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[aplaceformyshortstories]

Story #1

Title:Tangled Strings

Genre:Psychological Horror

TW:Abusive Relationship, mindfuck, emotional abuse, physical abuse,implied self-harm, isolation, twisted memories, toxic codependency, character death

Why is the world so dark? Why is it so cold? And why does everything hurt?

How long have I been here? Why am I chained up? What did I do wrong?

Am I alone? Have I been forgotten? Can someone please, please, HELP ME?

-

Every night, it’s the same nightmare. I’ve been locked away, chained up in some dark, dark room. I never know how long I’ve been there, or what led to my situation in the first place. All I know is what I feel. Trapped. Alone. Hurt.

It haunts me, even after I’ve woken up. My breathing is still heavy, and if I press my face into my pillow, it’s sure to be damp. I’ve been crying. Maybe I still am? I can’t tell if the wetness on my face is from tears already spilled, for if they’ve never stopped in the first place.

And then you’re here. You’ve always been here, but until this point, I’d been too busy drowning in my pain to realize it. But you’re here. My restless sleep must have woken you up.

“It’s alright,” you whisper, wrapping your arms around me and pulling me into your side, “You’re safe.”

Of course I am. It was just a nightmare, after all, and I had you now. To hold me, love me, and make me feel safe. And though, if push, I would’ve sworn I’d stay up the rest of the night, the comforting feeling of your arms around me was eventually enough to lull me back into sleep.

-

You’re here. Why are you here? DON’T TOUCH ME!

I’m sorry. I’m sorry. You’re right. I deserve this. I don’t get to yell.

Please don’t go. I don’t want to be alone anymore. Please.

-

When I wake up this time, I’m alone. Bright sunlight is streaming through the window, and when I roll over, I can still feel a slight warmth on your side of the bed. I don’t have time to sulk. To process my dream.

Someone was there. That had never happened before. I’d been unable to see them, but I had felt them. Along with a new, stronger emotion. hat nightmare, beyond the fear that normally accompanied it, had an overarching feeling of guilt.

Maybe I would talk to you about it. I should talk to you about it. Holding onto these things myself would only hurt me in the long and run. And, that nightmare, and waking up with you gone, had left me feeling incredibly alone.

I didn’t like it. It hurt.

I needed to find you.

My first thought was the kitchen, obviously. Maybe you were just making breakfast. But once I’d walked downstairs from our room and to the kitchen, it had been empty. The same result had been achieved by checking in the living room, your office, and even when I went into the backyard.

When I looked out the front window, both of our cars wereI still in the driveway. That meant you had to be home somewhere. I called your name a few times, but received no answer.

Was this just another nightmare? Had my mind given up on torturing me in that cold, dark, lonely room, and had instead decided to make me believe you were gone? Could it be that I was simply still sleeping?

My mind seemed more clear than any dream I’d remembered having before. But the fear from the constant nightmares had caused me to question my situation.

Where were you?

I’m always safe, when I have you with me.

I needed you.

I don’t want to be alone.

I decided to head back up to our room. If this really was a nightmare, there seemed no clue that it would end soon. And if this was real, then maybe taking a moment to regroup might allow me to calm down. You were probably fine. I just need to calm down.

-

As I walk into the room, the floor underneath me seems to change. It’s stone-cold, and with my first step, a shock of icy fear erupts through me, and I freeze. Wasn’t our floor carpet? Even if it wasn’t, there was no way it was made of stone.

And why was it so dark in here? Hadn’t you left the curtains open? Hadn’t I woken up to sunlight pouring in?

Maybe I am really still dreaming.

I force myself to move, trying to get back out of the room. But I stumble, at least, I think I stumble. Maybe I was pushed? But no, no one else is here. Just me.

I feel myself hit the ground and-

-

You pushed me. I’m bleeding. Why do you hate me so much?

You keep telling me I deserve this. This is my fault. I make you do this.

But you don’t have to. You could let me go. You could kill me.

I don’t want to be alone, but when you’re here, everything always hurts worse.

-

“Come back to me.”

I hear the demand, feel your arms around me. When did you get here? Why are you holding me? I raised my hand to my forehead as it bloomed with unknown pain. I feel blood.

Did I fall?

“You tripped,” you say, “I found you passed out on the floor and bleeding.”

For some reason, I can’t speak, I can’t respond to you. But the fear I hear in your voice is so real. Even as I can feel the blood dripping down from my head, all I want to do is comfort you. “It was just a fall,” I want to say, “I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m sorry.”

Your presence makes me feel safe. It is unacceptable that my pain would cause you distress. You don’t deserve this. You’re so good. You are safety, and love, and home.

I know I deserve this pain. You should know it too, then maybe you wouldn’t worry.

I deserve it.

In a second, with that thought, the world seems to shift again. I can barely keep my eyes open through the pain. But, when I manage to look up at you, I can’t see your face.

My heart begins to race as I notice I can’t feel your touch, either.

Are you even here?

Did you wake me up?

Why can’t feel you?

Come back.

Please, come back. I don’t want to be alone.

-

Alone. Alone. Alone.

It’s so dark. So cold. You’ve forgotten me again.

I know I don’t deserve you. I’ve hurt you so much. This is only fair.

How did I hurt you? I don’t remember.

It doesn’t matter. All that matters is what you’ve taught me, and the pain I feel.

You taught me that I deserve this.

-

It’s movie night. You’d picked some comedy you’d seen a million times, and I hadn’t argued, of course. We had a system, and it was your turn. Besides, I had the biggest headache, and would most likely fall asleep soon after the movie started.

