved his hand, and the blanket had finally moved. As his eyes adjusted, he noticed his sight was clear, though it was dark. He knew that finally, he was awake for real. His eyes threatened to close, but he forced them to stay open, regardless of how much his eyes stung. He was tired, he knew, but he didn't want to sleep. Not after that.
He forced himself to sit up, and threw the cursed blanket off of him. He shuffled back to lean against the wall. It was cold. The room itself felt like an ice-box. Normally he'd welcome it after being under such a stuffy blanket, but with the terrifying dream he'd just had... He shivered, and touched his toes. They were freezing. To comfort himself, he hugged his knees to himself. He was trembling.
He stood out of bed, wobbly, and looked around. He flicked on the light. Everything rested where he'd left it when he'd went to sleep. Empty cereal bowl on the bedside table, homework and water canteen on his table. Even the pile of clothes in the corner waited for him.
He shook his head, grabbed his towel, and headed for the bathroom, pausing to look at Maka's door. It was still open. She wasn't home, or if she was, she wasn't sleeping or in her room. He sighed. There was no way he could ask if he'd been actually screaming in his sleep, or if he was only dreaming or imagining it.
He stepped into the bathroom, closed the door, and cranked on the hot water, stripping his blue boxers and black tank top. Still shivering from adrenaline, he stepped into the streaming hot water, leaned against the wall, and slowly slid down to sit on the floor.
He just didn't feel like standing. He couldn't tell if it was due to lack of desire, or lack of energy.
His body craved for sleep, but his psyche pleaded "no". Death, no. Not after that.
His tired eyes trailed up the wall, spotting his shampoo, conditioner, and soap. He only stared at it. It felt so far away. He sighed again, and rested one arm on his knee, and leaning against the other. The hot water faded from piping hot to ice-cold, and it seemed to help, though he wished it would stay at a constant temperature.
He sat there for what seemed like half an hour, lost in a sleepy daze.
After deciding he shouldn't waste any more water, he shut off faucet and stepped out, dried himself off, and put his clothes back on. Drying off his silver hair, he stepped out, just as Maka was exiting her room.
"Hi, Soul. Did you just wake up?" She asked cheerfully. He looked at her with tired eyes, and could swear they were dark and puffy.
"Um, yeah. I just… I passed out." He replied. She giggled, understanding. With how hard they'd been working, he was more than entitled to a nap.
"Ne, Soul, you look… are you ok? You look rough." She asked, becoming concerned. He looked a little paler than he usually did. He thought about telling her, mouth open and ready to speak the words. He shut his mouth, and forced a nod.
"Yeah, it was just a… hard nap. I'm fine." He assured, forcing a smile. He only hoped his tired eyes followed, otherwise she wouldn't buy it. He muttered "excuse me" as he passed her, heading straight to his room.
He shut the door slowly behind him, hearing it click. Strangely, the door felt heavier than normal. He shook the thought from his mind. The room was cold. He shuddered, desiring warmth. Not wanting to use the blanket, (he didn't even want to see the infernal thing) he grabbed a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt, and slid on a pair of socks.
He pulled out the chair and slumped down into it. His psyche still protested sleep, and he couldn't blame himself. Grabbing his math book, he began to get a head start on the next homework assignment.
He didn't want to go to sleep anytime soon.
Sleep Paralysis is a real thing, and I've often wondered if I am the only one to experience this... It's terrifying, to think that you're the only one.
It's dark, but I hope you enjoyed it all the same. Horror doesn't always come in the form of serial-slash-killers.