"Clay?"
The sound of his voice being called left him feeling dizzy. He watched as Katelynn dragged him off into what seemed to be… nothing. The air around him slowly started to change from a comfortable memory to a strange and sad one.
"Clay!"
He watched as the space that sat between him and Nathan became wider and wider? What is he doing? Why couldn't he move? The sound of his name echoed as the woman in front of him continued to drag him. Something didn't seem right. This didn't happen. He remembers being pulled, but he was able to pull himself away.
"Clay!"
Slowly, the face that was once Katelynn began to turn into something more sinister. The skin off her face began to melt, leaving muscles, tissue and teeth still attached to it. Kate's hair made its way to the floor as her jaw began to move. Clayton began to scream, but nothing came out. What happened to his voice? To his sound?
"Clay!"
Who was saying his name? And why did they sound tired? The scary thought surged its way into his mind. Yasmine didn't have control of her body, so what was he doing? Was he hurting someone? Yasmine? Nathan? Who was it? Clayton began to kick the skeleton that attached itself to him. Although it was quiet, he could feel the sound of her screaming over and over again. It felt like he was underwater. Waves of struggle continued to smack the man in the chest as he continued to fight.
"Clay!"
"I'm trying dammit!" His lips move to make the sound, but nothing came out. But to his surprise, the feeling of hands around him slowly dissipated. He was free.
Clayton began to back his way from this pile of bones as he searched around. The nice place which once was the venue of his wedding, was gone. He was alone. In the same dark place.
But something was different.
The exhausted man looked around his body to see what changed among his tired body. Although he was alone, his body had returned to his natural state. Clayton smiled. All this time, he thought you'd be a goner, but no. It would just transport you to another memory. His fingers smoothed out his clothes before he started to pace around. Why was that thought brought up? It wasn't important or related to Pharaoh in any way. So why did he have to see it? He seethed as he felt the slight sting of pain surging through his arm. The pain felt agonizing, like placing your hand on a curler after it was sitting on for hours. The pain felt terrible, yet… addicting.
Clayton pulled up his dirt ridden sleeve to see what was causing him so much pain. At first, he expected it to be small, a singe from falling, or kicking the weird thing off his body.
But he was wrong.
Patches of burns and blood stained itself on his arms. Each area held its own colony as the middle turned more bruised as time went on.
What is happening? He started to feel the irritable sensation more and more as he slowly made himself move forward.
"I need to go." The sound of blood hitting the space below made him lose his mind. He could feel the blood in his shoes, staining everything that held him to the floor. Soon, his arms weren't the only thing that shines with scars. He started to curse loudly as he could feel his legs coming over with the same feeling. What was happening to him? What was his body doing? Was it Josiah? Pharaoh? Who was it that placed him in this hell?
Still, nothing that appeared on his skin gave him the motivation to stop. He slightly smiled as he realized what progress he had made. It wasn't much, but it was much more than what he hoped to achieve under these conditions. Slowly, he could feel the unnerving rash starting to work on his face. First was the itching, then the blood came following after.
Clayton could feel his body start to slow down. It felt as if his own limbs had given up on him. He panicked as the only thing that consistently stayed in his line of sight, was red. Blood moved from the ducts of his eyes to his cheeks as he started to stumble everywhere. He hoped that a new memory would arise. He hoped something else would happen. To take the pain away.
"Clay!"
The voice persisted as he struggled to breathe. It wouldn't be long now. Long before blood would take over his lungs and stop him from taking complete breathes. Still, he couldn't bring himself to move. Though, the calling of his name still persisted.
Why?
The feeling of someone's hand softly caressed him as he tried to save his breathing. He didn't know who it was, but the feeling of their long nails glazing over his felt…relieving. The hand moved its up and down his pimpled arm before he began to hear a voice.
"Clay. He said, "Let go"." The voice sounds miles different, but he could still point out the voice that it belongs to. It's been years, of course, but nothing healed like hearing the sound of another person's voice right now.
"Then how do I do that?" His voice shaked as streams of tears and blood flowed effortlessly from his eyes. It stung, the feeling of blood pouring out of his eyes hurt. But it was nothing compared to the thing that erupted in his skin. His legs shaked alone from the puss that exploded from each blister. His arms felt as if another movement would send them into orbit. He wanted to end this pain, by any means necessary. "Kayla, you have to help me."
But she didn't answer.
She didn't have to.
Clayton closed his eyes to stop what he could from leaking out. He was tired, tired of remembering, tired of running around, solving some unsolvable mystery. All he wanted to do was relax with Yasmine and never worry about any of this again. He wanted to relax.
The slight feeling of numbness consumed his body for a few moments. Was he gonna fade away? Go into another memory? Anything, but where he was now. He needed to sleep, he needed to…
Go away.