The migraine had come out of nowhere. I could barely even look at the TV, the bright light making me feel like someone was driving a stake through my head.

Luckily, you didn’t take too long to return. You carried a big red bowl of popcorn, and I smiled at the knowledge that there would be M&Ms scattered throughout the movie snack. It was one of your favorites, something I’d never tried until I met you. I’d loved it, of course, and it had become a staple of our movie nights.

I cuddled up next to you and reached into the bowl to grab my own handful. Popping it into my mouth and chewing just louder than normal, trying to playfully annoy you. Sadly, you didn’t rise to the bait. Just rolled your eyes. I grinned, and ate a little more of the popcorn.

You’d cooked it just a little too long. The flavor was ever-so-slightly burned. I didn’t mind though, I was just grateful for the effort you’d put in. It wasn’t at all inedible, and I wasn’t about to complain. We only had stove top popcorn, and I’d almost burned down the house on multiple occasions. I didn’t exactly have the right to comment on your efforts.

“You weren’t going to say anything?” you asked, after having your own first bite. I looked at you, confused. Why would I have said anything? That would have been incredibly rude. And why did you sound so..angry?

It was just popcorn, after all.

“What, did you think I didn’t care enough to fix my mistakes?”

-

Am I asleep, or am I awake?

I don’t know anymore. This feels real.

These chains are real. The dried blood on my head is real.

But everything else feels real, too.

The love, the safety, the popcorn. You holding me.

When was the last time I was held?

-

“Why do you stay with me?” you ask, your head in my lap, looking up at me.

We’re outside, in the garden. For once, the weather is enjoyable enough for us to enjoy being outside. We’d had a picnic, the leftovers still scattered around us. We were too comfortable to take them back inside yet.

Ants would probably come soon, but right now, neither of us could find the energy to care. Why ruin such a good moment?

I think about your questions. There’s so many ways I could answer it, of course. And I recognize the tone in your voice. However you might try to hide the fact, after knowing you for as long as I have, I know you deeply care about how I answer it.

This is a test. I understand. You’ve been hurt by so many people. I’m supposed to be the one that was finally safe for you. I was supposed to be the one who saw all of your hurt, and stayed with you anyway. Sometimes you just needed the reminder that I really did love you. You couldn’t always believe it. I understood, and had learned to recognize those times.

“I’m broken,” you said, before I could answer, and there was that familiar self-degrading tone, “You deserve better,maybe you should just leave me. “

You did this too, a lot. I’d need both hands to count how many times you’d tried to tell me that I would be better off if we weren’t together. And then I’d convince you that wasn’t the case. How could I be better off without you? You were my person, my home. I needed you.

-

You’re taking the chains off.

This is new. What’re you going to do to me now?

What new punishment?

Yes, my hands are bleeding.Why do you care?

I deserve this, right?

I’m a monster.

You’ve done much worse than this to teach me that.

I’d think you’d be happy I was learning my lesson.

-

Why are we on the floor? Hadn’t we just been in the garden? Or..hadn’t I been in that nightmare dark?

My head was still bleeding.

“I think you have a concussion,” You say, and through blurry vision I can just barely make out your face, “You keep passing out. I need you to stay awake.”

You help pull me to my feet, and I sway, unsteady on my feet.

I need to stay awake. You need me to stay awake.

But I’m so tired. When did I get so tired? You wrap an arm around my waist to support me, and I lean into you. My head doing its best to lay on your shoulder, and my eyes keep trying to close.

I’m so tired. Everything hurts. I could just..sleep.

But then you’re shaking me. Yelling at me to stay awake. That it was too dangerous to fall asleep

I don’t think you’ve ever yelled at me before.

I want to give you what you want, I want to stay awake.

But I’m just so tired.

-

You’re shaking me. Why are you shaking me?

Everything hurts. Just leave me alone.

I can’t take any more pain.

I think-I think I’m dying.

You’re sorry? Why are you sorry?

I deserve this.

It was always going to end like this,wasn’t it?

I hurt you too much.

You had to hurt me, too.

It’s okay. I understand.

You made me understand.

But I can’t do it anymore. I can’t be here.

I’m so cold.

You took the chains off, but everything still hurts so much,

Even free, I can barely move.

Maybe I was right. Maybe this is just a nightmare.

Maybe I’ll wake up, and we’ll be together.

And I won’t be a monster.

Maybe I won’t ruin it.

I won’t hurt you.

We could be safe.

We would feel loved.

We would be each other’s home.

-

“You’re going to be the death of me,” you said, with a laugh that reminded me of the sun. So warm, so lovely. It was one of my favorite things about you, that laugh. Your tone was playful, but it pulled at some string in my heart. Something about it was…wrong. But I didn’t want to say anything. We’d just started dating after all. I didn’t want to seem overly critical about something that was obviously just a joke.

You threw an arm around my shoulder, and I leaned in. You kissed the side of my head and I blushed.

“You’re adorable,” you said, “It’s too much to handle!” you were laughing again, and like it was contagious, I started laughing too. I didn’t get the joke, and I was embarrassed from having so easily been turned into a blushing mess. But if you were laughing, I couldn’t help myself. I laughed too.

It had always been like, even before we’d dated. If you were happy, I would be happy,too. When you were sad, or hurting, I would be too. That’s how we worked.

We’d already decided we were each other’s match. We were going to last, no matter what anyone else might have said.

Maybe you’re right. Maybe I would be the death of you, and you the death of me.

We’d always been so tangled together, it just made sense.

Hah.

It really was funny, wasn’t it?