We Are The Dreams That Never Die – Part Nine

Glenn swings the bat like a little league pro, huffing and puffing with exhilaration.
“WHAT the FUCK’S going on Soph! You okay?” He yells as he tightens his grip on the bats handle as if he is waiting for the pitcher to toss a ball his way.

“It okay you big idiot, I just had a bad dream is all,” she says as she wipes the sweat from her brow and swaddles her lower half, desperately trying to hide the fact she’d wet her bed.

“Bullshit, I heard a male voice scream out. He was talking batshit stuff and you we’re feeding it back to him, so don’t treat me like some chump. What the fuck is going on, and why the fuck does your room smell like the hobo toilets down in Princess Park?”

“I-I-I, I told you before Glenn, I found him and I guess I’ve been on edge since. But that’s all that’s going on I swear, and there was no one else in here, so whatever or whoever you though you heard was just probably me talking in my sleep.”

“Fucking on edge is a down playing it Soph, you’ve been stressed our like the weight of the world is about to break you, and I’ve seen it break people before. Get yourself together before you go looking any further for this guy, I’d rather see you stay in one piece than end up another victim of this stupid curse.”

“That’s the problem Glenn,” Sophie says as she launches herself from the bed and storms past him. “It’s not a stupid curse, it’s real and I’m going to put an end to it!” She says as she slams the door to the bathroom and locks it behind her. For a few moments she stands in the darkness glaring at her own twisted reflection, until a chill runs down her spine as her reflection shuffles forward and smiles a wide torn smile at her.

“Tick-tock went the clock that the beast lay at my bed, it’s words of twisted desires ran rampant through my head, tick-tock, tick-tock, the clock went tick-tock!” Her own disembodied voice hisses from the mirror image, suddenly the twisted version grabs Sophie by the throat from within the mirror and begins to strangle the life from her. Desperately Sophie tires to free herself but the mirror version’s grip is too tight, finally in a frantic gesture she manages to flick the bathroom light on and finds herself alone in the small room, her own hands around her throat. With a panicked stare one last time at her own reflection she darts to the doorway and pulls it open only for Glen to drive the baseball bat into her head, knocking her to the ground in an unconscious heap.

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