axel.

WIP this story contains horror and violence, read at own risk. MY FIRST HORRORRR

WARNING: this contains HORROR ELEMENTS it was experimental to see what i could write, dont read.

















                                                                     

                             Unit

                                                                     
                             
                                       

                             Abilities

                                       

                             General Appearance

                                                                                         
                             
                                                                     
                             
                                                                     
                             
                                                                     
                             
                                                                                         Unit 1
                                                                     
                             
                                                                     Can regulate his body temperature quickly, dense bones to survive                              explosions.
                                                                      dark hair, grey eyes, brown skin, felid wildkin with a thin tail                              and medium sized animalistic ears on top of head to handle loud                              sounds better and decrease the chance of going deaf after an                              explosion.
                             
                             
                                                                                         Unit 2
                                                                     
                             
                                                                     Quick to take in surroundings and analyze and predict.
                                                                      blonde hair, blue eyes, pale skin , Avis wildkin with large white                              wings.                              
                                                                                         Unit 3
                                                                     
                             
                                                                     Body can generate its own protein, enhanced strength
                                                                     bulky build, reptilian wildkin with patches resembling scales on                              arms , tan skin and Needs further training on handling anger.
                                                                                         Unit 4
                                                                     
                             
                                                                     Longer legs with higher muscle density for speed and agility.
                                                                      human figure, light brown skin, slit pupils.                              
                                                                                         
                             
                                                                     
                             
                                                                     
                             
                                                                     
                             
                             





"We have money but no time. We tried everything, threw more and more money into expensive weapons that were soon stolen entirely or recreated better. We were not prepared for the future. So, instead of better weapons, we will make better soldiers. Stronger, smarter, better than an average human. We made prototypes, you could say. Four units, each with different useful superhuman abilities , were trained until they reached their limit and we figured out what traits are the best. A facility was built to create and train these superhumans. It covered about sixty acres of land and was split into two sections. One had artificial forests and terrains to navigate and train in, with many different areas dedicated to incredibly specific skills. The other half built weapons for the units, and was home to four supercomputers, some of the biggest in the world. Each supercomputer held every piece of a unit's DNA. Everything about them, kept in a machine so when the time comes we can print out more of them for war. Of course, with the incredible size and complexity of these machines, they could overheat and possibly explode easily. Once every hour, it was required that one of the hundreds of employees designated to each machine was to send cooling liquid through a pipe that went through the computers circuits. It was meant to be an easy job for those employees, with good pay and decent hours. But you need money for all this research.



I ran my hand over the fabric, feeling the fibres. I had never really dared to look at what was beneath my bandage. Of course, I had to take it off to sanitize the scar and avoid infections, but I always closed my eye while I did it. It felt grotesque, this torn and mangled dip in my face. I suppose that's why I cover it. I got it from an accident with fireworks. I lost my left eye. I don't remember it, but my parents used to tell me that was a trauma response. I've always believed it, I guess. I don't remember much, if any, of my childhood before around twelve.
I tried to fix my messed up hair by running it through with my fingers. I have always had dark coloured hair, now grown out to be around shoulder length. It was once a wolfcut when I got it done, but now it's just a mess. I sighed, and turned away from the mirror to sit on my navy bed. It was against the wall in the corner of the room, beside some tacky posters I had never really bothered to pull off the wall. Streaks of morning light painted the room through the ajar window. My tail twitched slightly at my side. It was thin with a tuft of thicker fur at the end. It was the same colour as my hair but the tip of it was dyed red . I was a more obvious wildkin, with feline ears on top of my head and a tail. Some wildkin had the animalistic features watered down by human genes over the years and there wasn't much to give it away other than eyes that glinted slightly when you shone a light on them. Us wildkind and homosapiens have both co-existed for thousands of years. Wildkins first came from an isolated island, where some animals evolved to have higher intelligence. They started walking on two legs ,and later evolved to look more like humans with animalistic features after they mixed with homosapians over the years.
My phone let out a buzz, muffled by the pillow lying on top of it. I twisted around and felt for its smooth surface , pulling it out from under the pillow and powering it on. The notification was a reminder I had set a few days before, to buy more groceries before I forgot and had nothing to eat. I surprisingly had enough money to afford groceries. I had left school about a year ago, and now I worked part time in a restaurant and tried to sell paintings or the odd customized jacket for money. I mostly wore old clothes and ate cheap food or leftovers from the restaurant I worked at. I had a car, but got discounts on public transport from the government because of my missing eye. I stood up, making a mental note of my shopping list before leaving.
...



