The past 24 hours seemed like a walking nightmare to poor Jonathan. He had woke up from the dream at three o’clock in the morning on a Tuesday. The nightmare had been much the same as before, with just one non too subtle difference… Ravyns killer had appeared for the first time. A pale man with bag leadened eyes and a lanky frame. Although Jonathan remembered the man to have shaggy black hair, from the many news articles he had been obsessing over, Jaxson Hardway now appeared bald in his dream.
The tree cracks with the volume of near deafening thunder. Ravyn waves frantically as the muscular man made of shadow drags her towards the shambling house, white eyes locked upon Jonathan’s. Something happens and he is no longer in his room looking at the painting, but instead he stands next to the roaring tree. His feet drag slowly through the dead wheat, pulling him, seemingly against his will, towards the half open door. His hand reaches out and he tries to quietly pull the portal open but it screams creaking protests the whole way. He’s standing inside a small room. A large television with a small screen sits in front of a shabby orange and green couch. Pictures hang on the wall of a young Ravyn with a heartbreaking hollow smile. He hears a scream from up the stairs on his right and he moves up them so fast he almost misses the trip. Jonathan. He hears his name whispered followed by another fabric rending scream, seeming to come from behind the black door now in front of him. His shaking hand moves out and slowly turns the golden nob.
An adult Ravyn lies bound and screaming upon the bed in the center of the room. Red satin sheets compliment the pool of blood that has collected in between her legs, staining the white nightgown she wears. The man of shadow stands in the opposite corner from the door with his massive hand clamped over the poor child’s face. His other hand holds a familiar revolver pointed towards the open door of the closet. Jonathan takes a step into the room so that he can see what the gun is focused on. Jaxson Hardway lies shackled to the floor with what seems like well over a dozen chains. His head is bald and his eyes bloodshot. A look of sheer terror is written plainly across his face and is understandable considering the stitches that hold his mouth shut. The shadow throws the broken girl upon the bed next to the screaming shattered woman and quickly crosses the room to stand next to Jonathan. He takes his wrist and pulls him to the closet. His hand holding the pistol moves so fast it seems a silver blur and Jaxson’s forehead begins to bleed. His white eyes turn to Jonathan’s and he slowly whispers his name. Jonathan reaches out and takes the pistol. He puts it against the pitiful monster’s head. The child cries. The woman ceases to scream and instead lets out a chilling laughter. “DO IT!” she screams maniacally. He pulls the trigger.
He woke up at three o’clock in the morning on a Tuesday. He died at four o’clock in the morning on a Wednesday.