Trevor woke up one morning, covered in blood and human excrement. His arms trembles, as if he had used them all night; yet they were numb. Beating a man to death with your bare hands will do that to you. Terrifying thoughts found their way into his mind as he clambered to his feet, looking around at his strange surroundings. Nothing he could see was familiar. Trevor was lost, and for some odd reason, had a familiar metallic taste in his mouth.
This was not the first time Trevor awoke like this. Ever since he was a young man he has had waking dreams of murder and depravity. Each time more real than the last, each time, a new body, a new life ended. Trevor could not for the life of him, figure out where he was though, this time it was far more confusing than any time before.
Scrambling around the rooms of the building he awoke in, the realization came in, he was not near his home, nor was he near his own country. Snow and wind blew around outside the cold, damp house. Being from California, this was entirely not what was expected. Never had the nightmares been so destructive to his life, sure they had made him take a life, but never had they taken him so far from home.
Over a loud speaker down the road, a voice came through, the accent was familiar, but the words were entirely not what he expected to ever hear. “Есть злоумышленник, тело найдено, все в поисках!” The words repeated themselves, what did they mean, what was going on? Trevor had no idea, the last thing he remembers was being at the bar with his friends.
Trevor scanned through the house for any evidence of where he was, who he might of been with, anything, but the house was empty, except for blood and shit everywhere, neither of which were his.
“Okay, Okay.. I need to clean up”, he spoke to himself out loud, this centered himself and he proceeded to search for a shower to clean up. Cold, frigid water rained down over his body. There was no heat at all, as if the pipes were full of a rush of cold, like his heart, no feelings expressed for the body he know he made, the life he took. No remorse, only confusion of where he was, and why the damned shower wouldn’t warm up.
“I really need to get out of here”, the thoughts echoed in his head as he dried off and got dressed, one leg at a time into some pants in the house that were not his. They fit, a little snug, but they fit. “Why can’t I remember it?”, he asked himself, though he didn’t truly want the answer.
Dressing himself completely, he proceeded to the front door, took a deep breath, then opened it and stepped out-side. BANG, a loud gunshot could be heard echoing around. Trevor’s lifeless body hit the ground, blood pouring out of the hole in his head where his face used to be. Staining the snow that deep hue of rusty red as it seeped deeper and deeper.
The bed stirred, the blankets pulled to the side, yawning, Trevor awoke in his bed back in California. “What an awful dream”, he thought, “Third time this week though.” A recurring nightmare had plagued him since his wife was found dead 2 months before outside her work while he was on tour. His lust for his own life to end haunted him, with dark dreams. Misery loves company, too proud to seek help, too much of a coward to end it himself. Trevor could not bring himself to either side, and continued his day to day routine, without his love. This was his curse in life.