I climbed into the driver's seat of my black Nissan and rumbled away from the apartment complex, down the winding gray road through the town. I always liked driving . It was time alone where all I had to do was concentrate on the road. As I approached a turn, I could make out a thick lump of traffic blocking my path .I thought for a moment, then turned down another road I didn't recognize to try and find a shortcut. The google maps screen on my phone updated and shortened the time to get to the shops by five minutes. As I drove down it , the road thinned and the occasional trees from before were now huddled together, a green smudge along the edge of the road. A few houses were dotted around the place . As I went further and further, the houses became more and more familiar. One house in the distance stood out. It was a white bungalow, with a grey roof hung over the edges . The inside emitted a warm yellow light and spilled out from the windows. I knew this house. My childhood best friend used to live here. I pressed down the brake and pulled in. If this house was here, my old home couldn't be more than a few minutes away. I stumbled out of the car and padded down the road. The path was narrow and I clung to the inner edge , almost walking into a tree branch more than once. I passed my friend's old bungalow. His name was Charlie. I realized I hadn't talked to him in over two years. A pang of guilt gnawed at me and I flicked my ear, as if to shoo it away. I turned around a corner and finally found the old house. My parents had moved out and never sold it, so it stood there, rotting and weathering with nobody to fix it. I paused in front of it. An upstairs window was smashed , and I could see dust spiraling and dancing in the air. I hadnt looked in there for a long time, and now curiosity took over me . I dug into my trouser pocket and pulled out a paper clip. I looked around me cautiously for a moment, then ran up to it and jammed the unfolded paperclip into the keyhole and wriggled it around until I heard a click. The door cried out as I heaved it open, then came loose and swung open, hitting the wall of the house.
Most rooms were emptied out, filled with dust and mold. I had checked every room downstairs , and found nothing. I retreated to the hallway again, the faded floral wallpaper peeling off the walls around me. I took one last glance around me, then decided to climb the stairs and see if upstairs was any better. As I put my weight on each step, my feet sank into the damp, yellowed carpet. I angled my ears as I walked , trying to pick up some kind of noise. The last stair creaked as I left it. The hallway through the top floor stretched out to my left and right, with around four doors. The door to the bathroom and my old room were closed, but the door to my parents room was wide open. I could see the window was smashed in and glass fragments were splayed across the filthy floor. There was no furniture. The lack of my parents' belongings reminded me of their absence. My breathing paused for a second. There was one area I was never allowed in. But there was nobody to stop me now. I turned and looked up to the hatch that I knew led to the attic. I made my way beneath the hatch, something between a burning excitement and a horrible sense of dread boiling in my chest. I took in a sharp breath and leaped up, trying to get a hold of it. I tried again, and this time managing to dig my fingernails into a groove to yank it open. It jerked open like a spring mechanism and pinned itself to the ceiling as a metal ladder fell down. I fell backward, the ladder digging into the carpet just before my feet. My eyes widened and I couldn't help but grin. Something I didn't do much , actually. My unusually sharpened canine teeth always looked awkward and slightly aggressive when I did. I pulled myself off the ground and ascended the ladder. I grabbed some wooden beam from the roof's structure, and pulled myself up. I felt around me for some kind of light, and found a siler switch that surprisingly worked. A single lightbulb flickered in the centre of the room. Boxes of various sizes cluttered the road. They reminded me of a scene from a movie I watched yesterday. There was bodies laying in an abandoned trench, weeds and nature reclaiming their bodies and sticking out from their eye sockets and wrapping around their bodies. I shook the thought away, and tried to let the childish excitement from a minute ago came back to me. But it didnt. And something told me it wouldn't for a while. A box with my name scribbled on it with black sharpie caught my eye. It had my name in larger letters and below it was in a blue marker, clearly running out. It read
"Old photos".
I blinked and knelt down in front of it. I gripped the sides and pulled it out, sending four other boxes toppling and throwing old blueprints into the air. The box was sealed with duct tape, a last layer of protection. I blinked, then dragged the sharp part of my pointer finger down it, cutting it open. As soon as I did , a strong musty smell attacked my nose. I flattened my ears in response. There were less photos than you would expect from such a large box, about five at the most. I pulled a few out. They were nothing much, photos from christmas or birthday parties. I looked at least past twelve in all of them. They didn't seem that old. I flicked through the remainder in the box, finding nothing interesting. The last photo seems to be still face down to the bottom of the box. I carefully peeled the edges from the box, taking care not to tear it. I eventually got it free. It was about the size of an a5 page and was landscape. It was flimsy and old, and I realized it had been torn apart and taped back together.
I turned it over slowly in my hands, which I found were shaking for a reason I didn't quite know.
It was in black and white for some reason. There were four kids, maybe ten or so years old standing in a line in front of a massive concrete building. Some were wildkins, some weren't. They all had expressions that held more than anyone their age should. Some were deadly serious and some had wide eyes that had seen more than they were meant to. They all wore ragged white shirts with a number printed on it, a green bracelet and shorts. One of them was holding something. I stared for a second then realized. It was a gun. I looked up at the child's face.
My heart dropped.
I knew that face.
The child holding the gun was me.















