Chapter 5 - Y/N

I wanted to believe it was just another nightmare. That I would soon wake up in my bedroom, in my shitty ass apartment, sweaty and tired but in the safety of my own bed.

I wanted to believe that I would go back to my regular life, with my regular coworkers at the diner, my regular classmates in school whom I hadn't met in real life, but I still somehow missed. Because even if I was constantly bored out of my mind, normalcy was a bliss now that I was tied up to a chair and without really knowing what was going to happen.

But no, this was all too real to be just a bad dream.

I couldn't breathe, or at least I felt like I couldn't. The smell from the hood that covered my head was nauseating, and I could feel the burning sensation and pain of my wrists and ankles.

It was all too much.

While I was talking with Toby I felt calmer, terrified of what he could do to me, but at least it was distracting from the daunting reality of being tied uncomfortably to a chair. Kidnapped and unsure of what's gonna happen.

'Why didn't he kill me? Why delay the inevitable?', because let's face it. This doesn't end well for me. It never does.

'He did say I wasn't the person they were hired to kill... that's something, I guess'.

The rain was still heavy, the coldness creeping on to me as the time passed. I could tell it was getting darker and darker outside by the dimming light I could see through the fabric.

Darkness. I hated it. It made me feel frightened and alone. And I fucking hated it.

After years of therapy, I learned it was due to abandonment issues. Or so the therapists said in one of my visits to the hospital. Honestly, I'm not entirely sure I agree.

My mom died from pneumonia when I was very young, young enough to not remember much of her but old enough to have warm, albeit faint, memories of her.

After she died, my dad went from a loving and kind person to a mean drunk. It started gradually after her funeral, his drinking becoming heavier and heavier with the passing time.

I was a kid, so I didn't know back then, but now I know that our constant change from apartment to apartment meant that he couldn't hold a job for long enough. As a little kid, I just saw it as an adventure, and I would pretend we were on the run because we were spies. Eventually though, as I got older, I got tired of constantly changing schools and not being able to settle in one place. I felt like I didn't belong anywhere.

My dad was just getting worse and worse with his drinking. He would go on benders, and me even as a preteen, had to look for him and take him home from the bar.

A couple of years later, with some help with his meetings, he stopped drinking. Not that it would change much of anything. Instead, he just wouldn't leave his bedroom for days and days. I know now that he was depressed, and that he was definitely still drinking, even if not as much. But back then, I was just confused and hurt by him and his lack of care for me.

He would often forget about me. Not forget that I exist, but forget that I needed *stuff*. I didn't care, I learned to take care of myself and I felt proud of it. Even if the school lunch was often the only meal I had, or if I wore the same clothes for days.

No one ever called the authorities, no one cared enough to *actually* check what was happening. To this day I wonder why none of my teachers cared or took notice.

One night however, I remember being hungry. I hadn't eaten all day and I had a headache.

I was, what? Maybe 12 years old? 13? Probably 13, because I remember I used to watch (Childhood T.V Show) all the time.

I went into the bedroom to look for my dad, to tell him I was really hungry and that we needed groceries. I didn't mind going to get groceries, I would steal stuff from time to time. Small things like candy bars and lighters. No one ever caught me and it was exciting.

The door was closed, so I knocked. No response. I knocked again, getting impatient and growing tired of his shit. Nothing.

"Fuck it", I said in the empty hallway. I took a deep breath and slowly opened the door. "D-dad...?", I said while peaking my head inside the room.

It was dark, all the blinds and curtains were closed and the air felt heavy. I could hear trash as I cracked open the door a bit wider. The room smelled of old takeout, sweat and decay.

"Dad, are you here...?" I called him again. I was getting impatient, but I was also feeling a weird sensation of terror, and I wanted to get the hell away from there.

Everything was so dark.

I couldn't see much inside the bedroom, so I decided to walk in and turn on the light.

.

.

.

I wish I hadn't.

After the funeral, I was sent to live with one of my aunts. She never really cared much about me, although she did her best to keep me fed and safe.

I guess that's unfair of me to say.

The thing is that she never wanted kids, and then I arrived at her doorstep. It was a responsibility she never wanted, and yet she still did her best to help me. She wasn't a loving person towards me, but she was never really *unkind*.

Before everything went to shit in my life, I had met her a few times. She would often travel for work and it always impressed me she had a PhD. I wanted to be like her when I grew up. But, after living there for a few days I realized she was just a normal person with normal issues like everybody else, not the hero I would often think of her.

One day, she left for work and I had the day off from school because of snow. 'Sucks to be her, ha!' I remember thinking.

While roaming around the house, I found the attic door. And it soon became my favorite place in the house.

