Borderline

Are you sure you’re awake now?

It’s raining.

            A colourful curse escapes my lips. I pull the pillow over my head in a desperate attempt to block the annoying sound of the rain colliding with my bedroom window. I roll my eyes so hard, I see green glowing figures floating in every direction. I start counting my heartbeats in another attempt to distract myself from the pouring rain outside. I stop counting when I get to 179 and not because sleep finally embraces me, but because of the sudden change in the atmosphere. The rhythmic sound of the falling raindrops is interrupted by a prolonged metallic sound which repeats itself every two minutes. I have no idea where it’s coming from.
            My anger is only growing as I throw my pillow on the other side of the bed and I lazily stand up in a sitting position to inspect the room. But I don’t see much. In the obscurity of the night, I can only make out the distorted shape of my bookshelves and desk, thanks to the dim light coming from the window. I turn to look at the wall in front of me, where the shadows of the tree branches are moving and stretching violently, almost forming a face in their frenzied dance.
            I sigh deeply, trying to remove the tension from my body, but I freeze in my spot when I notice that the air I’m exhaling is instantly turning into a dense fog. I don’t register the sudden drop in temperature until my whole body starts shaking uncontrollably. I feel fear consuming me and I wrap myself in my blanket like a protective cocoon. Then, I try to calm myself by using a breathing technique I learned in one of my therapy sessions, but to no avail. The metallic sound becomes more intense with each second that passes. I feel it in my bones as if its source would be inside of me. I cover my ears with my almost frozen hands, but the noise doesn’t stop. I can’t think. I can’t breathe. Tears flow down my cheeks like hot rivers. Exhausted, all I can do is whisper a silent prayer:
            “Stop! Please, stop!”
            I don’t even hear my own voice. The metallic vibrations annihilate it like it’s nothing and for a split second I feel ready to give up and let them consume me. But I don’t do it. I remember what my mother used to say whenever I was at an impasse, that as long as I keep going, I’ll be just fine. With a new found strength I start screaming. My lungs ache and I lose my breath for a moment, but this time my voice cuts through the metal like fire:
            “I said STOP!”
            I hesitantly uncover my ears, preparing for the worst. However, there’s only a grave like silence. The only thing I hear is my heavy breathing. Even the rain stopped, as if nature sensed my despair and offered me a moment of peace.
            Confused and still terrified, I decide that for now, I need a glass of cold water and then I will let my brain digest all of tonight’s bizarre events.

            I remove the blanket and slowly move towards the edge of the bed. My muscles are aching badly as a result of being tense for so long. Nonetheless, I manage to get out of bed and stand on my own two feet.
            It doesn’t take me much to realise that I’m covered in sweat and my pajamas are stuck to my body. It’s a rather unpleasant feeling so I know that before I go to the kitchen, I have to put on a new set of pajamas.
            Cursing again, I walk blindly through the darkness, trying to reach my closet. I find it and quickly get dressed and head for the kitchen.
            There, I try to be as silent as possible to not disturb my parents’ sleep. I fill a glass with water, drink it in a heart beat, but almost drop it when I see a shadow moving at the right end of the kitchen, where my room is. A chill runs through my spine, but I dismiss the whole situation, thinking it’s my tired mind playing tricks on me.

            I tip toe back to my room. As soon as I open the door, a putrid smell hits me so hard, I immediately start coughing. It smells like I imagine a swamp would smell like, mud and stale water. It’s really gross and I feel it crawling in my lungs and slowly but surely suffocating me.
            I somehow manage to catch my breath and I start breathing through my mouth, while I use my left hand to cover my nose. I go straight for the window and I try to open it with my free hand but it just won’t budge. Fear is making my blood run cold and I’m reminded of all the strange stuff that has happened this night and it’s still happening: the sinister sound, the coldness, the shadow, the smell; and now as I stifle a sob, I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the window.
            To my utter disbelief, I also see another figure next to mine. At first, I’m tempted to think someone is in the room with me. But this unknown face looking straight in my eyes is not a reflection. It seems as though it is inside the glass. Or he is. Because he looks like a man.
            I’m completely petrified, unable to move, or do anything else other than stare into his face, which looks like it came out of a horror movie. It is full of black scars intertwined in what seem like intricate symbols of some sort. There’s a huge grin plastered on his scarred face that holds the promise of malicious intents. But the most otherworldly, yet fascinating aspect about him is his slightly curled silver hair. It looks as if he bathed in silver dust and I might not be far from the truth, at least when I say he looks like he just took a bath. His hair is damp and a few drops of water hang in loosely in his silver locks.
            I feel myself going numb the more I look at him. Still, I cannot take my eyes off him. He finally stops smiling and I see his lips slightly moving as though he is getting ready to speak. Obviously, I don’t expect to actually hear his voice, but what comes after he opens his mouth is infinitely worse than his voice might have been.
            The metallic noise, hundreds of times more intense than before, encompasses the whole room and it pierces straight through my skull. My knees go weak and as I collapse on the floor, I feel my own being disintegrating. I scream until I taste blood in my mouth. The last thing I hear before everything goes black is: “I’ll see you sooner than you think”
            It makes no sense that when I open my eyes again I’m still very much alive. I’m in my classroom and my economics teacher is giving me an angry look and her left eye is twitching a bit. While some of my classmates start laughing loudly, including my good friend next to me, I can’t get it through my head that it was all a nightmare. One, it felt too real. Two, I have never fallen asleep at school, no matter how tired I was.
            I ignore both my classmates and the teacher and leave the classroom in a hurry to go to the bathroom. I really need to be alone right now to make sense of what happened and why I am so affected by this bad dream.
            Luckily for me, the bathroom is empty. I turn on the faucet and then splash some cold water on my face. I keep my eyes closed a few more seconds, relishing in the feeling of water on my skin and I start to feel better. But it doesn’t last long.
            Seems like my nightmare never ended, because as I open my eyes and look at the mirror above the sink, I notice the question written on it in perfect calligraphy. As soon as I finish reading, I feel a tap on my shoulder and dread fills my entire being.
            “Was it soon enough?”