Though it had hardly been a week since the nightmares and the visions had begun, Tess would swear she’d clawed her way through half an eternity in hell.
They always started the same, the visions, whether she was awake or dreaming. They began with the sound of the sky screaming as it was torn apart, shred open by talons that cleaved through the subtle membranes between dimensions. And then the world would turn red as the sky bled out upon it, and a hurricane arose as every voice cried out in terror while from the tattered, bleeding sky strode
abominations - mountainous monsters, titans that sought only carnage and left oblivion in their wake.
And whether awake or dreaming, Tess would scream.
At least at home, as she was now, she had the mercy of being alone so there was no one to look and wonder and whisper. She screams until she realizes she’s screaming, until she realizes she’s all alone in her house, her room, in the dark and all alone.
“Damn it,” she rasps and collapses back onto her pillow.
The echoes of her scream long gone, the room is now heavy with a pregnant kind of silence. Tess scowls. Something must be done. About the visions and the fear and the screaming, about the way she felt she was being chipped away at, piece by piece, leaving her feeling fragile like she was made of glass and about to fall into a thousand jagged pieces at any moment.
Rolling on her small bed she reaches for her phone where it lays face down on the nightstand and flips it over, clicking the screen to life to check the time which elicits a miserable groan. Nearly three in the morning.