Chapter 4

"Help...help..." Triple H had said for what seemed like hours. He was sitting here, on the floor, and he didn't want to be helped, no matter how much he called for it.

His face was still buried in the towel, and he kept hearing sounds outside of his protective surroundings. He wanted to be alone, and he didn't want to be awake in this nightmare. He wanted to leave this world, but nothing would come from it. Just grief. He wanted to get away and fall asleep, but every time he closed his eyes, Undertaker stood there, waiting for a chance to cast another dream.

"Help...help..."

He didn't know how long it had been, and he wanted to stay in this place. This room, how little it was, was nothing but a gap, and he wanted to stay within the towel. He opened his eyes, the blood was still there, not drying up of what could have been. It was permanent in the man's, and maybe Undertaker's, eyes. He closed them, but Undertaker appeared, and he opened them again, the blood in view again, and repeat. It was an ongoing cycle that felt as if it couldn't end.

His arms were getting sore, but he didn't care. His legs were behind him, but, again, what did it matter? He was trapped in a world be wanted to get out of and a world he wanted to leave. He didn't want to look up from the safe haven he was in. He didn't want the surroundings to turn into blood, too.

How is that possible? Welcome to my mind games.

"Help...help..."

He didn't know why he was calling out. No one could hear him, and no one could have seen him. No one could see him, anyway. Then, from out of nowhere, a voice, shrill, concerned, cold, spoke up:

"God, Hunter! What are you doing on the floor like that?! Why is the water running over the sink?!"

Triple H didn't know what to make of the voice, but he knew who it was. His mind was trying to trick him, just as Undertaker had the day before, and he could remember the feeling. And the feeling was killing him now as this feeling was. He moaned into the towel, ignoring everything.

"Hunter! Hunter!"

"Help..."

Shawn had stopped the water in the sink from its flow. It was pouring down the cabinets and on the floor. He stepped lightly towards his friend, who didn't seem to notice him. He saw Triple H, pitiful looking, without a shirt, somewhat wet, holding a white towel in his hands like a statue and moaning into it words that couldn't be made out.

"Hunter," Shawn said, trying to pull back the towel.

"Help..."

Shawn could hear the words now, and could feel the cold water on his kneecaps. It was close to his friend's bare feet, which was behind the shaking, scared guy.

"Hunter, talk to me. What happened?"

Triple H heard the words of Shawn, but didn't want to talk. He felt safer that way. He had to stay in this haven, or it would be the end of him. The end of him seeing right. Straight, for that matter. Everything would be blood. He was scared to look up or over. He didn't want to do it.

"Hunter, I'm here for you," Shawn said, as Triple H flinched away, actually moving this time. "Tell me what the hell's going on."

"Help..."

"I'll help you."

Shawn didn't know what else to say; his words weren't helping at all, and his best friend was sitting there like a scolded dog. He wanted to help, but what words could bring this man, strong and easy-going, back to reality, or wherever he wanted to be. Triple H felt the walls close down around him, as if something was holding him back from getting out of the safe haven and he gently peeked over the lines of the towel, seeing a hint of white now than what he saw before. Perhaps it was over.

"Hunter," Shawn said, placing a hand on Triple H's shoulder. "Are you alright?"

Triple H could now see his best friend. His blue eyes no longer feeling easy, but staggering as if something was bothering him.

"S-Shawn...get away from the blood..."

Shawn looked around him, seeing nothing more than the water all on the ground and still pouring out from the sink. He was now confused.

"What blood? There's no blood here, just water."

"The water i-is full of b-b-blood..."

Triple H, despite looking at his friend and his confused looks, didn't feel safe anymore. He wanted to hide back in the towel. He saw Shawn's eyes look over at the sink, then he stood up, water splashing around his boots, and he looked into the sink. He looked back at his friend.

"There's no blood, Hunter. I don't see any blood."

"T-There's blood. T-Turn the water on."

"No, Hunter, this place is already full as it is. What were you doing?"

Shawn knew he wasn't going to give up, and Triple H could see that too. He wanted his friend to understand his pain, and, now, it seemed he couldn't understand. He caught himself shaking as he continued to peek over the towel, the trimming still white. The blood was gone.

"Get up, Hunter. Let's try to work this out."

Triple H's breath froze. "No, Shawn, I'm s-staying here. I-It's safer."

"Hunter, please," Shawn's voice became worried. "Whatever's going on you need to tell me."

Triple H peeked over the towel again, this time looking at the floor, covered in water and sloshing around at every movement. He slowly put the towel in his lap and breathed deeply. Shawn extended his hand and Hunter looked at him, but slowly lifted his hand and pulled himself up. Shawn sighed and looked around the room.

"We're gonna need a lot of towels."

Shawn walked towards a cabinet and opened it, but nothing was inside. Triple H slowly walked into the main room and sat down on the bed, his head in his hands, trying to forget all that he saw.


In the shadows, a dark figure stood, smirking as he watched the man he envied suffer. The figure looked around to the other man coming out of the small bathroom, water following him. Hearts grew heavy and pulses eased.

What pulse? You have no life left in you. Nothing but Hell and torture for eternity.

"Let me have this moment." He whispered.

As he cowered back into the thickening glimpses of darkness, the words came close to the figure's mind.

No.

The figure growled and slowly stepped into the eternal Hell. He walked into nothing, but the faint light became a new power to him. He would find his fate. His dead heart had no beat. His head made the beats breathe.

The mind is a terrible thing to fear. Fear death. It's all you have left.