He stared at the glistening water for only a fleeting moment before embracing it. The vehicle impacted the lake with such force that the windshield shattered, scattering glass among the oncoming wave of water. He hadn’t lost consciousness yet, his veins still flooding with adrenaline. He attempted to make sense of this surreal situation, his head racing. How did I get here? He thought to himself. Why is this happening? He desperately struggled to escape the steel deathtrap, but he was hindered. His arms and legs were firmly taped to the car seat and his foot was tied down to the gas pedal with a tightly woven piece of rope. As the SUV slowly sank to the bottom of the black abyss, the impaling bright light of the full moon slowly dissipated. With each passing second he found the need to breathe evermore intense. Inevitably, his body made a futile gasp for air, but all it received was water. As the liquid filled his lungs, an image flashed through his mind—a face. Her face. She had dark, auburn hair that flowed like warm honey, accompanied by a pair of mischievous green eyes that stared straight into the deepest chasms of your mind. However, the feature that stood out the most to him was her smile. It is a grin worn by a psychopath, one that expresses pure bliss and ignorance to the value of all ethics and morals, and especially human life.
He knew he had seen her face before. He could not remember where or when he saw it, but he knew it like the back of his hand. It frustrated him, the picture in his mind was so vivid it seemed as though she was before him merely seconds ago. That is when it struck him, an entire barrage of images and memories flooded the capacity of his mind. He knew her, her name, her attitude, the disposition her existence left him in. He hated her, despised her, wished death upon her. His mind continued to rage on, forcing him to let out a deep, loathing scream. As he howled at the top of his lungs, he realized something and came to quick halt. Where did he get the air to fill his lungs as to allow him to yell? The bizzare, almost impossible circumstances of the situation once again consumed his mind.
He had been sinking for what felt like an eternity, but he felt no urgency to inhale; it was as though he had suddenly grown gills. He knew he took in a large amount of water and that he shouldn’t be alive, but here he was, drifting into this seemingly infinite dark expanse. He was confused and scared, unsure of this fate. He contemplated several possibilities, Am I dead? Perhaps I'm a ghost?, this being the most prominent idea. His logically inclined brain normally wouldn't stoop to this level, but he found himself in a fairly abnormal and possibly supernatural situation. However, there was still one thing he took for truth, and that was the bitter taste of the murky water that surrounded him.
It was rusty and metallic, a copper-like flavor. It hadn’t tasted like this from the beginning. How strange.. he contemplated, for he recalled his first gulp of the slimy lake fluid similar to that of seaweed or other forms of aquatic grass.
No, his environment was changing. He was no longer falling into a lake, for he would have reached the bottom ages ago. He had slipped into a portal of blood and something terrible, an unmistakable evil. The deeper he delved, the greater an intense feeling of dread surrounded him. Paranoia crept through the deepest crevices of his mind like insects skittering around in a hollow corpse. A veil of fear loomed over his entire being, one greater than he had yet felt in his trek to the dark depths of this lake. A bellowing yet persistent moan gradually grew louder the farther he fell into this sea of madness. He had no vision, for he was engulfed by pure darkness, yet the imagery in his mind was driving him insane. Unspeakable horrors plagued his every thought, each one more demented and vivid than the last. He firmly shut his eyes and let out all his fear and desperation into crying scream, but it was muffled to silence by the sludge he was now submerged in. It oozed into his mouth and slid down his throat, filling his lungs to the brim. It burned, his chest was on fire and he frantcialy compulsed in his seat. This was it, this was his fate, to be swallowed by the mouth of hell and doomed to an eternity of torment. Hope, joy, and courage were now replaced with despair, agony and raw trepidation.
The beckoning growl had grown to a level so disturbing and intense that it all but consumed his what was left of his mind. He was barely concious, his compulsions had drained the last bit of energy left in his body. The horrors, which still made residence in his cranial container, had left his mind flayed and barely intact. He stat there, undead, and completely void of almost all feeling, except for pain—pain that will never cease. He began to wish death upon himself, simply to free him of this ungodly torment. He felt sharp pain on both sides of his skull; his eardrums had burst, overwhelmed by the monotone groan. It was like two hot coals were searing the inside his skull, it was nearly unbearable.
He sat their. Blind, deaf, mute and braindead. All that was left was pain. Pain that surpassed human perception and branded the soul. That's all that was left, a soul trapped in a fleshy prison within the hellish depths of this acursed lake.
As his life essence wept in hopelessness, everything suddenly stopped. The pain, the moan, the horrors, the taste death in the water, it all disappeared. He could feel again, specifically his head laying in his crossed arms. He was still sitting in the car, but he was dry now.
He didn’t feel shell shocked either, which he found exceptionally odd. Everything had simply reached a state of calm, which merely seconds ago seemed to be an impposible prospect. He slowly lifted his head and opened his tightly clenched eyes, confused as to what was going going on now. As he looked ahead of him he saw a workbench with tools, a door, a trashcan—he was in his garage. The tape and rope was gone and no longer kept his body bound. Relieved, he let out a deep sigh and laid his head down on the steering wheel again. He chuckled lightly, but he wasn't quite sure why. He was certain he had just visited Hell, and here is, sitting in his car in his garage, laughing to himself. Man, I need to stop drinking coffee. He thought to himself. A small widget of doubt lingered in the back of his mind—perhaps he was simply nervous, or maybe he was truly concerned about what just happened, but regardless, he found himself in a familiar place and took comfort in that.
It just seemed so vivid...
He sat up straight, shook his head, and reached for the car door handle, but he froze before his hand even touched the plastic. He saw something on the corner of his right eye, in the passenger seat. He turned his whold body around to confront whatever it was—It was her, but horribly wrong. Her flesh was rotten and loosely hanging onto her bones, her eyes were dilated and blood red, her hair matted and torn up—the nightmare wasn't over. She was staring into his soul with that piercing grin of her's, causing all color to fade from the man's skin. He couldn't move, something about her gaze had made him lose all control of his body. The veil of dread returned to his body, all sorts of emotions flowed through him, too many to decipher. She glanced down to her right hand and followed it as it creeped up to touch the man's cheek. Her nails were sharp and decrepit, horrible to look at, and even more terrifiying to contemplate what she planned to do with them. His paralysis wasn't entirely effective, for he could produce tears, of which were now sliding down his face. As one of the small, salty drops touched her finger, she let out a piercing shriek and scratched down the side of his face. He wanted to scream but was entirely consumed by the force that prevented him from moving. She was scowling and breathing heavily, letting out a small growl with each exhale.
Tears mixed with blood as the man sat there without a shred of hope left in his body. She tightly grabbed him by the throat with her left hand, chocking him. Her nails dug into his neck; they were like razorblades covered in acid, searing through his skin. Then, slowly yet dramatically, she lifted her other hand to his eye.
She glared straight into his pupils and spoke in her raspy, witch-like voice,”An eye for an eye, maxy!”
She stuck out her pointer finger and began to move it towards his pupil. The closer and closer it got, the man's terror and distraught grew drastically as to the mutilation that was upon him. He hoped that she would choke him to death before his eyes were even touched, but he knew that it would not be so. He was unable to struggle, forced to watch the sharp and grimy claw come closer, closer, closer. The tip was now practically touching his eye, and that is when she stopped. Oh god, how long is she going to prolong this torture? I can't bear this mu- he was cut off before he could finish the thought. She smiled, screeched, pulled back her arm, and rammed her finger straight into the socket.
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