Chapter two


I woke up with a jolt, sitting straight and looking ahead, just as we were taught to do every morning before the sun rose. I caught my breath before I swung my legs over the edge of the white bed, listening for the sound of the other units doing the same. There were three other white beds, all in a line with three metres and a bedside table between them. I strapped on my thick leather boots , then pulled on and buttoned my camo jacket. In flawless formation, My boots hit the ground with a thud. I had to be ready. I had to be perfect. I reached to my left, taking my gun and gripping the cold metal between my fingers.
We all turned and marched forward, in the order of units. Me at the back and four in the front. We have done this every day for eight years, even though we had been alive for twelve.The oldest of us was unit three, by two days. We finally reached the tall, silver door and stood, our faces blank with a discipline far older than we were. Eventually the door buzzed and slid open, leading us to a hallway with that awfully familiar pre training room waiting at the end. Two armed employees joined the line, one at the front and one at the back, leading us into the room. I could just about see the top of unit three's light brown hair as we walked, poking above unit two's awkward wings that stuck out of holes she'd cut into her jacket. They were big, but not big enough to fly with. Useless things that took up space, that's what they were. We finally reached the room and smoothed into a horizontal line across the wall. An employee briefly explained today's training. Shooting practice, quite simple. The employee stepped aside and we made our way into the training grounds. The artificial rain stung my wounds, still fresh from yesterday. There were four robots armed with guns patrolling these woods. And we had to kill them. And i had to win. As soon as the alarm blared for us to start, i ran north east into the thick woods, away from the walls of the concrete box we were in. I parted my jaws , trying to catch the robots smell in the wind. I enjoyed tracking things, I was skilled at it. My wildkin features proved useful sometimes. I twitched in frustration. The rain washed away everything's smell. I hissed to myself and ran further, scanning for footprints.
An alarm beeped , the first hour was over. Unit two had already found and "killed" a robot. My legs ached from running, and I could see the towering concrete wall that marked the end of the forest. I slowed my pace and halted at the wall. I panted, struggling to catch my breath. I could feel the cut on my left leg had reopened and was staining my uniform. A thud broke me from my thoughts. I looked up , stiffening my shoulders and flattening my ears. I caught a glimpse of silver. My tail perked up and I ducked into a bush, careful not to make noise. The robot whipped around to face me, and before it could react I shot it in the face. It fell backwards, smoke pouring into the sky. I walked up to the pile of metal and inspected it. There was a clean hole through the forehead, showing sizzling wires and mechanics. They were making the robots look more and more human-like, and in the back of my mind I couldn't help but compare it to a fellow unit. I shook myself and pulled a blue band from its wrist, breaking the wrist to get it. There was a slight ding sound and it was announced a robot was killed. I put the rubber band on my wrist and powered on through the forest. I wandered and listened for about another two hours, until the final siren went off. My skin on the soles of my feet was raw and torn and thorns adorned my palms. Unit three had " killed" the last robot. I trudged toward the siren, a little frustrated. I had only got one robot, one band. Unit three had got two. Twice as much as me. He did well in most training. Unit two was smart. Unit four was fast. I was able to survive in climates hotter or older than any other unit could. But in the end, unit three had an advantage. I shook my head. I just had to try harder. The siren was now deafeningly loud, and I was approaching the exit to the training hall. I stood in front of the silver doors, waiting. Unit two joined soon after, followed by unit four who was heavily out of breath . The red from my wound dripped onto the soil and sank into it, making a shallow puddle of scarlet lying on atop stained soil. Unit three padded up behind me, and all four units stood in a square. I could feel his stare burning into my head, a reminder of another victory. I pushed the slight ember of anger down into my stomach, deep until I might need it . The doors finally opened to the post training room.


