My head is torturing me. I keep having this very vivid image in my head. This dream that haunts me even when I’m awake. It gives me one hell of a motherfucking headache also.
I walk into the house. It doesn’t matter how the dream begins, I always end up in the house. My house. I’m immediately greeted by the smell of blood. I think it has a smell. Especially blood associated with death. Something you never forget.
The smell of that blood is imprinted in my mind. The blood I was covered in when he was killed. I think I got some in my mouth. But, I wasn’t even screaming. I wasn’t even crying. Maybe I tasted it on my lips.
The entire house is covered in blood. There is almost like a dam of blood on the floor. Blood splattered all over the walls. Furniture broken and turned upside down indicative of some struggle or fight.
I walk into the kitchen, where I find my family. Bits and pieces of them scattered everywhere. Looks like the human remains I’ve seen in the Dissecting Hall, only these are fresh and covered in blood. They are all chopped up in pieces and all over the place. A leg here, an arm there, a head over there, and there, and there….
My parents. My sisters. All of them, down to my sweet five year old sister. All dead. All slaughtered like animals. Butchered and chopped up in pieces. Then, I feel a blow to the back of my head, and I finally come to…
It has been this dream/daydream/nightmare for the past three days.
I’m drowing with guilt. I can hardly look my family in the eye. I pretend nothing is wrong. I’ve become really good at pretending. I don’t want to burden them like this. I’ve already put them through enough. They never fail to remind me of it. How everything was my fault. How he died because of me. How I should stick it out, study hard so I can rectify everything. After all, he died because of me. It was my fault.
That’s why I can’t even off myself. They have already put in too much in me, in helping me establish a career. Just one more year. One more year and I will have my degree. I have to endure all of this until I’m finally able to get them out of this situation. That will take years. Years of thought like these occupying my head.
But then again, I deserve to suffer like. This is my punishment for what I did. My punishment. This is punishment I deserve. I deserve to be tortured like this. I did this. I put my family through this. I got him killed.
I really don’t know what I did to them. I wish I could an answer. What did I do to them that was so horrible that they hated me this much?
They should have just killed me. I should have allowed them to kill me. He would still be here. I wouldn’t be tormented so much. Forced to stay here even when I don’t want to. Trapped like this. I’d be gone. At peace. Dead.
Why didn’t I just die?
Now…
All I see is blood…
2 comments
You didn’t kill him. Situations led to it, and you couldn’t do anything about it, but if it was the other way around you would have tried to protect him like he tried to protect you. It’s good that you’re trying to help your family, and hopefully they will start blaming you eventually, because you didn’t intend to harm him, and you certainly didn’t want for him to be harmed as well. The guilty people are the ones who actually did it. That said, i’m sorry that you have to continue to go through this. I do hope that in time you can forgive yourself and find a way to delete those images, even if in reality there’s nothing to be forgiven about.
It really doesn’t feel that way. It looks like everyone is my family is somehow finding a way to move from this but me. Dreams they have about him are somewhat beautiful. I’m tormented every single night. They wonder why I sometimes never want to sleep. It gets so bad, mostly at night that I can sleep only during the day.
I’ve never thought about forgiving myself. For now, I feel I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve to be forgiven. I deserve to suffer like this.