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I feel his hand on my shoulder. It is cold, bony, and dry. As it scraped against my skin the pain didn’t cause much discomfort at first. He whispered something in my ear and I had no clue what he said because I was concentrating on the fact the some random guy is trying to intimidate me. Seriously, I’m tougher than that; I can defend myself against anything! So, I straightened my back and lifted my shoulders with confidence. Which makes him heated, he griped my shoulder tighter.

Now there was pain, pain like grabbing a wire hanger that is left beside a fire, yet I ignore it. Was I there? Was he there? To tell the truth, I don’t know anymore. I think he noticed I was there, I think that I know I was there, but for some reason, I feel if I don’t acknowledge it. If I ignore what is happening, we will both remain floating. The two of us will stay lost in this never-ending scene, and I will never die. However, all of a sudden a sharp throbbing pain occurs drenched in my back. I felt it clear as day; so, it had to real, right?

The pain amplified, I can feel it twist inside me. I die every time…Why, why is that every time I try to rest this happens? I shut my eyes and my world goes black. It doesn’t matter if I sleep for five minutes or 10 hours.

Trying to find some type of comfort I call my mother the next day and all she can say is, “It’s like sucking your thumb; you’ll grow out of it.” She has told me that for 13 years. Now I’m ten days away from turning 18 and she still says the same thing. But dreams are nothing like sucking your thumb, it haunts you, taunts you, waiting for that perfect moment to make you crack.
It’s 2 a.m. now. My mouth is dry, my head is playing a symphony, and I cannot see because of the tears that blur my eyes. Four days is not long to go without sleep. I’ve gone longer. People don’t understand why I can’t sleep. It’ because they don’t feel their dreams, they can tell the difference between reality and a dream. Throughout every dream I am conscious of everything, everyone, every feeling. I really need some sleep. This is not plain old insomnia, there has to be something wrong with me. I need to try, I need to somehow fall asleep for at least an hour without dyeing, and I just have to. As I convinced myself I can do it, my eye slowly start to close.
A man is standing in front of me, a doctor. He was called when I stopped responding to the pleas of my pencil-neck roommate. Apparently, she is discomforted by my 96-hour days; I don’t know why it’s not like I’m her problem.

“Having trouble falling asleep, Jane?” the doctor asks.


As the doctor rambles on I think to myself…Falling asleep is easy; WAY too easy. Giving in is something that tempts me every minute. But I can’t do that, because I know that one day, I’m not going to be able to wake up. All of a sudden the Doctor hands me a pill, and tells me to take it. I held my breath, knowing that if I take a step forward in to falling asleep I may never come back; but if I hesitate or don't step, I may forever regret it. Pressure, so much pressure… Either way could lead to mass destruction, World War III, or worse.

Yet, as time progresses do we slowly realize that we may all ready be preparing for the next World War; it could be hiding right under our noses and we may not even know it 'till everyone is recruited. I can’t be the only one going through this, there has to be more people like me, I know it… I’m not a freak, am I? My decision could be vital to survival; if I choose one path, in my mind I could create a World War. My part is huge. I am only eighteen years old and I all ready have to make a life-or-death decision. I don't know if this is even possible for me.

Gasping for air and praying to every god known to man that I do not kill everyone in the world and that everyone in the world doesn’t kill me, over and over again; I step in the vast everlasting darkness. Now, this is permanent. Now if I look back I could die. Now, I am forever alone. I hope I made the right choice. I swallowed the pill dry. Before I knew it, I was back in the nightmare again.

Breathing heavily the sound of the heart monitor beeping steadily brings me to a shiver. An IV tube ran down the inside of my arm. I thought I was out for just a few seconds, but obviously not. Now I don't know how long I was out, but I’m glad I am. I don’t know what I was thinking. I just kept dyeing and dyeing over and over again without warning.

“Good morning Jane. I hope you had a good night's sleep… I hope you are excited because today is your big day,” an unfamiliar voice sounded at the end of my bed.

I blinked open my tired eye. I scanned the room with blurry vision. I could remember the night that I blacked out; mainly because my mind kept on playing it over like a movie scene that won't get out of my head. What happened while I was out? Is this the repercussion, could it have been the wrong choice? Was the darkness the worst part of the night, or was the seemingly perfect world the worst? I apparently have people here who care for me, what is this, where am I? I think I'm still here. I'm still breathing, my heart is still pumping… at least I think so.

“Happy 21st Birthday Jane, we hope that you are feeling better!” A small crowd shouted from around my bed. The voices, they seemed familiar. Who the heck are they? Wait, since when was I 21?

“No, no that's impossible. I'm 18, I just turned eighteen.” I was trying to say.
My mouth moved, my tongue moved with the words, but no sound came out. My vision was still so terrible that I couldn't make out shapes, and now I can't talk? Just then, I felt a gentle gust, a strong breeze actually. It was coming from an unseen window. I felt a chill down my spine and the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. This is not normal. I thought, pondering why I felt this way. My mind began to have an excruciating pain. I began to blink slower, going in and out.

