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Running.
A scream is heard behind you, you only turn for a moment to see one of your friends being picked up and snapped in half. You quickly turn back, heart thudding in your ears. Or is that the footsteps of monsters, beings from your nightmares come to life? Your 3D gear isn't working. Of all times, it stops working now. You know you should have checked it before you set out. Shaking your head, you carry on, legs ready to give up underneath you, your whole body ready to collapse. You want to give up, you want to fall to the floor and wait for your impending doom. But something keeps you going, something keeps your body going without you. You put it down to survival instinct.
Keep running.
All your friends are dead. You saw each one of them, bitten out of the sky, pulled up from the floor, taken from rooftops, young lives violently cut short in front of your eyes. You're not even sure whos' blood covers you any more. It's all the same thick red fluid, covering your skin, your clothes, matted in your hair. It makes you want to scream, to stop where you are and give all your energy over. You don't care if it draws attention to you.
You keep running. Turning left left left right right left.
No. You have to keep going. For their sake. You can't selfishly give up, no. Avenge them. You have to live on for them you have to-
Dead end.
You scramble against the wall in front of you, trying to claw your way up it, trying to get out. The walls begin closing in on you. It's getting tighter, harder to breath. Your heart is beating a million miles per hour.
The exit closes, trapping you in a box of bricks and blood.
Screaming.
You're screaming, lungs caving in on themselves, heart drowning your own screams out.
A hand comes from above, wrapping its blood soaked fingers around your waist, hoisting you up off the ground.
The screaming gets louder, your throat gets tighter with fear as youre faced with your demons. He grins at you, his smile pulled from ear to ear, teeth coated in blood.
Your dull nails claw at the fingers around your waist as you get closer to your demise.
You feel teeth around your throat.
Tighter.
Tighter.
"Fuck!"
You wake up startled, sitting up in your bunk, a cold sweat sheened across your skin, dripping down your face.
With a disgruntled noise, you wipe your face on your sleeve, waiting for your breathing to slow down. The nightmares were never usually that bad, but for the past week you'd been waking up from them most evenings, breath ragged and hands shaking. You often awake afraid someone would catch you, laugh at you and tease you. Other times you awake, roll over into the bunk next to you and seek comfort in Marco, wrapping yourself in his arms, taking in his scent. He would kiss your forehead sleeply and tighten his grip, not needing to say a word to you to calm you down, he was enough for you.
Marco...
"Hey, Marco!" You hiss under your breath as you flip over to face him.
His bunk is empty. As it had been for the past week. That's what started the nightmares again.
Your chest tightens as you shuffle into the bunk next to you, wrapping yourself in his unwashed sheets. Something prickles your eyes and you feel tears dripping onto Marcos pillow and it sets you off, weeping into his sheets whispered goodbyes and apologises pouring from your mouth, telling him how much you miss him, telling him how much you need him to hold you, begging him to come back and forgive him, to tell you that it's ok.
More silent sobs fall upon silence in the dead of night. He's not coming back.