Big Thanks To @the_psyentist and @armistice for the feedback and proof read.
"The last thing I remember was the blood...
Then came the taste, a cold copperish sensation still lingering at the back of my throat. I gagged as I sat up from the bed. my tried eyes looking around the cold darkness surrounding the room.
A gentle tap as i sat on the edge of the mattress the blood flowing downwards from my fingers to the floor. Perfect crimson droplets colliding with the polished, wooden floor.The dark droplets tainting the shadows at my feet. I walk towards the mirror my feet smearing the crimson juices across the floor. Stopping at my wife's dresser i catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I don't see myself I see something else. Then I wake up. It's always the same, has been for weeks now.
So, tell me Doctor, am I crazy?"
A wry smile rising from the corners of the doctor's mouth.(comma space)the corners of which disappered(*disappeared) beneath his beard. "We don't like to use the term "crazy" ; It's not healthy. But Richard, I can tell you without hesitation that you're not crazy. You're aware of the abnormality of the dream that persists in manifesting itself to you. The question I would like to ask you is why do you think that is?"
Richard looked down at his hands spotless in his waking state, the lights overhead providing him a clear view of his pristine unspoilt digits.Their cleanliness was without question, but he could vividly still feel the sticky clotting hands of his nightmares.The blood setting on his palms, yet still fresh in places like a wound sat hidden from his eyes. "I guess.... I guess it's down to the problem not being fixed. Like a resolution not being found. You know a cycle that hasn't been broken. Look I don't know doc, I work a dead end job to keep my family fed. I don't have a degree in psychology."
The doctor made it obvious to change his position and stare his patient dead in the eye before continuing. "Very astute for a man who as you say works a dead end job." He smiled to punctuate his pleasure with his patient. "Have you considered that it's perhaps a deep seated dislike of your situation? Blood doesn't always mean death. It can mean change, a painful change perhaps, but maybe that's what you're longing for subconsciously. Is your job monotonous, your family life stale?"
The doctor's question was clearly not meant to offend yet Richard couldn't help but feel a little insulted with the line of inquiry. "I work in the sorting room. I place orders in cages all day, well I did when I was working. It can be quite boring. But it's easy and pays well. Better than I could get elsewhere after I finished school. My family life is fine.... I love my wife and my daughter. We all get on as well as any other family, I guess. I love my family, They are why I'm here. I am worried, doc. I'm worried that what I see when I close my eyes may try to one day escape. It would leave me with nothing" Richard cradded(*cradled) his head between his hands as he waited for a response from the doctor, an unsettling noise waking behind his skull, bouncing around, trapped inside his head was a primal force echoing in the depths of his mind.
"Richard, I am going to recommend some observation. I would like you to stay overnight at the facility so we can record and document an episode. It will help us diagnose you a lot faster, presuming you consent to it. I assure you, you will be perfectly comfortable and safe. Your family likewise. Are you feeling able to try?"
The noise within his head was growling ever louder behind his eyes, the horrific sounds within almost drowning the waking world completely out under its overpowering animalistic cry. Taking every ounce of his mind to focus on his response, Richard tried to keep his tone and pitch, even hiding his mental distress under a facade of normality."Sure. Tonight. Show me where to go."
Three weeks later
DONG.DONG.DONG. An ancient grandfather clock echoed around the vacant corridor, Its grand chimes reaching every corner of the house. Richard sat cross-legged in the kitchen staring into the darkness from where the ringing centered. The towering oak clock was ringing in an hour that no sane person should be awake to greet. It had been weeks since his appointment, his mind growing weaker as the internal conflict continued. A rampaging beast running rampant in his mind. A cold, formless shape hidden in the dark but with piercing grey eyes. Richard's last strands of sanity creaking under the tension of his sleepless mind, muttering to himself some inaudible mantra trying to restrain the anger, the animal, the other voice trapped in the recesses of grey matter. Looking down at the floor, rocking frantically, he continued to mumble.
"There is no creature; It's only a dream... only a dream."
The clock continued to chime. Even out of sight he could envision the hands barely moving. Time seemingly moving ever slower around him. His consciousness felt trapped in some godless place beyond all realms of reason. A formless blanket of darknass was all consuming, a beast hidden in its midst, cloaked by the shadow. Wits rapidly approaching their final end, the last bastion of light within his mind was primed to fail and be devoured finally by the hidden creature.
Crumpling to the ground as the fortress of his mind shattered somewhere deep within. A full grown man cradling himself on the cold kitchen floor. His fetal form let out a whimper as the tears began to flow. RIchard's mind was finally and completely broken.
Minutes passed, then hours. The morning finally dawning as the screams started. His body moved on instinct, brandishing a bread knife as he slowly and methodically moved towards his terrified wife. His daughter Sarah sheltered by his wife Alice's arm as they both started to backtrack. Alice coming to a halt as little Sarah's feet collided with the base of the tower clock standing next to the front door. "Don't do this Rich, this isn't you. Please, we love you. We just want to help you." Richard moved ever forward closing in, his dreams and the grey eyes within them seeking their violent conclusion. The man that Richard was lost beneath an all empowering violent impulse.
Fingers tightening around the blade, his free hand reached rapidly at the fringes of his wife's gown. The world faded to black and into the cold bitter air of night. Richard unsure of his location looking frantically around. His body instantly felt the uncomfortable and unnatural dampness. His eyes were suddenly and fully opened to the horror around him, words lost within. All emotion burst free from him in one loud, ear ringing scream. Straddling his lap were the two life less heads of his wife and daughter, his right hand cradling a battered bread knife.
His vision was fixed, staring at the terror, glazed over their dull, lifeless eyes. Freckeld spatters of dry blood sporadically were dotted across their faces. Flashes of memories sparked in his mind. The clock, the kitchen floor, the knife, the blood and the piercing grey eyes.
"What have I done?"
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