Psychotic Nightmares

Natalie

Prologue

I can’t take it anymore.

My life isn’t worth living.

No-one would miss me if I died .

I think to myself as I pack up the equipment I require.

What is the point in me trying anymore? It’s not like I make a difference in anyone elses life.

I’m not part of anyones story. I lock the door behind me when I leave, not like anyone would find anything if they do break in.

Apart from the necessary furnishings, my home is completely empty as of this morning when I took all my personal belongings to the thrift store.

Well, almost everything. I hold on tight to the silver chain bracelet as it threatens to slide from my wrist. I have no idea who gave it to me, but I know exactly who it's from. Yes, I know that doesn’t make sense.

The only thing I know about this guy is the gorgeous Cerberus tattoo on his left forearm and he drives, or drove a grey Mustang.

He is the one who gave it to me, I saw it on his own wrist when I was pulling him out of the burning car, yet I didn’t see his face, only the mask, it had green crosses in place of his eyes, a smile lights up at the bottom near where his chin should be.

So that’s all I know of my gifter - his tattoo, his car and his choice of facewear.

“I’m sorry.” I whisper, willing the wind to pass on my message to the masked stranger. “I can’t do what you asked of me. I can’t survive.”

Finally making it to the lake, I check the time on my phone - 02: 34AM - and get to work.

By 02:58, I am walking into the cold water.

I shiver as I walk deeper in, the water now reaching my chest. Just a little more.

Soon it reaches my chin and finally I’m fully submerged, a little further and I can no longer penetrate the surface when I lift my arm up.

Perfect .

Slowly the burning starts taking over, the burn of my lungs trying to pull oxygen back into them, the burn of the dirty lake water in my eyes as they start to sting.

But the heartbreak burns more. As my body tries to fight with me, willing me to empty the rocks out my pockets, to untie the ropes cutting into my wrists and float back up to the surface, I fight back.

I can’t live this life any more, I can’t keep going back to them and let them break me over and over again.

I. Just. Can’t.

And as I feel my life slowly fading away, a familiar tattooed arm reaches for me.

I hear my name being called - over and over again.

When I open my eyes, I am no longer at the bottom of the lake, but on my couch.

In my home. Did I dream it all? No. The marks from where I attached the weights with the ropes are still raw on my wrists.

And beside me on the coffee table is an envelope addressed to me.

I don’t recognise the handwriting, I open it slowly, not knowing who it’s from or the contents.

And inside the envelope, a bloodied watch, the same watch my foster father used to wear when he abused me.

When he used to sneak into my room in the middle of the night and touch me.

To this day I can’t stand the sound of a ticking clock.

Why am I here? Who brought me back? Closing my eyes again, willing this headache away, I remember the tattoo.

3 heads.

3 sets of eyes glaring at me.

3 sets of teeth snarling at me.

Cerberus .