There was a table of some cheap bandages and two miniature bottles of water. Employees stood behind it , blankly staring ahead like they always did. The other units and i took a second to process what we were seeing, before we glared at one another and scrambled in for whatever we could get. My first instinct was to go for a roll of bandages. I dove for it, my blood dripping onto the concrete. I dug my nails into it and looked around for the competition i knew was coming. Unit four swung over me and tried to grab it, but I rolled over and kicked her stomach . She dug her nails into my wound and I screeched trying to push her away. Unit three had got a bottle of water but , while trying to twist the cap open, was tackled to the ground and the water spilled into the unforgiving floor. Unit three, eyes wild with desperation, twisted to me and tried to reach out his arm to grab the difference between a swift victory in the next training session and a lifelong scar. He was interrupted by an ear splitting bang. An employee had shot his gun, not aimed at anything in particular. We had all let ourselves go in our savage urgency. I pulled myself up, white hot pain searing up my leg. I tried to compose myself. I went to hold my gun straight to my side, as prototocol, but realized with a jolt i left it outside in my blind panic. Shame shot through me. I clutched the bandages even tighter to my chest.




There was a table. A roll of bandages and two full bottles of water sat neatly on it. A few employees were behind it. My leg burned, desperate for the salvation of the riches just a few metres in front of me. The dirt greedily drank the blood that oozed from my open wound, my flesh sticking to my clothes. The bandages looked so perfect, so clean and ready. We all stood just outside the room, a mix of determination and a desperate grab at the control that just slipped through our fingers washing over us . Unit two was trembling, eyes fixated on the measly half litre of filtered water. She cried out, elbowing past us to head for the water.


The silence shattered in an instant, and I found myself tumbling towards a roll of bandages just behind unit three. I reached out and just managed to tear it from the table, clutching it to my chest with a gasp. I could hardly make out what I was seeing before unit three leapt at me. I hit the concrete, the breath knocked from my lungs and the dull pain from the impact stretching along my back. I didn't loosen my grip on the bandages.I heard unit three let out a guttural scream before he tried to tear the bandages from my hands. I rolled to my side to loosen his grip. He retaliated instantly, his arm shooting into my wound, his worn fingernails digging into my flesh. I screeched, raising my free arm and punching his stomach as hard as an eleven year old could. He flew onto the concrete as I whipped away, crawling backwards, the bandages still tight in my left hand. Unit four had managed to grab a bottle, which was quickly knocked from the floor, seeping into the cracks. Unit two dropped to her knees beside a sprawled unit three, trying to somehow save the water. I smelt smoke before i heard a gunshot. I whipped around, my ears ringing. An employee had shot a gun to get our attention. The loud sound broke us all from our tunnel sighted fight. We were informed we had responded incorrectly, and more training of self control was to be done. I pulled myself from the floor, composing myself. I didn't let go of my bandages. Another employee, a shorter one with a large burn scar on his hand, started to explain the routine instructions of going back to our quarters and that we had five minutes to clean our wounds with whatever we got.I had heard this set of instructions every single post training session, and I found myself struggling to listen. I glanced at the employees, never making eye contact. One caught my attention. He fidgeted slightly, and his uniform looked disheveled. Stranger than that, he almost looked like unit three. His face was longer and older looking, but the similarities were undeniable. His hair was shorter but the same gingerish brown colour. He had a look of determination in his eyes, like he was itching to do something but afraid to do it. I flattened my ears and went back to looking ahead at the other employee, still mindlessly listing over detailed recounts of our training and the landscape we faced. He eventually stopped speaking and turned and walked through metallic doors, followed by the other employees , then units. I was halfway down the hallway when I noticed an empty presence behind me.
Unit three?
I shook myself, willing my mind to ignore him. But curiosity took over me, and I glanced behind my shoulder. Unit three was still in the post training room, kneeling on th ground like a fatally wounded soldier. In his shaky hands he held a small piece of paper, like a photo. It most likely was dropped by a careless employee, and I couldn't see what interest he could possibly have in it. Something was wrong with him. There was something in his eyes i had never seen in a human before. Something behind his eyes had changed, perhaps broken or perhaps it had fixed itself.I bumped into an employee, and snapped my head back around as we reached the end of the hallway . I looked ahead to the opening into the unit quarters, our beds still lined neatly along the towering wall. I could hear unit three dashing up behind us, catching up again. I ignored the ragged breathing of the unit behind me and kept formation.
..








