Daymare

She felt her head begin to pound more steadily, the ringing was fading into the echoing voices. 11

Sarah hated it when her fits began. 22

Fits. That’s what the doctor told her to call them. Fits... not like convulsions. She never seized. In fact she just kept on living. They we're more like moments. Moments where she was lost in herself. She remembered everything that happened there, where ever she went. But she could never remember what happened in this world. Till she came out of her fit, and was told what she did and how long it lasted. Some times only a few minutes and others lasted for days. The longest? Well that was the one that put her in here over two years ago. The doctors say she only has to stay till she had her fits under control. By their definition that meant she new when the fits were coming, could take action against them, and was willing to keep record for their study. Sarah had done everything they asked. She could tell when they came by the ringing in her ears and pounding in her head. She would take the med that was designed to stop them and write down the time the fit began, and when she came out she always wrote down everything she remembered in the notebook they provided and the time she came out. Sarah and every doctor there new she was well enough to rejoin society. They new she should have never been sent to them when the doctors could have helped out in the world. No she was still there because it was easier for her father to live his life spending money and sleeping with hookers if she was locked away with no need for him to worry. He visited once a month to see how she was, pay the bill, and prove to something in himself that she still wasn't well. Then he was off again. 33

The voices grew louder screaming, yelling, laughing. Sarah closed her eyes and entered what the doctors called a fit. But what she called a Daymare.44

Chapter 155

"Welcome back my pretty." the voice hissed as I felt a tug in my hair. "I've been waiting for you to return to me." 66

I felt the hair on my scalp seem to be pulled from my head in burning pull I was swiftly being pulled from the ground. The grip loosened but as I opened my eyes I was staring into the face of what pulled me up. Eric my 'prince' in these fits. Green tinted skin, tall, muscled, rotten teeth with one missing right in front, a greasy mess of hair similar to what superman's would probably look like in the same condition. He could be good looking, but the surface was just to unappealing. 77

"Now where have you been too?" he yanked my arm hard to turn me into him "You don't make me happy leaving. Your mine after all" his arms gripping across me was some form of comfort. When I'm here, nothing is safe. But this is as close as I get. 88

"You know I can't control it Eric. I fade you've seen it." I heard the laughing in my ear. 99

"If you try to stay you will!" again his voice hissing with a laugh. 1010

I turned away, hoping not make him mad. Last time I did he forced me out. The dome shaped room was always dark. The only light from the aged fireplace or old river rock, dirt floors and mud walls. It seemed like the igloos I built when I was little with mom and dad. Hollowed mounds of snow. Only this was hollowed mud. The small door the same rust red with the small window to the outside world. A green moss growing around the door hole as nature took over what was hers. He'd gotten a new bed. Larger then his old platform and thin mattress stuffed with grass, this one seemed nice with a blanket and pillow. Other then that bare a small table and two miss match chairs, a wash basin in the corner. I looked at him and turned to sit on the edge of the bed. 1111

He had the rage building up in his eyes, having me turn from him. But sitting on the bed worked as a grim smile crossed his lips. "That’s a good girl," he approached me gently like he glided on air "I'll only have to punish you for leaving."1212

"I've told you I can't control it!" I snapped.1313

Like lighening his hand was on my throat squeezing. "Yes," his hiss was like murder "you can." His hand slowly released but I could feel the bruising begin. He let go. "COME" the order was direct. I followed out the rust door. His pace was fast and demanding. I jogged at points to keep up. We followed a path into the woods. Dark, haunting, dead they were the last place I wanted to go. Though it was very much daylight the thickness of the branches made it seem like twilight, following a well worn path in-between trees they approached a fence, not old or aged like the dome house that had grown over becoming earth rather then altered world. No this fence was new, fresh. That’s when the sound echoed through the trees. 14