“Jane, we need you. Come back Jane!” an eerie voice whispered in my ear. I couldn't tell who it was. Maybe this was some psychopathic freak. Maybe. . . .
The scene changed quickly.
I was running through a never-ending tunnel. I felt like I was flying, yet the adrenaline and fear that pumped through my veins told me to stay on the ground. The only sound that echoed throughout the tunnels were my tennis shoes slapping against the cold pavement, my heavy breathing, and my heavy pounding heartbeat. After what seemed like hours of constant running I realized that the tunnel may never end. Finally, after a long pause of communication, I heard whispers. They were surrounding me, inaudibly attempting to get my attention. I wouldn't give them any of my concentration; especially since I still don't know what I am running from. Slowly they dropped off until one voice rose above everything. It sounded like the same voice that was in my previous nightmare. The same one that sent chills down my spine, the one that backstabbed me… LITTERALLY! Whoever they were, they were following my sub-conscience.

“Jane, come back. We need you. We love you. Come towards us Jane. We're here to help you. Come back to reality.” The eerie voice was hissing in my ear. Creepy tunnel, all alone, whispers. I must be going insane, I made the wrong choice, and I knew it! Without warning, the scene changed once more…
I was sitting in complete darkness, forced to listen to multiple voices that rang out in the silence. I wanted to run, to hide, to scream. I wanted to move, to call for help, to beg for forgiveness and ask them to let my free. Instead I continued to say seating. My brain registered no complaints that were sent, just let me sit there, paralyzed. Complete paralysis scared me, dragged me into unwanted fears. I couldn't stand up, I couldn't call for help. I was sitting alone, in a dark room where you could hardly see one millimeter anywhere. I was stuck in here, possibly forever, alone in a room with complete obscurity. Forever, a never ending eternity, stuck in a chair in paralysis.

Unless, of course, I could break free. The paralysis that bound me to this chair frightened me, but I wasn't going to let that control me. What if I was just paralyzed by my fears? Slowly my arms started to prickle, then my legs. I felt like a million pins were piercing me, dragging me into insanity. Still, I couldn't move them. Still, I was stuck. Maybe, just maybe if my limbs wake up I could move around?

“Jane. Jane. JANE.” The ghostly voices chanted, dragging me further into insanity.

I jumped awake, my heart pounding and my visions running through my head. Not only that, but I had a bizarre feeling that I wasn't alone, that someone was watching me. My eyes became blood shot red and I couldn’t tell where I was. All of sudden my head begins to drop, my eye start to close….
Then I go under again.
I am in the car with my roommate now. I’m driving and my roommate seems kind of nervous, but this dream beats dyeing.

“Rachel ...,” I say.

“Ryan,” she corrects quickly. She is going through some type of phase, I just ignore her and I continue talking anyway.

“I’m not tired ...” Rachel, or Ryan, or whoever she is makes chuckles, as if she doesn’t believe me.
“What are you talking about? I never said you were tired”.

“You were thinking it and I know how to drive so you can relax.”

Just then, a car honks at me loudly, as if he too wants to prove me incompetent. Apparently, this is too much for my night-light roommate.

“Pull over. Now,” she says.

“Fine,” I say roughly, and pull over, right into the face of an oncoming truck.


Please, someone wake me up. Please. Please. Anyone, please! I say while I am balancing on the top of a pillar that is just large enough for one foot. Below me, there are hundreds of creatures with whips, chains, and spikes - they’re ready for me to fall. This death will be worth remembering.

Usually I am trying to do everything in my power to get away, but I can’t help but start crying this time. This dream has gone on too long. I’ve died five times. Usually, it only happens once or twice. For a moment, I wonder if I have died ... for real ... in the real world. The thought scares me. I always thought it would end at death. Then, around me, I hear familiar voices. They belong to my mother and the doctor.

“Would you like me to let her go?” The doctor asks sympathetically. “There is very little hope that she will come out of it.”

There is a pause and I hear my mom crying, and I allow myself to hope. I am in a coma ... I know it ... it must have happened because of the crash ... and if she chooses to pull the plug on me, I can escape this time. I’ve never been able to escape before. Against my first instincts, I find myself wanting to die more than anything. If it happens now, in this way, I will never have to die again, I will finally be free. Please, I beg, and then I silence my thoughts so I can hear her speak.

“No, not just yet…” I hear the shuffling of tissue. “I want her to rest ... she could use it.” Then, her voice is gone, and all I can hear is the sound of the mob below me. I lose my balance and fall.

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-Unpromised- said...
Apr. 2, 2013 at 8:53 pm
I just want to apologize for all of the spelling and grammer errors I was just typing to get the story out of my head.... 
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