Remember what it was like to come home from summer camp? Sure, it's great to be home and to see your family and friends again, but you're not used to it. Getting back into the routine is somewhat difficult, just because it's not what you're used to. You're used to waking up with your friends and going to do the days activities. Summer camp is only really about 3 months at most, try being there for 5 years. 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. It starts to become dull. Remember when you didn't eat dinner because mom didn't make what you liked? Now imagine praying for that meal just so you enough calories to survive another day. Remember how scared you were when you broke your ankle at baseball practice? Remember the pain? Now imagine being chased down by a group of men, and guess what? The only thing they want to accomplish is to "break your ankle".
That's war.
Remember how upset you were when you found out Tommy moved away? Now imagine if instead of moving away, Tommy stepped on an IED. Now you live the rest of your life thinking about how you could of prevented it. No matter what you do, it still seems like your fault. Remember how bad you felt after you beat up that kid? Now imagine how you would feel if you shot and killed him.
That's been my life for the past 5 years.
I woke with the taste of vomit burning in my throat, but for the most part a morning unlike many other ones. The room of my studio apartment reeked of cigarettes and vomit. Even the walls have turned a light shade of brown from their normal white color due to the incessant smoke. I winced in pain which made me look over to my left arm. The belt on it had caused a blister to form on my bicep, which apparently burst and caused me to bleed into the sheets of my bed. I pulled the old, dull syringe from my arm and tossed it to the bedside table. A stream of blood from my arm stained the sheets further, already dark red with dried blood. I took off my shirt, turned it inside out and wiped my face with the non puke covered inside, which I then threw into the pile of other filthy clothing that are in dire need of washing. It was a rainy day from the sight through my dirty plastic blinds, all the moisture made my apartment warm and humid adding to the already sickly atmosphere. My plan was to get up, scrape together some change and take a trip down to the corner store and pick up a bottle of cheap vodka. I struggled to a sitting position, and leaned my legs off the bed, my feet touching the strained carpet below. I ran my fingers through my overgrown, greasy hair and scratched at my stubble. I looked over at the beat up bedside table and reached for the pack of cigarettes resting next to the dirty needle I just withdrew from my arm. I withdrew a single cig from the package and rested it between my lips while searching for a light. I reached into my pants pocket which revealed an old zippo that I got during my first tour in the middle east. I sparked up the cig and struggled to my feet. I proceeded to walk towards the door and don my boots. I've only worn boots since I've gotten back from service. Comfortable and durable. I put on my last clean shirt I had and my BDU jacket. It was really the last quality jacket I had and it was cold out. I opened up the multiple locks on my door and started my way downstairs to the corner store. The dull lit hallway of my apartment complex was as depressing as the situation I was in. The more I walked on the shitty carpeted floor and the closer I got to the busy city street the more of the shitty city odor I could smell and I knew I was getting closer to my destination. I turned and walked down the only flight of I needed to as I lived on the second floor. I got to the bottom of the flight and turned to walk out into the already busy street. I walked into the store right below my building, paid for my bottle and left.
As I got back into my room, I started to feel the oncoming sensation of what I knew was to come. Right when I got into my room, I immediately dropped to the floor. As I barely managed to stagger to my feet, an intense rush of darkness consumed my vision and intense feeling of immobilizing fear cascaded by conscience. All I could see was dark emptiness, as if the world was wiped from all forms of life, save for the approaching equine-esque figure, it has talked to me before too, it calls my name. It appeared as if it were made from light, a very vivid and harsh contrast from the dismal atmosphere. The figure was closing quickly and the overwhelming sensation of danger flooded throughout my entire being. Escape was no option, there was nowhere to run, and it was hard enough to even move due to the paralyzing fear. The closed the figure gets to its target, the louder the static becomes. The sound is deafening as the figure approached me slowly and methodically. Static begins to envelop my vision as it closes the distance between us and I can feel myself coming out of the hallucination with the white noise screaming into my ears.
I shot immediately into the fetal position, tears streaming down my face as I'm still overrun with the intense sense of danger. This was a common occurrence since about a few months ago. It started with the slight auditory / visual hallucinations which I thought was a side effect of my raging alcoholism and drug abuse, but it continued on eventually to the full blown, incapacitating hallucinations. Although this time was different, the noise had kept screaming to the degree where all other noise was completely drowned out, even my screaming was to no avail. The sound was increasing in volume every second, the intense pain coming from inside my ears was severe. This fucking white horse haunted my nightmares, my every fucking day. I needed to escape.
I struggled to my knees, the screaming wouldn't stop. I laboured up to my feet and fell towards the dresser I was approaching. I opened the top drawer revealing a Beretta M9. I stared for a while before gripping the black grip of the weapon and bringing it to my head, still the deafening sound whaling into my ears. I raised the weapon to head and cursed. The more I squeezed the trigger, the more I screamed.
*Click*
I looked at the weapon. No magazine. My train of thought was completely destroyed as a white light exploded into the room, so bright it was near blinding. Through the light I could see something. Something that made my stomach sink into my crotch. It was the figure, the entity that has haunted me and made my life hell through the past months. My vision tunneled, and I began to escape into unconsciousness.
I woke up in what appeared to be a hospital room, attached to an EKG and all. I'd assume I just passed out because of the hallucinations, but the hospital is gonna be in for a surprise when they find out I have no medical insurance. While lost in thought, I heard the door open. Again, my stomach sank. The creature spoke.
"My name is Celestia, and let me explain."
