Bad Dreams


He was in hell.

That was all he could think of it.

Fear of death... 17 had spent a good amount of his life dancing around that. It wasn't as though he thought himself immune to it, merely, he had decided to avoid thinking about it at all. He had embraced recklessness with a passion, it had been his credo to not take anything seriously. And that had worked out for him, in his early years at least. But things had gotten awfully serious now, just the same.

And this, this took the cake.

The cloying, suffocating atmosphere, the ungodly noise... all the torments he had barely remembered from his earlier fever dream had come rushing back in full. He knew now, it had not been a dream.

There was something really, really wrong with his body.

He felt like a boxer in the ring, his head already caved in, punch drunk to point of near unconsciousness. His senses all cloyed and hampered to near non existence. It was as if blood was pouring into his eyes, blinding him, making him see nothing but red. His ears were ringing at a deafening pitch, and all he could taste or smell was bile. All of his senses were disrupted in one way or another, and he was ready to go down.

But, he couldn't even do that. In keeping with the boxing metaphor, it was as if his entire corner team had apparently jumped into the ring, and were steering him like a marionette. He wasn't in control of his body; his arms and legs moved on their own, almost. And, not voices, but feelings roared in his skull... thoughts and ideas that were not his own, but somehow guided his movements, and all he could do was struggle with all his might just to keep up. The emotions. Rage, anger, hate... malice. Such thoughts had touched on his mind many times in his life, but this was different. The ideas had taken form, they had substance, and influence. They were sentient forms taken root in his mind, more than simple feelings anymore. He was lost in his own head, fighting it wasn't even an option. He was a man stuck in the current of a raging river; his only goal was not to drown. He was too busy with that to do anything else...

Other than to feel deep misery.

It was horrible... it was less than being alive, the way he was in this moment. He was without his free will, but still aware enough to realize it. It felt so wrong.

All he wanted right now, to the point he couldn't even remember wanting anything else, was for this to stop. To have it back to before, even for a moment. Just one measly moment.

And then, before he knew it, as if the angels had descended from heaven just for him, as if god had heard his screams and torn through the heavens... he got exactly that.

The pounding, the blood soaked blackness, and the horrendous red visions, they all vanished in an instant, with a suddenness that would make you question if they were ever there in the first place...

… He was somewhere else now... and he had no idea how he had got there, only... who had brought him... It was all thanks... it was all because... of one person.

… It was her.

She had walked into the room, into the room, the little room that felt so nostalgic to him, and so removed from what had just been happening... she had walked into the room with so little hesitance and with such a boisterous attitude that it completely commanded his attention, despite himself.

It was the kind of thing that would annoy you to hell and back, and it did, and it didn't... for him.

Her little face coiled up in a big confident grin, and she waltzed in further.

The dull, sparsely lit little room left little distance between them. It took her a mere couple steps and she was upon him.

The two children exchanged glances and, she leaned up on the side of his bed post.

She spoke up at that point, in a condescending tone.

"Are you just going to lay around all day, little baby?"

They exchanged looks again at that, at the reference of an argument between them that was nearly as old as their acquaintanceship. And then he groaned loudly.

"... Don't call me a baby. We're the same age." he groaned, weakly.

"But, I was born first, that makes you the baby!"

He frowned.

"Just go away..."

She rolled her eyes in response, and moved a little closer. But, less antagonistically, as she sensed his sensitivity. She lazily dropped to her knees, by his bedside, and began tentatively poking his arm.

Such a weird thing to do... it hurt, but at the same time, it was an act of... concern...

"That hurts, idiot." he complained.

"How much?" she asked gruffly, or at least, attempted to sound so.

Despite her tough words, there was concern in her eyes, he knew...

"It hurts enough, so stop it!"

And she did stop, but began absently tracing the dark purple splotches instead.

"... Just go away, I want to be left alone."

"... You know, if you just kept your head down, you wouldn't get beat up so much."

The statement was almost said rhetorically. Her face was so impassive, she expected no answer.

"Sis, don't you get it?" he asked, tiredly, "You let them walk on you, you become a sidewalk."

"More like you fight back, and they literally walk on you."

They stared at each other at that, for a long while.

"Go away already." he sighed, turning away.

She ignored him, and continued tracing his bruises...

"... I got them back, you know?"

There was no response to this, but he turned to glare at her again. She didn't return it, instead, she stared intently at his arm, avoiding his gaze.

"... Who told you to do that!" he suddenly yelled, suddenly smacking her hand away in a rage.

