FicWad

D jerks upright in a cold sweat for the first time in what feels like eons.

It was cold, so cold, and so dark and there was something behind him, something chasing - pursuing -

He was unused to nightmares. He rarely had them.

He fled through the woods, calling for help, but there's no response, there's no reply, he's alone he's alone he's alone -

He so rarely dreamt at all. Perhaps that made it more terrifying.

Laughter behind him. Hoarse, breathless laughter, because whoever it was knew they would catch him, knew he couldn't get away -

D tried to rise from the bed, but his legs were shaky and he couldn't do it.

It was as though his world had betrayed him - something crept around his ankle, snagging him, tripping him -

He settled against the headboard again, staring at nothing, not thinking at all.

He looked up, seeing only blue eyes dark with hate and a flash of silver -

He doesn't go back to sleep.

The next dream he has is the same.

And the knife is sharper and the eyes are darker, until...