Forever is over

The darkness of the room seems to shelter me from the atrocities that daylight feeds your eyes. The screaming inside my head momentarily blocks out the sounds of terror from outside the blackened window. Sobbing violently into my hands, I hug my knees as close to my chest as the uniform allows. My temple rests tenderly on my knee, and for a second, I forget. For a second, the pain eases.

Everything has disintegrated into the lemon-coloured meadow. Brimming with primroses, the meadow is my favourite springtime destination. And then I see him. He's walking toward me, his face shining in the sun. His hair blows in the gentle breeze, and I feel myself starting towards him. I can't help but run. I slip into his arms naturally, and he squeezes me with such ease.
"Forever," he whispers to me.
I close my eyes and relax into his shoulders, gently murmuring my reply. "Forever."

The drip of murky water hits my forehead like a brick. The scent of rotting wallpaper brings my reality flooding back. Wiping the tears from my chin, I try to find him back in the meadow. But he's gone. The meadow is dark and barren, and he's nowhere to be seen. I let my head bang backwards onto the wall, and feel my body jolt as I exhale deeply. It's all I can do to not to scream his name.

Instead, I stiffen, frozen, as I hear Marshal's slow, purposeful footsteps coming back down the hallway. I gulp in the air rapidly, as though I'm never going to breathe again, and I hold my own hand to steady its shaking. I hug my knees even tighter and count the seconds until his arrival.

One. One and a half. Two. Two and a half. Three. Three and a...

I gasp in the air, trying not to make a sound, as his sickeningly smooth voice cuts through silence.  "Come on sweetheart."

I struggle to my feet, my hand steadying my shaking thighs. The room seems to close in on me, as I catch a glimpse of his snake-like eyes. I lean back against the wall with a stifled cry. My frantic attempts to steady my body and appease my breathing cannot be unnoticed, but merely ignored. He doesn't move. His stature doesn't change. Instead, this time, he's not quite so patient.

"Come on, sweetheart." Although still sickly smooth, I can hear the glint of unsettling rage in his voice.

I daren't delay any longer. I force myself to take the small, shaky footsteps towards him. He moves aside. As I stumble down the hallway, time seems to suddenly stand still. Distorted visions of primroses and wild dogs flash around my brain, as I begin to count.

One. One and a half. Two. Two and a half. Three. Three and a half. Four. Four and a half. Five. Five and a...