AN: This story isn't going to be like the rest that I have written. It's not the usual dark romance or even very romantic for that matter. Black Out is going to be a thriller with mystery, drama, and very little romance. Hope I don't disappoint to many of you, but I really liked the idea and it's going to be intense. Thank you for considering this story and reading it. Please leave me a review with what you think.
Shooting straight up in the dead of night, her body trembled. The heavy pressure on her chest made her feel suffocated, while her body shook violently with no explanation. The same three numbers flashed at her from the nightstand. Only shades of black surrounded her and she rapidly scanned her room for any signs of trouble. It happened again.
Her staggered breaths were lost in the night. The beads of sweat formed below her hairline. Foreign feelings of the unknown crept along her skin. She always woke as if she didn't know where or whom she was to only find moments later she was fine.
The dreams were becoming more intense.
Strange vicious images flickered like a lighter and overpowering emotions took control. With no reason for this particular occurrence, she could not explain it. Every few nights she dreamt like this and woke up exactly the same.
She tried to avoid eating past eight o'clock and she made sure she got a healthy amount of rest at night while during the day she stayed active. Even to the extreme measures, she had sought medical help, but nothing erratic came up. She was normal, yet with the way she felt right now, she didn't feel close to normal at all. No matter what she did to prevent this from happening, it only got worse.
The nights she didn't wake from a crazed dream and quivering with fear were good nights in her book, literally. In the top drawer of her nightstand she kept a tiny hard cover journal. The idea came to her after the second week she had the reoccurring thoughts and images as she slept. Each night when she awoke she recorded the time, date, and what she could remember. For the nights left untouched by the madness, she wrote those down too. The good and the bad made it on to the pages with her scribbled handwriting. Sometimes it made sense, while most it didn't. Closing her eyes she pictured what she would write.
It happened again tonight. I woke up at exactly 4:44 a.m. My body was shaking. My throat felt dry and as if it was going to close on me. I'm scared that one time I won't be able to breathe, that my throat will close up or my lungs will give out. What is going on?
The strange images were back and they were different this time though. I still saw the trees and the lake. The moon was full and the small cabin was there like it always is. But something else happened. I saw a dark figure. I've never seen that before. And when I saw it, it made me so mad. It made me the angriest I've ever felt. Then there were noises and I felt like my body was dancing. My arms were moving mostly, but the rest of my body moved along with it. The most menacing laugh came and I believe it was coming from me. It didn't even sound like me, but I think it was. I don't know what to think of the whole thing especially with the new images and how it made me feel, but I definitely don't like it. I want this to all stop, but I don't know how.
Please help me. I can't take this much longer. Each time it happens it gets more intense and worse. I don't feel like myself and when I wake it's taking longer to understand who I am.
I don't know how I'm supposed to be normal anymore. My friends are even worried. They think I'm abusing some drug or they think I'm losing my mind. I don't like the way they talk about me about behind back or the judging looks they give. I want this to all stop. I want them to stop.
Somehow I have to figure this out. I can't go on like this forever. There has to be an explanation. It's been going on for a month now and I'm afraid if I don't figure it out, I'm going to do something terrible. Something I cannot even fathom to say at the moment.
All right, now I'm rambling and letting my dark thoughts get to me. Thank you dear journal for letting me share what I can't in person. This is the only place I can be free with what is going on.
- Friday April 4th, 2013 4:44 a.m.
The words were scribbled down on the pages. She didn't even remember actually reaching for her journal, but it had happened. The disturbance still fogged her mind and she needed to clear it. Tossing her journal back in the drawer, she moved toward the bathroom. She wondered if what she wrote would even make sense later as she had done it in the dark. No time for light when you had those precious moments of clarity of what you just dreamt and in fear of losing them. Elena shook her head.
In the bathroom, she pushed the switch up so the light barely faded on. The brightness of the bulb would be too much for her tired and sensitive eyes. Having diming lights installed was a plus right now.
She turned on the faucet letting the cool water trickle on the backside of her hands. Turning them over, she cupped the water and splashed it upon her face. It felt refreshing. She let out a much needed sigh. As she reached for a towel, she noticed something odd. Her usual white linen towels were stained and marked with something disgusting. Staring at it, she became puzzled. Her hand reached for the light switch and turned it on all the way up. Instantly, the towel fell from her hand.
Red, dark red stains colored the white towel. Elena looked at her hands and saw the faint pinkish red upon them too. Her body spun around to find more traces of the color scattered throughout her bathroom. Drops were around the sink. Her clothes had blotches now turning into a maroon shade. The floor was covered in brown footprints mixed with the same red that was everywhere else. Her body began to tremble again.
The neutral color surrounding her could not be mistaken. It was blood.
But was it hers?
She quickly checked for any scratches or cuts. Nothing. Not a single mark was left on her body and nothing big enough could have caused this much blood. If it wasn't hers, then who was it?
Running back out to her bedroom, she turned on the lights to find that the trail continued out there. Her bed was stained in small spots from where she slept. A path of footprints carefully pacing around the floor could be seen as well. She ran to her nightstand to find her journal smudged with red on the binding and on the pages she had just written on
What the hell was this?
Her first instinct was to call the cops. But how would she explain it? She didn't remember anything all. She didn't know how she had someone else's blood on her hands and on everything she owned. If anything, calling the cops was a bad idea.
She was alone in this.
The only other person she could reach out to right now would be her Uncle John. She lived with him as she attended classes at a local college in Mystic Falls, Virginia. With classes ending a few weeks ago and summer break upon her, she had stayed seeing as she had made friends. He didn't mind seeing as he lived alone and had a big house all to himself. In fact, she enjoyed it here, but now as things like this were happening she wasn't sure about it at all. Would this still be going on if she were back home with her parents? She didn't know.
Going to wake her sleeping uncle covered in blood also sounded like a horrible idea. She didn't even know if he was home as he was currently seeing a girl, Isobel and tended to spend his night there. Once again, she reminded herself she was in this alone.
All of this blood had to disappear. The only thing she knew to do was wash it away and to start out with herself. She stripped herself of her clothes and tossed them in the corner. Everything that was stained would have to go. How she was going to explain it to her uncle would be a different story. Right now, she had to focus on cleaning herself.
Not waiting for the water in the shower to warm up, she jumped right in. She scrubbed her palms and her face. Next, were her arms. It took a while before the red turned pink and the pink turned to the color of her skin. She threw her head under the showerhead letting the water soak her. The cold water changed to hot and it was soothing. Her body did not want to move and so she sunk to the ground curling up in a ball. She stared at her hands and she began to cry.
No explanation. No answers ever came from this. What was wrong with her?
The palms of her hands didn't even seem like her own. Traitors in disguise are what they were. She was too scared to even face her own reflection. The girl that would stare back could be something evil and masked as herself. She was losing control. She was losing who she was. She didn't know what to think anymore without wondering if she was becoming crazy. However, there was one thing she did know. The blood on her hands wasn't a coincidence. The awful nightmare wasn't a dream. This was real. She had done something horrible and it wasn't the first time either.