The stench coming out of the monsters mouth is not nearly as strong as the fear petrifying your body. His breath is so repulsive that could knock you unconscious, but you are so scared to move, that you rather embrace the grossness of it before even blinking. You feel him behind you, breathing the stunge right next to you ear, salivating disgusting fluids, scratching your shoulders with his yellow teeth. When his paws approach your neck, you feel his nails cutting through the flesh of your throat before even touching you, the blood flowing down your chest before even cutting you.
You are terrified to death.
She stands tall inside her bubble, arms along her body, looking at the monster attacking you. Despite her bubble looks like one of those transparent inflatable beach balls, it is apparently unbreakable and she is well protected in there –there is a place the monster wont get her.
She looks and observes, expressionless.
As you open your eyes, you inhale powerfully, as a big blow of life returned to your body. Then, you notice rapidly the planks on the ceiling, the lamp hanging – an immediate recognition that you are in your bedroom, and you just woke up from a nightmare.
Are you really awake?
Sweat glues the white cotton nightgown to your skin. You body lays in bed all tensed, arms along your body and legs slightly open. A slow blink and your eyes make contact with her eyes. She is sitting in a Buddha look-a-like position and looks at you from inside the bubble. There is no really an expression on her face –she is waiting for you to react so she can react.
You took a deep breath and close your eyes, momentaneously relaxing; when you slightly open then again, you react at some movement inside the bubble. You try to grasp the wholeness of the situation because many things are happening at the same time. She is up now, furious; both hands are closed on a fist as she is banking with both of them the walls of the bubble; she banks and she yells. You hear absolutely nothing, but you read her lips:
She is not looking at you, she is looking at him. Him. He is standing there, his body sideways, like unsure if he is supposed to stay or to leave. Unsure if he want to be a part if all this.
She waves her eyes from him to you, and back at him, and back at you again -just to get his attention to you- and then she fixes her glance on you, mouth wide open, eyes wide open, tears rolling down her face.
You feel terror, but you are too tired to fight anymore and you just want to let it go. The entire bed becomes a pool of blood and you feel drawing slowly, you smell the presence of the monster down there, under the bed, waiting to tear your flesh apart and rip your body into pieces. She looks screaming and crying, banking, kicking furiously against the bubble. He is not moving, still, not sure what his next move is supposed to be.
When the blood caresses your ears and reaches you nose, you open your nostrils and your mouth, drinking the red fluid, embracing its warmth. The last thing your eyes see is she, down on her knees, palms against the bubble, crying her lips mocking a constant
You would like to tell her that is ok, that the warm blood feels nice -because you are so tired and exhausted that all possible strength has disappear from your body and you have absolute no more willing to fight.
You would like to tell her that it will be ok, but you seem to forget that you are drowning.
You are drowning.