#I've decided Imayo has a version of the Echo

[thefreelanceangel]

Nightmares came often, the only visitors Imayo's bed ever saw, but not so often that she feared them upon closing her eyes.

Oh, some did indeed end a night prematurely, bringing her from a sound sleep by providing the bright coppery taste of fear. Others left her curled on the futon, knees pressed to her chest, as she fought her way free of the despair they'd laid over her.

Loneliness, she understood, lived with from breath to breath. Despair she fought often, holding it at arm's length through sheer force of will. Fear and terror followed her, hand in hand, throughout much of her life.

...these dreams, however...

Pain.

Heat.

Distant screams mingling with the wet tearing of living flesh ripped open. Within her, only agony.

Despair.

Pain.

Pain.

Pain.

Pain.

She knew these emotions, knew pain. Never in her life had she not understood how to manage these, to face them. And yet... She felt them tearing her apart, pain shredding flesh, not just heart and soul.

PAIN.

It split her, pieces falling away, and she clawed the robe from her body, discarding it in pieces. One foot came down, shattering the mask she'd worn so happily, and she lunged.

Skin split, shreds falling away. Skull split, pieces splattering across the cracked stones.

Without thought, she reached for the first thing that moved.

It squirmed.

She squeezed.

It made noise.

She squeezed harder.

Heat blazed around her as stone cracked and fell.

And when she consumed the warm, limp thing in her grasp, the pain faded into all-consuming hunger.