"What did you do?"
"What ever do you mean?"
"He's changed. Different."
"Different how?"
"He has these moments... It's like three different people are fighting for control."
She looks sharply at him.
"What?"
"There are times where he's cold and logical. Then the next second he's a bomb waiting to blow. It's random, no way to tell when they happen."
"Oh no."
"What?"
She looks at him with fear.
"It appears I made a mistake."
About three days later, Johnathan was deemed healthy enough to be checked out. After filling out the required paper work, he was given his old clothes and was rolled out of the hospital in a wheelchair. The hospital has called a cab for him and within ten minutes, he was home. It looked an awful lot like the house in the world his brain created but it wasn't next to a lake. Upon entering the house, the thick layers of dust filth caused him to cringe in disgust. This needed to be cleaned and soon. However, he takes his time in looking around. The front door leads into the living room, small love seat sits against the wall with of a coffee table in front of it. Two tall floor lamps sat on either side of the love seat and paintings and pictures are splattered here and there across the walls. A small fireplace is on the opposite wall of the love seat with a nice flat screen TV on it. Off to the left is a hallway that leads to the other rooms of the house. Johnathan travels the hallway, the first door leads to a supply closet. On his right about five feet down the hallway, is a large archway that leads to the dining room/kitchen. The dining room holds a small table with two chair and a radio. An island acts as the divider of the two rooms. The kitchen is small, with two counters, various cupboards and cabinets, a fridge and freezer combo, a sink, a dishwasher, stove/oven, a can opener, a toaster and a microwave.
Backing away, Johnathan goes further down the hallway, the next door on his left leads to a bathroom with a tub/shower, a sink and a toilet. The door across from that leads to a guest bedroom, he could tell from the bland colors and emptiness it has. The door beside that one leads to what Johnathan assumes is his room. It holds a small single person bed with blue blankets on it, a small desk with various papers scattered about and a desk lamp and next to the desk is a bookcase filled with books, movies and games. The walls are a dark blue, the carpet is a cream color and the walls are covered in posters. Johnathan steps into the room to have a closer look. Next to the bed is a nightstand with a lamp on it. Johnathan opens the drawers and finds that its filled with journals. He sits on the bed, coughing as years of dust is fluffed up, and pulls all the journals out. There are a lot, about thirty, and upon opening them he finds that they are like diaries. Each one holds a years worth of events. Johnathan carefully lays down on the bed and begins to read them. They just may help him recall his memories.
About two hours later, Johnathan stretches his back and goes into the kitchen to see if there is anything edible. Luckily, there is a bag of trail mix in the cupboard, he didn't dare open the fridge yet. Johnathan tears the bag open and starts munching it down.
"Johnathan..."
He jerks his head up just in time to see a wisp of brown hair disappear into the trees. Impossible! It was all just an illusion! Perhaps the seizures did more damages than he thought?
"Johnathan..."
It sounded as if it was right next to him. He tries to resist, clenching his teeth and curling his hands into fists. It wasn't real! It couldn't be real!
"Do you believe in monsters?"
Johnathan's eyes go as wide as plates. No, it couldn't be. It's just not possible. Johnathan gulps as he feels a presence appear behind him. He didn't dare move a muscle, he didn't want to provoke it. A small breeze of air flows across his neck, very much like a puff of breath but as icy as the arctic. He couldn't help it, he shivered. He could almost feel the grin of glee spread across its face. He did exactly as it wanted him to, he moved.
"They are here."
And with that, millions of clawed hands grasp him and drag him into darkness. He grabs the sink in a desperate attempt to halt his kidnapping and he screams in horror and fear. They did not like that, the claws dig into his skin and climb up his arms. They stab at his hands and pry his finger away from the edge. Johnathan cries out in pain as they claws pierce the tips of his fingers. The blood made his grip slippery, leaving small trails of blood in the sink and to his horror, he finds his grip becoming weaker as the seconds go by.
"Johnathan..."
Blue eyes appear before him, white hands cup his cheeks and pale lips kiss his forehead. Johnathan stares into Void's eyes in horror, fear and with a vulnerable childlike innocence. He silently calls for help as his screams become muted. She stares at him sadly, giving him a soft smile.
"Save me, Johnathan. Only then can I help..." Ghostly chains appear upon her waist and wrists. She gives him a sad smile and then a soft smirk. "They shadow your mind, haunt it. They want you to suffer just as I have." She kisses his forehead again, "Tribuat tibi secundum memorias."
With that, his grip is finally lost and Void becomes more and more transparent the further he's dragged away. She staring at him with a sad frown and reaching out towards him when he finally falls into darkness once more. Blood, war, fire, death. The same as last time, yet Void was no where to be seen to help keep him grounded. Help him, please somebody, help. Johnathan doesn't know how much more he can take of this. Please help. Please!
"SAVE ME!" Johnathan's eyes snap open in terror as he screams. His body is jerked into a sitting position with his hand reached out towards something that is no longer there. His chest heaves for air as Johnathan frantically looks around the room. A thud causes him to jump. Looking down, he see a journal and that's when the event of last night go through his head. He must have fallen asleep reading the journals.
With a sigh, he picks the book back up and stumbles into the kitchen. He opens the cupboard and absentmindedly grabs the trail mix and starts eating. After two swallows his mind finally catches up. Wait. Johnathan looks at the bag with a nervous uncertainty. Why was there the same bag of trail mix in the same place as his dream? Johnathan pales. Just then, he didn't have to open it. It was already open. However, logic decided to kick in. Perhaps it had already been open five years ago? Johnathan laughs nervously. Of course, that has to be it! Johnathan stares at his hands when a scene from his dream flashes across his eyes. He jerks his head up and stares at the sink in a horrified curiosity. There is one way to know if it was a dream or not. Johnathan stands up from the dining table slowly, and slowly stalks up to the sink. The closer he gets, the more terrified he gets. The suspension and curiosity create an odd atmosphere. Closer and closer he gets until finally he stands directly in front of the sink. He nervously stares out the window and fidgets, trying to gain the courage to look down. When he does, he becomes so pale he's almost grey. There right on the edge, leaving trails of crimson down the drain, was ten bloody and messy fingerprints. Johnathan looks at his clean, blood free hands and then at the blood in the sink. The blood wasn't fresh, but it wasn't black and crusty as blood gets when older than two days. With a gulp, he places his hand where he remembers grabbing and the prints are perfectly fit. Realization hit him hard, like a train, in fact, when he comes to the conclusion that the dream was no dream.
Johnathan jerks his head up in shock. Void! She had been there! So she is real? Denial had all but left Johnathan by then. He has proof of all these events being real. What had she said? Ah! That's right. She said Tribuat tibi secundum memorias...
Johnathan grasps his head as he falls to his knees in pain. Memory upon memory fills his mind. Memories of his life here in this world, memories of the world in his coma and finally memories of that dark, hellish place. Each his own yet not at the same time.
"Grant thee thy memories." Johnathan whispers as the last of the memories flash before his eyes.