A/N: Welcome back to the nightmare!
Chapter Two
Early morning arrives and I can no longer keep my eyes open, despite the sunrise peeking through.
But then …
Hands sheathed in black gloves grasp my ankles and wrists. I fight with all of my might, thrashing and struggling to get free. I scream as loud as I can, surprised when no matter the pitch or intensity, they let me keep screaming. I scream more and more as they carry me to an unknown destination, until finally I'm spent. The air is cold and stale, and smells a bit like sulfur. Suddenly, the people holding me stop walking. I hear them talking, but their voices are muffled, making it practically impossible for me to make out specific words.
I hear a heavy door creak open, and then I'm suddenly flying. I scream, afraid they've thrown me down a hole, only to stop abruptly when I land a few seconds later. The ground is damp and doesn't provide much cushion to the right side of my body as it hits. I barely have time to sit up on my knees before I'm grabbed again, this time by the arms, and slammed against a cold, steel slab. They hold my legs down as they strap my ankles tight to the corners, and then shackle my arms above my head.
"Please, stop! Why are you doing this? What did I do?" I cry out, tears streaming down my dirt-riddled face into my ears and hair.
No one answers me. I cry harder and scream out for help.
Ten minutes pass before I hear a voice that does nothing to help me understand.
"No one can help you here."
The voice is deep and sure, its coldness sending shivers down my spine and giving me gooseflesh.
"Why? Why am I here?" I ask.
"You are here because you are," he says.
"What? What does that even mean? What did I do?"
The deep voice says nothing and nothing happens for an undeterminable amount of time. I cry and cry until I just can't anymore. At some point, I feel a drop of water on my head. This must be another trick, but then I feel it again. I turn my head so I can look up at the ceiling—or where the ceiling should be—and the next drop lands right in the middle of my forehead.
Finally, I can have some water.
I try to move, to capture it in my dry mouth, but with my ankles strapped down, I can't. I become frustrated, wiggling as much as the restraints will let me, feeling the biting pain as they seem to get tighter and tighter the more I squirm.
After what feels like hours, I decide to try and calm down and ignore it. Maybe if I try to find the rhythmic drip soothing it won't be so bad? I stop moving and concentrate on my breathing.
Drip.
Deep breath. Release.
Drip.
Inhale. Exhale.
Drip.
Inhale… hold…
Drip.
Exhale.
I count each breath, choosing only to concentrate on the fact that I still can breathe.
Around breath 278, I start to falter. The room feels colder and has gotten impossibly darker. I feel eyes on me, but I can't find them. Panic sets in again and my eyes water. There's whispering but just like before, I can't make out the words being passed from person to person. A whimper escapes my lips without conscious permission. The whispers get louder and I can no longer tell how many voices there are. I try to cover my ear, but the searing pain in my shoulders and wrists make me scream out in agony; they've been bound and immobile for too long.
The whispers are so close to me. Make it stop! Please!
I thrash like before. I need it to stop! Somebody make it stop!
I wake screaming, with my hands over my ears, shaking my head.
How many more nightmares will I have to endure?