INDY
I woke up choking on air, my body jerking upright like something had ripped me out of the dream by force. My sheets were tangled around my legs like they had tried to trap me in place. My father’s face was still burned into my mind; my grandfather’s voice still echoed in my ears.
I had been getting the same dreams, or might I say, nightmares, multiple times a day. I was already living in a nightmare itself, so it felt like I was being tortured alive.
“Just kill me,” I whispered into the dark. My voice cracked. “Life won’t even let me rest.”
I dragged a hand down my face, fingers pressing into my eyes until I saw faint sparks of light.
“f**k whoever wrote this,” I muttered bitterly.
It was an ironic statement because I was the one who wrote it all.
However, it was absurd. It