Her face roiled up in shock at his sudden explosion, but soon, she caught herself, and returned his fire.
"Being a girl doesn't mean I'm useless!" she screamed, "You make us both look bad, getting beat up all the time! I had to do something!"

They stared daggers at each other, almost ready to fight.

But, before it could escalate further, he suddenly ended it. He growled vehemently and waved her off.

"Go the hell away, I don't want you around me!"

He rolled so his back was to her at that, and said nothing else.

She stared on, for a moment, and did nothing.

And at that, he bristled with rage. Even with all that, she wouldn't leave him alone? He couldn't stand it. He didn't want her around right now... he didn't want anyone around him right now! But especially not her!

After a moment, he shot back, rolling back to face her with every intent to scream at her this time... but instead, his sudden movement found him colliding forehead to forehead with her.

They both collapsed and whined in agony at that, slowly rolling around on the bed. Each grasping their head in pain.

"Are you an idiot?" she growled, massaging her nose.

She said this, but she was carefully examining his bruised face, looking to see if she had caused him another mark. Her arm reached out towards him, as if to help.

"What the hell are you doing!" he exclaimed, smacking her arm away again.

She stared at him, somewhat absently.

"What? You're the one who headbutted me!"

"Why were you there to butt heads with? !" he growled out vehemently, at her, who was lying beside him in his bed.

She shrugged.

"Get the hell out of here!" he yelled.

She turned away from him at that with a growl, and, for second, it seemed she finally would go... but instead, she suddenly laid back, bringing her arms around to the back of her head … while still in his bed.

"... You're really not going to go away, are you?" he growled, threateningly "I'm going to have to throw you out."

"... If you can manage it," she said slowly staring at the ceiling, "I say go ahead."

He growled, slamming his head backwards, into his cushion.

"You're a big talker aren't you, sis? When I'm laid up like this."

He sneered and growled, making every effort to show off his disdain, without actually doing anything.

… Pretty soon, he tired of it and began staring at the ceiling too.

"... Why do you keep trying to avoid me?" she suddenly asked.

He glanced at her as she said it. What a bold thing to ask, he was literally left speechless. He couldn't think of anything to say at all.

"I want to help you. Why's that so wrong? What's changed?"

He stared on. It wasn't that simple...

"We're the only ones who have each other backs. We shouldn't fight each other..." she turned to him with a defiant glare, "We should fight everyone else!"

He regarded this statement carefully. He looked towards her, then back to the ceiling.

… She was ignoring the obvious... they were getting older, they couldn't keep relying on each other like this, it was unnatural for siblings to be this close...

She was being... annoying.

"Just put on a dress and act like a girl already."

She punched him right in the face at that, and without missing a beat, he slogged her one back.

Before they they knew it, they were both rolling around and beating into each other. Tirelessly, and desperately, they continued this struggle until both of them were completely out of breath.

He drew himself up to a sitting position, even as he gasped at the air.

"... You are such a stupid girl..." he gasped.

"... And you're such an idiot baby!" she exclaimed back.

He laughed at that, and she growled back at him. But the fact that in his beat up condition, she hadn't completely wiped him in that scuffle, told him she was placating him quite a bit. No matter how angry she pretended to be...

"Hey sis,"

"What, you ass?"

He smiled, as she sat up to face him. Still milking a hateful expression.

"They are going to lay into me even worse for having my sister fight my battles for me," he sighed.

She was quiet. Her face marred with disappointment.

"... So, I suppose we should go ahead and lay into them some more ourselves first then, eh?"

He smiled at her, as relief alighted her face, and she suddenly laughed.

"Just stick around me baby bro, I'll keep you safe."

"Never mind that," he growled, "I'll put you to work and have you kick the asses of the chumps too weak for me to bother with."

"I'm just going to kick your ass." she answered scooting up to him and playfully grabbing his neck.

"That'll be the day that you die."

"Yeah right, you'd never be able to kill me!" she laughed jumping to her knees, hands still around his neck, "If I ever died, you would cry like a baby! And you'd be so sad, you'd probably kill yourself!"

He stared up at her.

… She was right.

The tears began to spill from his eyes.

"17!" she coughed, blood leaking from the sides of her mouth.

17 seized up, as if rejecting the sight, he even jumped in his skin... as he traced his arm... to the hole in her chest... that it was still embedded into...

"No..."

It was all he could manage, as his skin began to crawl and his blood ran cold as ice water in his veins...

What the hell was going on? What the hell was happening!

This, this didn't feel like just a dream anymore...