[DISCLAIMER: This passage contains references and implications of the following: physical/emotional abuse, gruesome imagery, abandonment.
There may be other triggers depending on the reader. Reader's discretion advised.]
I wake to pale moonlight peeking through the curtains illuminating so dearly all the edges which surround us. The body beside me lay a memory as I run to the bathroom desperate to rid my aching body of the cold sweat encasing it. Warmth sprays harshly against my pale skin, washing it away until there is none to hold my hair in place. It flies around my legs silently and disappears down the drain. My new peripheral catches legs moving on my left. The awkwardly placed single-pane window above the bathtub is now a three-pane mess of spiders and unrecognizable bugs crawling through the cracks and reaching out for me. Tears crashing conquer the sound of the showerhead's work as I fumble with the glass, unable to pull them shut. I slip as they finally budge. I land on the rug of our living room with a bang that's mocked by the roars of heavy clouds raging above. Trickles of rainwater trickle through the seams of the windows. From the living room, the kitchen, the bathroom and bedroom.
Then came the screams.
Like heavy metal on a hundred speakers, the terrible howls shake the little house. The thrashing of water breaks through the windows welcoming in water from every direction, coming through the door and knocking that down too. I swim for the bedroom; the moon is more generous with the curtains blown away. But I may have lived softer not knowing that the man who laid beside me since morning seemed to have never been there at all. The bed sits bare awaiting its time to bathe. But maybe that is not life at all; I can't even touch it.
Then the screams stopped.
The water has risen nearly to the ceiling. Paint peels from the walls, sticking to me and floating around with other little home goods turned into debris playing like fish. The current pushes too hard for hope of escape and the walls start to give but in no time for a life to care. The Window Critters emerge from the bathroom, mutated into gnarly Flesh Beasts. A thousand bulging eyes lock on me, the legs stretch out in my direction and their muscles contract. The water begins to steam around them, boiling my little ocean ever slowly.
I attempt to yell again.
My lungs burst.
Everything is red with agony and the Flesh Beasts have me now. They grab at me with vicious claws, pulling my naked muscle to expose my bone then tearing those out too. Bits of me float around painting the water pink.
Thunder returns softly. A low rumble. My eyes flash open and I wake to the soft glow of the moon through the curtains. It illuminates the folds under the blanket beside me. I turn to find the body of my lover softly singing the growls of delightful rest. With a sigh I almost smile then return to sleep; my pillow a damp memory of a world best left dying and lonely.