World of the Whimsical

I just needed to run away from everything.

The pain, the suffering, the past, and all of the memories that plague it – I was overwhelmed by it all. I can no longer stand the arguments and constantly being reminded of how much of a “disappointment” I am. I try my hardest – pushing myself to the absolute limit to prove Mom and Dad wrong, but it will never be enough.

As I sat at that table, enduring another round of criticism and accusations against my character, I realized that I could never convince Mom and Dad to accept that I wouldn’t always live up to their ever-increasing expectations. I snapped, shouting at the top of my lungs that I hated them. Then, I ran out of the house and never looked back.

I had enough. I had enough of all the abuse – the intimidation and the tyranny. I could no longer stand it. I felt surrounded by the constant torment of never being “good enough.” Pushed to the brink, I broke myself free. I ripped off the chains and burst open the cage.

So, I’m running. I didn’t know where I was going; all I knew was that I had to escape. As I’m running, I’m trying to hold back a deluge of tears, but to no avail. They started rolling down my face, and it grew difficult to swallow. Though, I kept running, as I was vulnerable to the piercing cold of November.

The world around me became blurry. My hands and face went numb from the cold, and the breeze blew away my tears. I had to pry my eyes open a few times because they’d freeze shut.

Eventually, I made my way Downtown. I was exhausted. My feet and legs were sore from running, and I had difficulty breathing. I slowly trudged to a parking garage down the street from the convention center. Then, in a corner where no one would see me, I collapsed to the floor and broke down in a heaving sob.

I’ve never felt so alone – so isolated from the rest of the world. I had nowhere to go now. There was no one I could turn to for help. Worst of all, nobody could hear my cries of anguish. For the first time, I was truly abandoned.

Suddenly, in the thickening fog, I could hear laughter. It wasn’t the fun, joyful kind of laughter either. It was malicious – full of ill intentions. I started looking around in bewilderment.

“Where’s that laughing coming from,” I whispered to myself.

Moments later, shadows started appearing in the fog. Scores of them. As they got closer, the laughter grew increasingly loud. Soon, my ears began to hurt. I quickly covered them, but it had no effect. Even worse, my palms were covered in blood.

The shadows were now about ten feet from me. My mouth and throat went dry, and I started hyperventilating. Is this the moment that I die? Am I going insane? What is happening!?

I was cornered, scared, and confused. I wanted this to be just a hallucination. You know, a figment of delirium. Though, I didn’t have much time or capacity to figure out whether or not what I was experiencing was real. I burst into a manic scream, “Get away from me! Leave me alone! Go away!”

The shadows were not deterred. I started frantically swinging my arms in every direction. I figured that if I was going to die, it wouldn’t be without a fight. However, as the shadows moved within five feet of me, and the laughter began to morph into a loud, harsh screeching sound that pierced my ears, I suddenly lost consciousness.