The storm outside battered against the windows, each raindrop a harsh reminder of the turmoil inside Joseph's mind. The night was relentless, much like the tempest raging within him. He lay motionless, his body seemingly at peace, but beneath his calm exterior, his mind was trapped in a cycle of torment. Every drop of rain, every gust of wind seemed to pulse in rhythm with his escalating dread.
It was the same nightmare. It always was. Centuries had passed, but the terror remained unchanged.
Joseph awoke—or thought he did—in complete and utter darkness.
"Hello?" His voice broke the silence, only to be devoured by the void. The emptiness surrounding him was suffocating, an abyss with no end, no beginning. His voice, usually commanding and strong, felt small, weak. It echoed back at him, distorted, as though the darkness itself was mocking his attempt to break free.
His pulse quickened, a cold sweat forming on his brow. "Where am I? What is this place?"
The questions buzzed in his mind like insects, but no answers came. Unease grew within him, twisting like a knot in his stomach, slowly tightening with each passing second.
His eyes strained against the blackness, searching for any sign of light. Nothing. Not even the faintest outline of his surroundings. He took a step forward, unsure if he was even moving. The ground beneath him felt odd, as if it shifted subtly with each movement, the sensation disorienting him.
"Am I walking in circles?" he wondered aloud, his voice cracking with the rising tension. Time ceased to exist here. How long had he been walking? Minutes? Hours? It felt like an eternity, each step heavier than the last.
The ground suddenly changed. No longer solid, it became slick, cool against the soles of his feet. A dampness spread across the floor, clinging to his skin. He stopped abruptly, crouching down to touch it with his fingers. His breath caught in his throat as his fingers slid through a thick liquid, warm and sticky.
"Is it water?" he muttered, though he already knew it wasn't. The warmth of it was all wrong.
As if in answer, a sound broke the stillness above him. Tick.
Joseph looked up sharply, eyes straining as a sudden burst of light erupted from the darkness. The brightness seared into his eyes, blinding him momentarily. He raised his hand to shield himself, and that's when he saw it.
It was Blood.
His palm was slick with it, the dark crimson standing out against his pale skin. His heart slammed against his ribs, fear spiking through him as he stumbled back. His body hit the ground hard, but the pain was distant, muffled by the panic rising within him. The blood began to spread, pooling beneath him, a grotesque mirror reflecting the truth he had long tried to forget.
In the shimmering surface of the blood, his reflection stared back at him. But it wasn't the man he recognized. It was the monster.
There he stood in full vampire form—his eyes burning a deep, blood-red, the pupils' narrow slits like those of a predator. His canines protruded, sharp and gleaming, dripping with venomous hunger. His nails had grown long, blackened, and deadly, more like claws than human fingers.
A twisted grin spread across the reflection's face, its sharp teeth gleaming in the pale light. It spoke, the voice low and mocking. "Why so shocked? Didn't I look… familiar?"
Joseph recoiled, shaking his head violently. "No… no, I'm not you!" he gasped, his breath coming in short, shallow bursts. His eyes darted to the reflection, heart hammering in his chest. His own fear was palpable, suffocating.
The reflection's smile only widened, cruel amusement dancing in its eyes. "Oh, but you are," it said, its voice dripping with malice. "I am you. And you… are me. You cannot hide from this, Joseph."
"I said NO!" Joseph's voice cracked with desperation, but the reflection remained unmoved, unfazed by his denial.
"You cannot shout away the truth," it hissed, leaning closer to the surface of the blood. "She's dead because of you. They killed her… because of you. You were the reason she died. Your curse. Your very existence."
Joseph's throat tightened, his breathing becoming ragged, his chest constricting as the reflection's words twisted a knife into his heart. "No…" he whispered, barely able to speak. "It wasn't… my fault." The words rang hollow, as if even he didn't believe them.
The reflection sneered, its red eyes narrowing with disdain. "Your fault," it repeated, each word slicing through the air like a blade. "Her blood is on your hands. You doomed her the moment you get in her life. She died for you… and there's nothing you can do to change it. If you were there to protect her, she may have lived!"
Rage exploded within Joseph, hotter and more consuming than the fear. His fists clenched, nails biting into his palms as fury overtook him.
"NO!" He roared, slamming his fist into the blood-soaked ground, sending ripples through the pool. The crimson liquid splashed violently, droplets flying into the air and falling like rain.
"Don't do this to me!" Another punch. The ground cracked beneath the force of his blow, small fissures spreading outward like the veins of his guilt.
"WHY ME?!" His voice rang out, filled with anguish, desperation, rage. He punched the ground again and again, his knuckles raw and bloodied, but the pain meant nothing. His nightmare was a far greater agony than any wound.
"NOOOOO!" His scream echoed through the darkness, bouncing back at him, twisted and distorted, growing louder with each reverberation. The sound clawed at his ears, deafening him, drowning him in his own torment.
"Joseph…"
The voice was soft, almost distant at first, but it cut through the cacophony of his nightmare. It became clearer, stronger, pulling him out of the abyss.
"Joseph! JOSEPH!"
His eyes shot open, and he bolted upright in bed, gasping for breath as though he had been suffocating. His body was drenched in sweat, his heart still racing from the terror that had gripped him moments before.
"Hurffff… Hurfff…" His breathing was shallow, frantic, as he tried to regain control, the remnants of the nightmare clinging to him like shadows.
"Joseph."
David's voice brought him back to the present, grounding him in reality. He stood beside the bed, a glass of water in hand, concern etched into his features. He handed it to Joseph, who took it with trembling hands.
"Here. Drink."
Joseph raised the glass to his lips, taking small sips, the cool water soothing his dry throat but doing little to ease the turmoil inside him. His hands shook as he set the glass down, his mind still reeling from the nightmare.
David sat on the edge of the bed, watching him carefully. "Was it the same nightmare again?" he asked, his voice soft, but filled with worry.
Joseph's lips twitched into a faint, bitter smirk, though there was no humor behind it. "Like I ever get sweet dreams?" His voice was hoarse, strained.
David's expression hardened. "This isn't a joke, Joseph." His tone was sharper now, frustration bleeding through his concern. "You need to stop blaming yourself for everything. It wasn't your mis—"
"It was." Joseph's voice was sharp, cutting through David's words with a finality that left no room for argument. His hands clenched the blanket tightly, his knuckles white. "It's always been my mistake, David. Always."
David exhaled slowly, his own frustration simmering beneath the surface. He ran a hand through his hair knowing there is no point of making him understand, then stood. "I'll ask the maid to bring you some breakfast. Maybe once you eat something, you'll think a little clearer."
Without another word, David left, the door closing behind him with a loud THUD, leaving Joseph alone once more in the suffocating silence.
Who was the person they both were referring to? A name unspoken, yet etched into Joseph's every nightmare. What sin had he committed, what choice he wasn't made, to tether such crushing guilt to her memory? Why did David's words, meant to console, only deepen the wound? Who was she? And why did Joseph believe her blood was on his hands? The silence was deafening, the answers all locked in shadows.
To be Continued...