Nightmares
It was a night darker than he was used to.
He stumbles down the hallway, feeling his way along with his hands. This place, it's unfamiliar. He knows he's been here before, he just doesn't know where here is.
He passes a window, but there is no light shining through it. Not even the moon is out tonight.
He pauses a moment, and backtracks a few feet, so that he is standing before the glass. Glancing out across the darkened city, he sighs.
He remembers where he is now, and wishes he didn't.
Because along with that knowledge came the knowledge of how he had gotten there, and the knowledge why he was there.
Here, so far away from the nightmare he left, they continue on, as though nothing has changed, as though everything will ever change.
He looks out on the city again, one hand shaking ever so slightly, the other completely motionless.
He bites his lip, but knows better than to let go; knows better than to let emotion take a hold of him. It had been a hard lesson, but one he had learned well.
The city is silent, void of motion and light.
It seems somehow fitting that there would be a blackout on a night such this, as though the entire city had been put on hold to mourn for one man.
Even though he knows this is not the case, even though he knows most of them will never even hear the stories of what has happened, he would like to imagine that it was true.
Because as soon as he admits to himself that it isn't, he has lost control.
A sound, someone slamming a door, people running. He hears them; he knows what it is they are yelling. But he cannot bring himself to care.
He has fallen now; into the well of memories he has been fighting to keep buried.
He knows they will always be there, lurking just out of his reach, waiting to pounce.
The sounds fade, the city is silent again.
He grits his teeth, trying, and failing, to fight back the screams that threaten his self-control. He is seeing it, over and over again. He cannot fight it off this time.
Vaguely, he remembers what he had been told, what he had made himself believe.
The nightmares cannot become reality.
This is why, even as the sounds play themselves over, louder and louder still, and as the light blinds him, and he feels a scream break free of his throat, the city is silent.
End
a/n: Well. Not sure where that came from. –blinks– I know, I know, I promised light fluffy fun. I'll do that now, really. I swear. Though, I've probably scared most of you off with that. It doesn't even make sense to me to tell you the truth –sigh–. Oh, and if you're wondering who I'm talking about, I left a hint or two as to who the narrative is directly about, and you can guess who the other person is once you know that if you have anything more than a block of concrete for a head.
