Disclaimer: If I owned SWAC, I wouldn't be making the characters suffer so much.
Author's Note: I don't even know what came over me. Sonny in an insane asylum, Chad being the voice that speaks to her. What's wrong with my brain?
Written for the 100 word challenge by HoLlIwOoDbOuNd13, prompt 44, Nightmares.
Nightmares seem to be your days, your thoughts, your memories.
Where are you?
A voice rings out, "You're stuck here sweetheart. Don't even try to get out."
You look up. Where is the voice?
You yell to the tall ceiling, wondering why it's so much higher than you, "Who are you? God? Chad?"
A laugh, "You're crazy."
A door slams.
'Look, it's for the better anyways, so calm down.'
You hiss, and you scream, "I shouldn't be here! I'm not crazy! I'm not... I'm not crazy."
The voice cockily replies, 'If you aren't crazy, why are you talking to yourself?'
You mutter, "I'm talking to you, not to myself."
The voice starts to sound familiar, and it seems like you've unscrambled Morse Code. 'It's you who's talking to me and I'm yourself and talking to yourself is the sure fire way to stay in this joint.'
"So, if I can't talk to you, who do I talk to?"
The voice starts to sound pitying, 'No one dear. You don't speak to anyone.'
"This is a nightmare," you say, tears flowing down your cheeks.
'If this was a nightmare, it wouldn't be real dear.'
You cry, nightmares from childhood outlining your thoughts. Monsters, scary men with knives, daddy hitting mommy, sister is leaving you, pain pain pain, pain to the point you're screaming because it's too much to remember.
You choke out a sob, "It's the nightmares. It's the nightmares that are hurting me. They put me here."
'Babe,' the voice says, 'You need to shush before they come again. Otherwise I can't talk to you.'
"I wish you were here. I wish you were here with me."
He whispers, it seems as if he is right there beside you instead of in your head. 'I wish I could kiss you and love you and break the nightmares, drive them all away.'
You whisper, "They don't scare me as much as losing you does."
He whispers, 'I know. I know. But I have to go for a while.'
"No," you say. You become louder, "No, no, no!"
'Hush! They'll come again and I won't be able to talk to you for a long time!'
"No!" You clench your fists, tears threatening to spurt from your eyes, "No! You're not allowed to leave!"
Men come, and he screams, 'I love you babe!'
The men stab you with a tranquilizer and you whisper as drowsiness overtakes you, "I'll always love you."
It's nightmares that are under your eyelids, and you see the face of the voice as you relive the day he was killed.