8 - Nightmare or Vision?

                                    

                                          
Passing out from what could best be described as a mental breakdown didn't give poor Clara a free pass from the land of nightmares. By this point in time, her nightmares had been bad enough, but she wasn't prepared for the horrors her mind were concocting this time...
                          
Clara wondered if she would ever have any peace again.
                          
Soon enough, a scene began to form in her mind, though this one was incredibly blurry at first, almost fogged over. Then the pain kicked in. She felt herself being thrown against a solid wall, her head exploded with intense heat where she was hit. Pain exploded in my arm too. As her vision became less foggy, she managed to look down and see...
                          
Blood. So much blood, it coated her arm in a thin drying layer of the red liquid to the point where she couldn't tell what kind of injury she had. She tried moving her other arm to cover where she assumed the blood was coming from, but her wrists were suddenly yanked in front of her, causing even more pain in her bleeding arm. She could feel cold metal cutting into them.
                          
She looked up into the eyes of the Alton Point Slayer, the same eyes as her fathers, but they had a cold evil glare that pierced right through her. The stare alone made her feel extremely vulnerable. She tried to move her arms but the metal wasn't budging and pinched at her skin.
                          
The killer's facial features were shrouded in black with a hood covering their head. They moved away from her face and she finally saw my surroundings.
                          
Clara was in a dull room, lit by a single white light bulb hanging from the ceiling. The walls and floor were rotting away slowly and the few pieces of furniture left were torn, dirty and stained with dry blood splatters. It was the perfect hideout for a psycho like this one like it was taken straight from a horror film. Her eyes wandered to the center of the room and Clara could've sworn she stopped breathing.
                          
Clara was staring at herself. As insane as it seemed, there was no denying who it was that was sobbing in the center of the room. She was in a chair, hands restrained behind her back. The killer stood nearby, brandishing a large butcher knife proudly, coming closer to her. Clara came to the realization that if she was sitting across the room in that chair, then she was watching from someone else's point of view.
                          
"Don't touch her or I'll break your neck!" the person suddenly yelled, Clara now realizing that she could only see what this stranger saw, not control their movements.
                          
The yell had startled both the killer and the other Clara. There was silence for a few moments, during which time Clara could hear distant screaming.
                          
"Very protective of her, are we?" The killer asked in an unidentifiable voice, coming towards the unknown person.
                          
"You deserve to burn in hell" They spat, gritting their teeth in anger. The killer scowled and grabbed the person's throat so firmly that Clara could actually feel how tight the grip was.
                          
"You know your attitude is going to get you killed," The killer said, almost in a playful way, secretly feeding off of the person's pain and suffering.
                          
"Then I'll go down with attitude too, back-chatting as always. Go ahead, kill me now and get it over and done with" the person hissed. "Are you waiting for a personal invitation or something?" Clara noted that they sounded quite calm, even in the face of a cold-blooded killer.
                          
"Sorry sweetheart. I'm known for my brutal killings. And don't think you or Clara are going to be exceptions" The killer whispers in the person's ear.
                          
Clara watched as the killer pulled out a small knife with their free hand, changing their grip on the person's neck with the other. A moment later, she could feel a deep mark being carved into the person's skin, right above their collarbone. The person's breathing grew quicker and more ragged, but they didn't make another sound.
                          
The killer cut down through the fabric of the person's shirt, tearing it open and beginning to carve something else into the flesh over their ribs. Clara couldn't make out what it was due to the blinding pain. If she could scream, she would have a long time ago, but whoever this was just hissed and spat in the killer's face.
                          
The killer grew extremely mad, their eyes flashing almost animal-like "You little shit!" They snarled, plunging the knife deep into the person's bleeding shoulder. The person finally gave in and dropped their tough front, letting out a cry of pain. Clara could feel a couple of hot tears running down their cheeks.
                          
"I guess you're not made of stone after all" the killer laughed, slashing the person across the face harshly, knife still in hand, leaving a new wound.
                          
The Alton Point Slayer got up and began to cackle in a twisted, truly insane way before moving back to Other Clara, who was now doubled over as much as she could be, sobbing uncontrollably.
                          
Clara watched as the killer grabbed the large knife again and pull Other Clara's head back by her hair before stabbing her in the chest. Clara watched herself being stabbed over and over again, blood spraying out of each wound. Other Clara grew silent and her eyes became vacant by the third time stab, but the killer wasn't satisfied. They had stabbed Other Clara a dozen times before they even slowed, the crazy glint in their eye clearly showing they still wanting more.
                          
The person's vision became foggy again as the killer picked up a cleaver from a nearby table, taking aim and throwing it at Other Clara's throat. The person shut their eyes tightly and managed to choke down a sob. Clara heard a thud and could tell what it was without needing to see it. She was horrified.
                          
There was something else wrong too, she noticed, as she could feel the person losing consciousness. It wasn't just the tears anymore that blurred their sight, they were quickly bleeding to death.
                          
Clara screamed, even though the person stayed silent. They opened their eyes again but their vision was too dark to make out anything now. The person's head slumped down onto their chest, their body finally shutting down after all the agony they had endured. Everything was black in Clara's mind now, and for a moment she suspected she had died as well.
                          
A thought occurred to her. What if this nightmare was her future, just like the other ones. Sure, reality could be changed – so could nightmares if one tried hard enough - but it didn't look like she would stand a chance. This was the end of the line, and seemingly, not just for her.
                          
She had let others suffer at the hands of this madman. Whoever these people were, whether it was her friends, her family or just other poor souls, Clara felt like their blood was on her hands. The one thing she wanted, to keep everyone she loved safe, was now an impossible task. There would be causalities, she was so sure now.
                          
Their doom was inevitable, and everything would end tomorrow night.