I wrapped the bandage around my leg around five times. I tore the end off and tied it together. Small spots of crimson bled through the layers , but the tight wraps kept pressure on the wounds. It stung a little. I inspected my arms and ankles for other wounds, but it was mainly previous bruises and unimportant cuts. I changed my t-shirt and shorts to clean ones, neatly folding the torn and blood stained clothes underneath my bed. The five minutes ended sooner than I thought it would, and all of the lights cut out, leaving us in a blanket of blindness. We had six hours before training would start again. I lay on my bed, hearing it creak under my weight.
...
There was a shifting sound. Something moved. There was a beeping sound, and a click. Then silence.








Chapter three












I threw the photo from my hands. I felt my chest tighten,each of my breaths coming more rapid and shallow, like breathing through a straw. My hands clawed at my shirt, digging for awesome kind of sensory certainty. I found myself violently shaking. How long had passed? An hour? A week? A lifetime? Colours flickered between awful clarity and a blurred watercolour mess as tears ran down my face and I broke into sharp sobs. My childhood home had gone from a space of old memories to a shaky , mold filled building that could swallow my body whole in an instant. What was that? A memory? A dream? It felt so awfully familiar . So disgustingly real. Who were those people? The other children? Are they alive? I shook my head, covering my face with a sleeve, trying to focus on letting myself breathe. The sobs slowed , slowly diminishing and leaving me with a strange heaviness. My chest ached from the fight for air. The flashback was gone, but the memories clung to my bones like maggots to a rotting animal. The way the gun felt in between my fingers. The harsh screaming of a reopened wound. A child calmly watching their peer's tear each other's skin to win such a basic necessity as water.


