Past and Nightmares (2)

A woman embraced him tightly from behind, and her voice rang out in the quiet room. She comforted and soothed the child. "Baby, it will all be over soon. Dad will come soon, let's just wait; but please, don't make any noise, okay? Mommy will protect you, don't worry. Mommy is here with baby," Her tone was low and soft, but exceptionally clear and calming. As a result, the baby in her arms nodded, but his grip on his mother's dress tightened.

In the child's innocent mind, he trusted his mother completely, but the noise and chaos outside scared him. He had no idea what was going on in the truest sense, but even as a child, he could tell the difference between good and bad guys. Those fighting the guards outside were undoubtedly bad guys.

The noise outside continued for several minutes. Arren, as a child, could hear her mother's fast and nervous heartbeat. His mother's embrace became increasingly tight with each passing minute.

The entire mansion was dark, indicating that the power line had been tampered with. The memory becomes chaotic once more, making Arren's head hurt like torture; his mind tried everything it could to reject the incoming information, but it was futile.

The next scene was beyond the comprehension of a young boy like him. He witnessed his mother shielding him from intruders; she hugged his child as if her life depended on it. After being shot, her blood gushes from her lips. Her blood flowed through the floor and some of it made its way to the boy in her arms.

His mother did not scream but instead grunted in pain while still smiling at him and staring at him with a gentle gaze. It was as if the woman had anticipated the event and was prepared for it. Perhaps his mother did. She didn't even look at the enemy, nor did she make her final dying wish. "I love you, my Arren," was the last thing Arren heard from his mother.

She then shut her eyes. Her embrace had loosened slightly, but it remained. The intruders did not pursue and kill the young Arren; perhaps the woman was the only one important in their plan, or perhaps they assumed the young child couldn't possibly understand what was going on or remember their faces. Most likely a combination of the two.

After a series of gunshots continued and cars began to arrive, the men scattered and fled. The young boy didn't notice them because his attention was fixed on his mother, who was 'sleeping' and embracing him.

"Mom... mom..." the young Arren called out and nudge his mother with his trembling hands.

Unfortunately, the woman did not respond, and the only result was that the blood stained the child even more. He cried and called him a lot of times and he also started calling his father. He couldn't understand why his mother wouldn't want to respond to him.

When the Duke arrived, this strange and frightening sight was the first thing he saw. His wife lifelessly hugged his crying son and the blood that painted that whole image, the Duke's face paled as his mind went blank. This was the worst scenario he could think of while he was hurrying to get home.

Arren witnessed it all in his dreams. He was now crying, just like the young him. His head throbbed like it was being hammered. It consistently refused what he had just witnessed. His chest tightened as his heart ached in pain.

The scene in which his mother died in front of him was constantly replaying in his mind, but it was also being discarded by his subconscious. He had no idea something like that had happened before. Although he had many theories about how his mother died, the most logical and likely ones were a car accident or disease, he never imagined in his dreams that his mother was actually... killed.

He had not yet moved on from what he had witnessed when the dreams began to shake off again, as if it were a television screen with a poor signal. His mind was still jumbled, and he was terrified of what he would see next.

Arren began to realize that he was not having a dream, but rather a nightmare, one of the most terrifying nightmares he'd ever had. He was scared and wanted to wake up. Nothing happened, no matter how loudly he screamed in his head, and the next event had already occurred.

He remembered this part of the dream vividly. In fact, it had just happened, and it was still fresh in his mind. It was also the source of his sleepless nights and some of his nightmares.

Recently, he was becoming scared to close his eyes and only to dream some kind of nightmare related to it. Arren hoped that by beating up Ashton, he would be able to calm down and relieve his stress. He was aware that the practice was wrong and unorthodox, but he was stubborn. He would only think about what he would do after.

The scene and his memories matched. Everything seemed to be being replayed and reacted to. The only difference was that he never made it out of the restroom. His mind became hazy as his brows furrowed, realizing that the event was very different from what he knew.

Some men went to the restroom; Arren's mind was protesting, and his body was fighting back, but he lacked the strength to do so. They assisted him in getting up, and while he was weak, he could still walk, albeit wobbly. He wanted to scream for help, but his throat hurt, and only occasional moans came out.

Then someone from the man's side injected something into him. He was certain it was another dose of the drug that had made him weaker and the effects more intense.

Arren, who was watching, screamed angrily, wanting his other self to flee. Just like before, Arren had become the Arren who he was just watching and relieving the memory. Tears streamed down her face as he was escorted by the men outside of the restroom.

He was also in much more pain than before. He couldn't stop it with his willpower alone. It infiltrated his system, causing his pheromones to become chaotic and aggressive. Arren was terrified; he screamed and hoped that someone would wake him up from his nightmare.

It was such a vivid memory that even Arren was unsure if it was the real one. And that everything he had experienced in the previous week had been created by his mind to help him escape his own reality.

The loud music had become incomprehensible, and all that was now overcoming him were his instincts. The world becomes blurred as his body became itchy and hot, and it was so painful he just wanted to die.