The forest seemed to go on forever, like a sea of earthy tones that loomed ominously overhead. I always came back here, in my sleep, returning to the same spot every time. My perch. I could see the shimmer of blue that cascaded out of the mountains like a weeping graze, tempting me to touch it. To drink from it. The sensation sent an unwelcome chill down my spine.

Yet, even so, whenever I so much as took a step forward, the scenery would fade out into white nothingness, like a blank page. The light wasn't comforting, it was intrusive - blinding to the point where I found myself curling into my body to escape it. There wasn't enough darkness to balance it out. It was raw and it burned.

Sometimes it made me wonder what that made me, when I cowered away from something that almost seemed divine. I was the sole impurity, and as a result the white flame continued to burn through me angrily, attempting to purify me into accordance with my surroundings - although, as ashes I would still be a lighter shade of grey...

Even when I opened my eyes, it was never completely gone; occasionally, it caught me off guard, flaring up when I least expected it.

Tonight, I came back again. Came back to the place that had haunted my dreams ever since I had been a normal fourteen year old; your average, lanky, teenage girl with ash brown hair and a sore temper - that had been a family trait. This time, however, it was different. I never saw the fairy-tale landscape, or the pink hues from the setting sun. No. I was standing in the midst of the scolding, white light, staring into the eyes of my mother.

There is no sob-story, no love-hate relationship in the nondescript blur of our past; it was just her and me. Dad was still around enough, when I was, but those two never managed to reach the idyllic, fairy tale ending. To be perfectly honest, their relationship was as anticlimactic as any other - the blushing bride and groom that just sort of grew apart. It was so gradual that I didn't even notice until he walked out. No… it was more that I really didn't care to the point that I never dreamt of them, or let my mind linger for too long - that part of my life wasn't an unhappy memory… it just didn't seem real; in some circumstances, it was as real as this dream.

Staring at my mother though, was like facing my inner demons. Even when we were on good terms, there was always something wrong with the way I looked - a misplaced strand of hair, my stare too piercing, too much like my father. We got on like a cat and dog, keeping a mutual distance… it was no surprise that she practically signed me off without so much as a goodbye when my letter of acceptance came. She didn't give a damn that we weren't religious, or that we hadn't even applied - she just wanted an excuse to get rid of me; and now, I wanted to be rid of her.

My mother didn't speak. I knew she couldn't say anything here that I wouldn't will with my own sub consciousness, because this was my world. I knew every patronising attempt to be condoling, every hypocritical thing that she could say, and that really spoilt the game for me; so I decided to revel in the moment. My eyes lingered on her face, the creases in her skin didn't flaw her face in the same way that they might someone else. They hardened her, made her more distant - a beauty not from perfection, but a natural quality mixed with determination; something I didn't have.

I wanted to rip it to shreds, to steal it. That certainty that never faltered, that allowed her to persevere and so the things she did best was something that I not only desired - I pined for it. I needed it, but I didn't need her. "Leave me."

The ghostly figure hovered unblinkingly, unmoving, as if she were dead. It didn't phase me at all, I just stared right back at her. Through her.

"Now."

Her image evaporated like smoke into the incandescent radiance that engulfed me. Closing my eyes, I let myself drown in it, let it smoulder through me rippling until I found myself gasping with shock, clutching my heart. The thudding in my chest was so heavy, and fast that I thought it might burst; the warmth making me feel feverish, my head numb.

Darkness seeped in, hissing angrily, bubbling in the brilliant light. Splatters of an inky black smothered my surroundings, oozing past me until all the brilliance was gone, and I was lying in a bed familiar, yet almost forgotten. Somewhere I was hoping never to return to. My body was slick with a layer of sweat, my hair plastered to my face as I rolled onto my side, watching the quivering body in the neighbouring bed. The body of my best friend.

Help… me, please…

No! I knew where I was, struggling to make myself wake up, to un-see the hideous, misshapen lump that protruded from the girls body. Every cell inside of me was desperately trying to pull me out of my nightmare, but it wasn't working. Nothing was working. I was trapped to relive the one moment I dreaded for the rest of my absurdly short life.

The body wasn't mine to move, I could only sit and watch through horrified eyes as the sheets tumbled in a pile onto the floor. Grotesquely pale, bony limbs convulsed on the bed opposite me as the lump began to move, crawling inside of her. I could hear it, the reverberations of tissue being torn to pieces, the snapping of bones; wet, sticky sounds that accompanied her blood curdling shrieks.

When it came to gore, violence, blood - I was like a virgin, having lived a vaguely sheltered life until it was stolen. Brutally. No amount of horror could have prepared me for the shockingly macabre display as the creature violently mutilated Helena from the inside out. Nothing could have eased the trauma of watching the one person that I trusted with my life, the one person I loved as that thing marred her skin with blackening blotches; rivalling her once luscious, raven hair.

It ripped right through her, effortlessly; gobbets of meaty, bloody mess clung to the walls, surrounding me in gore. The contents of my stomach emptied on the floor next to me when I smelt the vile smell of the contents of her gut, impacting my nose and hitting the back of my mouth as if it had been shoved down my throat. Unable to run away, I trembled in a sickened trance, eyes blurred with tears of revulsion and complete and utter despair.

It was the hissing that brought me back to reality - the surreal impact of catching sight of the gaunt-looking monster. Too old to be a bouncing, baby boy - it's dilated black pupils filled insanely large sockets, making me wonder if they would be the same colour if you pulled them out. Having seen enough raw meat to last a lifetime, I swallowed down another round of bile at the thought, the taste still lingering in my mouth, combined with the everlasting bite of death.

That monster had been gradually killing her, and I was clever enough to realise that one carcass wasn't going to be enough to sate it's thirst. I was next. The idea might not have bothered me so much if I didn't have to watch it burrow back into her flesh, ripping her apart to get at her blood - one final scream escaped my lips as I watched the limp corpse face me, looking as if she were still alive, still capable of moving the now pallid lips.

It wasn't the omnipresent shadow that made me turn the light on when I couldn't sleep, or the carnal hunger of the beast that erupted from her womb like a more horrofic, reverse Caesarean section; it was the sickening smile that had been on her dying face. Not horror. I never understood how, but in her last moments, Helena had managed to smile, and that smile forever haunted me.

She told me she would try to love it.
I didn't believe her.

She told me she couldn't love it.
I scolded her.

She loved it,

and I hated her for that.

A/N: 'That was just a dream' - sorry for the lack of dialogue, but it's difficult to write it when the dream is partly lucid (I write partially out of experience, and most of my dreams have only ever been lucid - though I haven't watched one of my best friends being torn to shreds, yet. I'd die for my chance to small talk with a fanged fatale.)

So yes, short update. apologies. Normally they are longer, but it's difficult to do that without dragging it on and making it dreary. You can call this a half-sized chappie, because it is... in theory. If I told you I shut my hand in the door and it is a misshapen swelling protruding from just above my wirst, would that make it any better? It's kind of cool actually - blue on the outside, white on the swelling and red in the centre... like a dart board... although the red isn't circular... it's more of a line. Too much info? Sorry about that.

This was really just to clear a few things up, and among other things, I hope it wasn't terrible. The next chapter is longer (already written) but I needed to bridge it in.

Thanks for reading! xxxxx XD as always :3