Up there I felt safe and hidden from everyone. I would play pretend, imagining fantasy scenarios in my head. Conversations that never happened, conversations that would never happen.

Oftentimes my fantasies made me into a warrior, a pirate, a witch... Anything that could hold power. I would picture myself going on vengeful crusades. Sometimes my fantasies were just made up conversations with classmates and people I've met.

My brain would crave those fantasies, often catching myself daydreaming while walking down the street to my home. Not remembering how I got there even.

Most of the time my fantasies would end abruptly though. The realization would crush me, as I knew I was alone and not really having a conversation with anyone.

When my problems came crashing down and my fantasy worlds were destroyed, I was left to face the real world and would have *tantrums*, as my therapist at the time would call them. In all honesty, I was angry at my dad for not trying, for not staying with me and caring for me. I did know how difficult it was for him to lose mom, I could see it and I suffered because of that. But I lost her too.

Now I had lost them both.

I wasn't easy to deal with, I knew that. I was an orphan teenager, dealing with a lot of stuff in my head, living with a person who I knew didn't want me.

Back then I couldn't see that my aunt still tried to help me as much as she could. Although we were both honest about how much we hated the situation we were put in.

Soon enough my anger issues, my depression, my anxiety and everything else got the better of me. I was in and out of psych wards, due to suicide attempts on a couple of occasions. Which could be seen as ironic given my past. But I didn't necessarily want to die, I just felt hopeless and exhausted from everything going on in my life.

I often felt like I was once again lost in the darkness of that room, the room I found my dad. The person who was supposed to care for me and love me. Instead, I found a corpse.

Eventually therapy and medication did the trick, or at least worked enough to get my life back together to move out to a different town. I then got the job at the diner and even started taking a couple of online classes at (University Name).

Life was getting better... Until it wasn't.

Thinking about my aunt made my heart hurt. Even if she was never a mother figure to me, I knew now that she did her best.

'I wonder how my aunt is doing, if she knows... I wonder if I was reported as a missing person or if I was lumped in the whole mess of body parts, flesh and blood.', I shivered at the thought of the gore that was probably left behind at the diner.

I felt myself coming back to reality, too deep in my thoughts to notice that I had been crying. My tears were now dried and sticky on my face. I felt numb and kind of out of it, exhausted. Physically and mentally exhausted.

All I could feel was a faint buzzing in my head.

Feeling calmer, I just stayed there, thinking about what the fuck was going to happen to me now. 'At least he hasn't hurt me... if we ignore when he slapped the living bejeezus out of me'.

Eventually my exhaustion got the better of me, and I fell into a restless sleep.

~^~

I opened my eyes suddenly, feeling wetness under my face. Jolting up, I took in my surroundings.

"I'm in the woods...?", I said quietly, "wha- how?"

"Don't freak out", a male voice said behind me.

I spun around to see the same weird guy from before, his mouth and eyes glowing yellow in a twisted smile. 'Seriously??'

"How did I get here?"

"Well, you're not *here*, not really. You're still in Toby's cabin.", his voice was calm but I knew better than to trust him.

"So, I'm dreaming again?"

"Yes, I don't know what it is about you, but I find it quite easy to connect with you in your dreams", he said smiling.

I didn't say anything, not really knowing what he meant. 'Is he... flirting?'.

He started to walk towards me, making me step back wearily.

"I don't really have much time, Y/N, I have things to do", he said, "but I wanted to ask you how you're feeling?"

'Well isn't this nice, a weird looking dude asking me how I feel after being kidnapped... Not to mention he seems to know that Toby guy', I thought to myself. I didn't trust him, even if I felt some sense of familiarity with him.

"As fine as one can be, I guess...", I said, trying to keep my voice calm.

"What about your mind...?", he said with a quizzical look.

I frowned. "I- uh... I don't know", I said honestly.

We were silent for a few seconds, which felt like forever. It was him who broke the silence once again.

"These woods have a... certain effect on mortals, Y/N, be careful. Trust Toby, if you start feeling a certain way... tell him. But don't trust anyone else, and I mean that, Y/N, no one." He said with a dark, knowing tone in his voice. I could see him tense up, thinking about something.

With that, I woke up panting once again.

'What the fuck is happening?? Who is this *dream dude* and why is he trying to help me? Is he though? Trying to help me...'

I stopped for a bit, thinking about that guy. 'Why does he feel familiar to me? Did I meet him before? Was he ever human? Because he definitely isn't now'.

Realizing how calm I was, and the coldness with which I was analyzing everything started to freak me out. I wondered if that's what he meant by *feeling a certain way*.

'Am I losing it?'