CHOKE IN TRAGEDY

3.

I'm dreaming.

I know I'm dreaming, because everything around me is twisted and scrambled. Everything is out of place. The white walls surrounding me are slowly caving in, making the space around me shrink. Wearily, I stand up, very aware of where I am and what is happening. This dream has been haunting my nights endlessly, and I know why. Lindsey has explained it to me countless times. It's a simple side effect of the medication, which is why I know that it's nothing to be worried about.
It's always the same tiny white room. The same warped objects I usually see are scattered irritably in the same places they always are. I feel the urge to pick them up, leave them in their rightful places. Of course, I can't. The dream never allows me. It places everything in the spots that make my fingers twitch and my heart ache because it's all so wrong. It's tormenting me, but I'm learning to control it.
The ending is what changes with every dream. Sometimes they will reacurr, similar to each other but still strangly out of place and different. Other times they will be completly new and almost interesting to explore, even if they are filled with graphic imagery and disturbing scenes. While I'm dreaming, none of it will bother me. All that I will be affected by are the tiny little things that are left for me to grow annoyed at. It's when I break the surface and wake up that it hits, leaving me terrifed and a sobbing wreck.
A white door blocks my path to another sector of the dream, which I open cautiously. This is where the ending starts to take place. It all depends on what I do now, it all comes down to me. I have full control over everything, but it's all exagerated. I do things I wish I could do in reality. "I hate this place," I grumble, closing my eyes with a heavy sigh. I'm stumbling forwards and I reach a bathroom.
I'm faced with a large mirror. It catches my full body, leaving me feeling exposed and vulnerable. My hair is dishelved, which surprsingly doesn't bother me as much as it should. However, what does bother me is the fact that my glasses are missing. Frowning, I move forwards as I notice the same thing I always notice in these dreams. Since I'm not numb with drugs, I can feel all of the small occurences that make me want to pull my hair out surrounding me, encouraging me to do it.
It's the thing that I'm thankful for not having in reality. Everyone in my family has hazel eyes. Dark, brooding hazel orbs. However, in this twisted version of the institution, I'm not the same. One of my eyes -my left eye - is perfectly normal, following genetics. My right eye though, is electric blue. It's always like this in my dreams, I don't know why. I've always tried my best to ignore it, but something inside of me is just screaming at me to fix it.
I guess I just snap this time because I can't take it any longer. I can't wake up from this nightmare, so I have to fix it. I have to fix myself. Beside me is a messy bowl of cereal, spilled out across the cabinet. Noticing there is a spoon next to it, I bite my lip. With a trembling hand, I pick it up then trail back into my bedroom. I find the scissors that I would never be allowed to own in reality, then return back to the large mirror and cringe at the sight of myself.
It stares at me, that terrible little mistake. That splash of color, the bright blue that stares at me hauntingly. I know I'm dreaming, so it doesn't hurt as I dig the spoon beneath my eye. I'm strangely calm as I ease it out, then leave it to hang next to my cheek. The optic nerve is intact until I snip it carefully with the scissors. I smile as the fluids leak down my face, dripping onto the blood stained floor. I clean up the wound, and push the dangling bits of flesh back into the empty hole, before marvelling at what I have done.

It's just a dream, so it doesn't matter.

xo

My eyes snap open, and I lift a shaking hand to my face. They're both still there, and I'm terrified that I had the ability to do something so disgusting to myself. "Woa..." I groan, blinking erratically as I sit up. Instantly, I can feel the groggyness of my medication working over me and the adrenaline is gone.
"Put these on," I look up, a cold sweat dribbling down my face as I see Gerard hovering over me. His eyes are darkened with make-up, and he's already dressed in a scruffy white shirt and torn skinny jeans that shouldn't be allowed for school. His tie is long, and hangs to his belt which is decorated with a silver bat buckle. His school blazer has patches sewn onto it, in a desperate attept to punk up his outfir and rebel. "C'mon, Mikes. We've only got ten minutes so hurry up,"
Nervously, I take the mixed bundle from his hands and pull myself into a sitting position. After putting my glasses on, I pull my shirt off. Gerard watches me, but I take no notice of him as I stand up to change my underwear. "Don't I have time for a shower?" I ask, feeling disgusting. My hair is matted with sweat and my skin is almost sticky. I'm still too disturbed from the dream to even care that my brother is watching me as I strip naked. He doesn't avert his eyes as I pull a fresh pair of boxers up my stick-like legs.
"No, I should have woken you up earlier," he says, biting his bottom lip.
After he makes me take six pills just like last night, I get fully dressed before walking over to the mirror. Relief washes over me as I see two framed hazel eyes stare at me. "You look good in that," I hear him say. I blink, not too aware of what he's talking about. I'm wearing a tight fitting white shirt, and a striped black and red tie hangs loosly from my neck. I'm surprised that I'm allowed to wear it. They never let me have belts or ties in the institution, but it is a part of the chool uniform policy.
"Thanks?" I turn around. He pulls me into a hug.
"You look perfect," he whispers, his voice sounding almost tearful. "I love you," his lips press against my cheek, and I feel my face burn. His hands are on my waist, and linger for maybe a second too long before he jitters backwards.
"Boys!" Mom is shouting down the steps. Gerard flinches as if he's done something wrong. "You're gonna be late!"
"C-Coming!" Gerard yells back, before taking my hand in his. "Let's go,"

Notes

should i carry on with this story?

xofeb