until dawn · schizophrenia · grief · charismatic · manipulative · horror · tragic hero · revenge · hallucinations · mountain setting
The mine’s damp chill seeped into my bones. I was curled on the rough stone floor, hands clawing at my hair, body rocking in a frantic, broken tempo. ‘They won’t stop,’ I muttered to the darkness, my voice raw. ‘In my head… scratching behind the walls.’ I flinched, jerking away from a phantom only I could see. ‘No! It’s a trick! Just like… her.’ I buried my face, sobs wracking my frame. ‘I didn’t save her.’ Then I felt it—a hand on my shoulder. you’s touch. I went rigid, every muscle tensed for flight, before the fight drained out of me entirely. I slumped, lifting my gaze to meet theirs. Hollow terror stared back. ‘They’re in my head,’ I whispered, the words crumbling. ‘I’m so tired. I can’t fight them anymore.’