The world was shaking around her, distorting her reality and feeding her panic with a sense of chaos and decontrol. A single thought repeated itself in her head like a broken cassette; a need to flee from the dangerous unknown which laughed at her demise from the creeping shadows. Anxiety and fright held hands in her heart, driving her body around with erratic turns of the wheel.

Lynn rushed out of the bathroom, tripping over the trouser leg and bumping into the wall in the process. But she didn't stop to finish putting clothes on; she was a bird trying to abandon her cage, not caring about dignity as she got rid of her falling trousers and frantically searched for the closest escape route.

Shouts echoed behind her as Dana called for her to stop, but they fell to deaf ears.

Because Lynn wasn't sure it was her friend calling her; because she couldn't trust her own mind. Because she was scared; not of the monsters born from her breaking reality, but of the ghosts in her past claiming her soul again.

What if Dana was right?

What if she was relapsing?

Lynn wasn't ready to face that possibility, not again.

Someone grabbed her just as she was reaching for the knob of the front door; bulky arms wrapped around her torso and pulled her back, securing her effortlessly.

"Oliver, let me go," she begged, yet her thrashing lacked power as part of her welcomed the comfort his friend provided. "I need to get out of here."

"And go where?" There was no anger or irritation in his voice, only sympathy. "Let us help."

Out of the corner of her eye, she met Nick's worried expression.

"Lynn?"

The confused glint in his eye reminded her of his lack of knowledge regarding her past. Something in the way he observed her -- the absence of a grin which seemed to be permanently-plastered on his usually-relaxed features -- made her pause on her frantic attempts to escape, and energy abandoned her as she collapsed against Oliver.

"Nick, take those to the living room," he instructed, referring to the mugs of hot chocolate he was holding, before looking over his shoulder at Mark and motioning for him to do the same, which he did after giving the exhausted woman a quick squeeze on her shoulder.

"Do you have them?" Dana queried as she reached them, panting ever so slightly after having rushed after her fast friend.

Oliver nodded. "They're in my bag. I'll get them."

Switching places with the tall man, Dana wrapped an arm around Lynn and shared a forced smile with her. "You'd better not fall over, or you'll drag me down too. You know I'm as weak as the coffee Mark used to make."

"I heard that!" yelled said man.

As the women walked into the living room, Dana smirked. "I'm fully aware."

Her attempts to distract Lynn from her own mind worked, if only for a moment. For some seconds, she relished in the presence of her friends as she sat down on one of the sofas. Accepting a mug from Nick, she let out a heavy sigh and closed her eyes as the smell of hot chocolate silenced her anxiety.

"You stopped taking it, didn't you?"

Lifting her head to meet Dana's accusing gaze, she gave her a knowing look. "My doctor said I could if I didn't have more episodes after a month."

Dana frowned. "He also mentioned the possibility of a relapse."

Lynn ran a hand through her hair, fingers tangling with the wet locks, before taking a sip of the hot drink. Her head was swimming, burning with an incoming headache as the recent events came back to haunt her mind. And her moment of peace shattered, throwing her back into that whirlwind of anxious thoughts and deafening questions.

Her eyes widened, and she froze as her skin crawled with the remembrance of the inhuman shadow which had tormented her in the bathroom.

"We're not alone," she murmured as the mug threatened to slip from her hands. "There's something here, playing with my mind and making me feel like I'm going crazy."

Or was she really losing her grip on reality? Was she a victim of her own mind?

"That bad, huh?" commented Mark with a pensive voice, sharing a glance with Dana as the latter was quick to take the mug from her trembling hands. "I thought it was over."

Dana sighed. "She hadn't had an episode in almost five years."

"I feel like an octopus in a garage," Nick intervened. "Can anyone tell me what's going on?"

Lynn could hear them talking among themselves, but her attention was diverted. Their voices were but whispers at the back of a theatre; a background noise as she sat in the front row. She could still enjoy the show her emotions were playing for her.

Approaching footsteps made the wooden floor shake slightly, causing her to stiffen. Her thoughts stopped screaming as an intruder sneaked in, stepping on stage to steal the show. Oliver walked up to her and placed something small and round before her, on a floating platform which swayed in the air between them.

Lynn frowned at the strange item, unable to comprehend what it was. But it mattered not, because her attention was grabbed by the new characters that had appeared on scene as the show resumed.

"After the incident, she changed," Dana started as she sat on a red cushion, legs crossed. "As anyone could have expected. But it was still disturbing."

Nick dragged his feet across the dark stage to lean against a table which was upside down. "What do you mean? I didn't notice anything."

Mark huffed from his spot on a floating bench next to Dana. "It was around that time. You know, when you went abroad with a group of hippies to become one with nature or something like that."

"It was only for a month," he retorted in a whiny voice. "Couldn't handle the mosquitos."

Dana cleared her throat. "Anyway, it was not long until we realized something was off. Lynn became erratic; she kept whispering to herself, switching from calm to anxious so frequently and for no reason whatsoever."

Arching an eyebrow, Nick glanced over at said woman in search of an answer from her. But Lynn couldn't speak; her lips had been sewed to make it impossible for her to open her mouth without tearing it to bloody shreds. No one seemed to notice -- not her pain, not her panic --, however, and the story went on while she tried to break the threads with trembling, red fingers.

"It was Oliver's idea to visit a specialist," Mark continued while pointing at the ex-rugby player so the lights fell upon his intimidating figure.

He nodded curtly. "Back then, I was studying real cases of victims of traumatic events and their reactions and evolution over time. I noticed the signs in Lynn, a brief reactive psychosis triggered by... the incident."

No one ever mentioned what had really happened that night, in both fear and respect. But Lynn thought about it a lot; the memory still managed to eat her alive, to choke her in her own guilt.

"The doctor confirmed it," added Dana with a sigh. "She's not psychotic, but the effects were just as bad for almost a month. And even after overcoming it with time and therapy, her doctor said a relapse was very plausible with the proper trigger."

"Something must have set her off, but what?"

All eyes drifted to stare at her, just in time for her to cut the last thread with her nails and feel the thick blood kiss her chin as it rolled towards a crimson shirt. With a vision blurred by pained tears, Lynn managed to let out a pathetic whimper and open her lacerated mouth.

"We're not... alone," she repeated in a shaky voice.

But her words were muffled by a deadly-pale hand. Cold chuckles rumbled in her ear as a shadow neared her, before a familiar yet unrecognisable voice whispered, "I wouldn't bother, little sister. Who's going to believe someone with a mind like yours?"

Against her own judgement, Lynn listened to him; perhaps, because it had been too long since she had heard his voice -- as disturbingly-gelid and different as it sounded. Or, perhaps, because deep down, she knew he was right.

She forced herself to glance over her shoulder, torn between fear and nostalgia. But he wasn't there; no one was.

Except for a shapeless shadow with a soul as black as the darkest night.

"Even if you're right."

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Word count: 1.448

Total count: 12.694