My thoughts condensed into a sharp clearness. It was a memory. Something pushed so far back into my skull I had never thought to question it. But now that I did, I wanted to, needed to find more. I pulled my tear drenched sleeve from my face, the cold dampness settling back into my skin. I almost went to text my parents, to ask them about it. To ask for answers, but something told me i wouldnt get any from them. That they pushed the memory back too. Or pretended they did. I pulled myself from the floor, small shivers seizing my heavy limbs as I stretched. The attics flimsy floor ached as I left it and balanced on my feet again. The picture still lay on the floor, only a foot away. It felt important. I reached down and grabbed it, folding it unevenly and shoving it into my trouser pocket before i climbed down the ladder again. My shoe touched the old carpet, which crunched when i set myself onto it. I pushed the ladder back up, concealing the attic again.
...
The drive home was quick and smooth, with little traffic. It was dark out. It was only four o clock, but winter had already folded the midday sky into a night of no stars. The moon was thin and curved. Streetlights blurred into each other as I sped past, turning into a warm coloured streak of metal and lights. Unit one. The name felt horribly wrong but so fitting. My hands tightened on the wheel. There had to be more. But I knew not many people would believe me if I told them. That there was anything more to my past than what was visible to the naked eye. I saw the silhouette of my apartment growing closer. I loosened my grip, turning in to park.
The cold air hit me as soon as i climbed out of the car. It stung my already raw lungs, and clawed at my spine. I trudged through melting snow, the fur of my tail bristling.
I pushed through the front doors of the apartment building, the rusting hinges of the worn door letting out a tired groan. My shoes left streaks of snow on the tiled floor as I dragged myself to the lift. The hallway smelled faintly of disinfectant. The elevator stuttered as it carried me upward, like it always did. I kept my eye fixated on the glowing numbers of the buttons. I wasn't sure if I wanted to see what I looked like right now. The doors slid open to show me the hallway of floor twelve, oak doors with chipped gold painted numbers dotting the walls. I made my way to my door, fumbling to get my key in. I twisted the key until the door gave a click. The lights of the hallway spilled into my black apartment as I pushed open the door. I trudged in, my tail dragging on the carpeted floor. The door closed behind me with a heavy thud.
Oh.
I never got the groceries.
I sighed, dropping my empty bag on the floor against the wall. My apartment was decent sized. It had a small hallway type thing with a bathroom on one side and my bedroom on the other . At the end of the hallway was my kitchen/ living room. The walls were a warm grey colour and the floor had short grey carpet. The lights hesitated to switch on , flickering for a moment before settling and washing the apartment in warm yellow light. I made my way to my room and sat on my blue bed, an old clock i had got on sale hanging limply on the wall across from me. It was three in the morning. I was at my old house for quite a while. I shuddered, though it wasn't cold. I couldnt stop thinking about what happened.I assumed it was a flashback of some sort, but it was too clear . It had all felt so real. I remember how the pain in my leg stung, how the blood made my clothes stick to my skin, how unit three's breathing felt hot on my neck. It felt more like my mind rebuilding a memory, piece by piece. I slumped back against my bedframe, the fur of my ears bristling at shadows that weren't there. I needed to tell someone. But who? I never really talked to anyone anymore. I tapped my nails on my knee as I thought. Charlie? I hadn't talked to him in months. Maybe years now. But he was my childhood friend. Maybe he knew me. Maybe he knew I wouldn't lie about this, about the facility. I'll call him in the morning. It meant that he was more likely to pick up the phone, but also at the back of my mind I didn't want the immediate responsibility of recalling what happened, explaining it in detail. I pulled the blanket over myself, not bothering to change or even turn the lights off. I couldn't seem to get my thoughts to still. The apartment was quiet. None of the other rooms seemed to be making any noise, stomping around or blasting awful music like usual. It almost felt as if I was alone in the building. The faint , inconsistent buzzing of the light made my tail twitch. I tried to close my eyes, but the old house replayed over and over in my mind, the smell of rot, the old box, the way worn paper felt in my hands . I jolted upright, my breath growing rapid. I shook myself. The lights buzzed louder. Or maybe it was my pulse. I didn't know anymore. I stood, dragging myself toward the kitchen, hoping water might ground me. The fridge buzzed faintly as I stared at the empty shelves, lacking the groceries anyone else would have remembered. There was a noise beneath the buzz of the fridge.
Ragged breathing.
Not mine.


I staggered backwards. The lights hummed louder , as if trying to drown out what I knew I heard. But I heard it. Faint. Uneven. It scraped against the silence, like a shard of glass dragging on a chalkboard. My body was completely stiff and rigid. Every part of my being screamed and cried out to run, to fight, to cry, to do something. But i couldnt. The sound came again. Closer. My eye darted across the room, grappling for something to look at, to be scared of. My missing eye felt strangely ironic. limiting. The sound came again. It was near . So near i could smell it.
Rotting flesh. Old blood. The sound grew louder .But it wasn't breathing.
I could hear its joints snapping and clicking, its flesh falling off in clumps and landing on the hardwood floor with an awful sound. I could feel it beside me, breathing on my skin. It was wrong. Too cold , too sharp. It was hard not to gag with the smell. Tears blurred my vision. My body couldnt take it. I cried out. The lights flickered. I bolted down the hallway, tearing my bedroom door open and slamming it shut. I pushed my body against it, sobbing like a young boy. There was a thumping sound. I could hear its body cracking and twisting outside the door. Thump. My nose burned through the door. Another thump. The door rattled against my back, each strike stronger than the last. Thump. I turned my head to the gap it was wedging open. I pushed harder, screeching. The door gave way easily. It snapped shut. The thuds stopped. I breathed. The light hanging from my ceiling swayed slightly. I stared at it in horror. Sparks fizzled at the edges .
The lightbulb exploded, sending glass shards flying across the room. A sudden darkness fell over the room. I could hear it.
Breathing.
So close the heat grazed my ear. I tried to scream but the sound caught in my lungs. I whipped around , falling on the floor, crawling backwards. It stood in front of me.
A child.
Short, messy ginger brown hair than lay on a head that was decaying under it.
Unit three.
I wanted to throw up. I tried to feel for a weapon, anything. My hands reached a hardback book. I threw it at his head with all my might, my eyes shut.




The noises stopped. I blinked open my eyes to the light on again. I was drenched in sweat. Everything was gone, my room was normal. I could hear my neighbours beside me arguing, blasting some crappy music. I pulled myself up.