Don't you ever wish for something fantastical to happen to you?

You wanna be different—you want to get away from this normality of yours and live happily in a world you make your own? You want to fly, shoot lasers from your eyes, do whatever you wish. Like a dream infinitely lucid in your mind. But you live it every day. It's real. You live without fear, and you can do whatever your heart desires.

"Don't you wanna be happy?"

"Why aren't you happy?"

"What's wrong with you?"

"Why can't you be normal?"

"Why are you like this?"

"They hate you."

"We hate you."

"I hate you!"

A boy woke with a great chill flowing throughout his body. Startled from a dream he twirled around and sat on the side of his mattress, visibly mortified. It seemed like ages since he had that dream, the same that's haunted him for almost two months now.

His room, albeit small and lacking of content, was a treasure. Though most of it was taken and sold—even his own pillow and blankets—he still found solace and comfort every time he comes here...most of the time, anyway.

He looked down at his arm, barely visible in the blue moonlight cast from his bedroom window. He took his fingers and drifted them across his neck. His throat tightened as he began to remember the dream he woke from. A terrible thought crept in as his vision slowly clouded.

"Your life is forfeit, she should have gone through with it."

The boy fell back into bed and buried his face in his hoodie as he sniffled and melted under his own anxiety. He struggles to drown out his thoughts before they got any worse. Unfortunately, they continued to plague him.

"Why didn't you let her kill you?"

"You should be dead."

"No one would've cared."

"All monsters die in the end."

"What a waste!"

As regrets and sadness circled him like crows, he began to drift off to sleep once more. In a pool of tears he lay, nearly unconscious. The only warmth he feels from this cool darkened night is that from his clothing. No sheets or blankets, not even a pillow. At least the hoodie he wore was comfortable. It's the only good memory he has left of this place, after all.

"I hate this." he whined, gripping his chest before he finally drifted back into his unfinished nightmare.

"I hate this...so much..."