From my closed eyes, all I can see is black. Hopeless, heartless black, enveloping all in a shroud of nothingness. I breathe out, and can feel a gallon of consciousness evaporate into thin air. Warm, homely air, abandoning me. I can see them coming. Their dark silhouettes dance on the dark wall of my room, the wood of the walls casting shadows as far as the setting sun will toss them.

In the pit of my stomach, I know that this is a bad idea—I should turn back before that one comes into mind. I don’t want that memory back, I can just tell from the way she stares at me with such animosity and disgust, her skin writhing from the muscles she clenches to try and destroy me. I vaguely sense my hollow heart twisting and shouting at me.

But it’s too late—I can feel their hands pulling me down. Cold, writhing hands from the memories that so hate me—they rip the breath from my lungs and the blood from my heart. I choke, convulsing as I try with all my might to get the air back. My brain slows, numb from the lack of sweet oxygen.