Scrap City: Duel Days

[King-Clod]

You wake up with a jolt. You’re hyperventilating, drenched in sweat. Your vision is all out of focus.

Frick.

You squeeze your eyes shut and press your palms against your forehead. You try to concentrate on slowing your breathing. 

It’s alright. You’re alright. It was only a nightmare. You deal with those all the time. Usually better than you are right now, you’d add. 

You slowly open your eyes.

Get it together. 

You pull the blanket and sheets off of yourself. You’re overheated enough as it is.

This nightmare was different from the usual, though. Same plot, same awful sinking feeling, sure, but the meat of it was all wrong. The perspective? The monologue? The separation from your body? The colorless, endless, hopeless void the dream took place in? It was eerily similar to your usual, but ever so, ever so slightly different. Which was almost more terrifying than the dream itself.

You sit up.

Was it about moving? Was it because this was your first night away from home in a while? Big changes can take a bit to adjust to, and while you were never one to get homesick, it wouldn’t be too out of line to have a bad dream because of it. Yeah. That could be it. You aren’t…
You aren’t really sure sure what else it could be.

You grab your phone off of the side table next to your bed. The time at the top reads 12:00 PM, and you have a few unread texts from your mom. 

{What do you do next?}