Now Your Nightmare Comes To Life.

Fucking nightmares. All I want is some sleep once in a while. I guess that's too much to ask for.
Waking up from a nightmare so real, screaming and shaking in your sleep. It's the worst. Having that scared, helpless feeling of death. Feelin like your very soul has been twisted, mangled and damaged. How are you supossed to deal with that? I have no fucking clue, and it's scary. Image you had my nightmare.
Slowly, the dagger slides down your skin, the sharp blade a cold type of metal. Without warning, the blade seeps into the skin of your throat, causing you to first scream out, and then choke on your very own blood. The screams die down to pathetic whimpers. What the fuck is going on here? The dagger retracts from your destroyed throat, blood trailing behind. The holder plunges it into you, slowly pulling it out of your skin. Over and over and over and over. Ten, twenty, thirty, thousands of wounds penatrate your skin. You're already dead, yet you can still feel the hammering of your heart, and the agonizing pain of each and every sliced wound. Dozens of tiny designs are dug into your skin. And after hours of torture, of being left to die, the pain swallows you into darkness.
Again, nightmares. Terrible, twisted, ugly things they are.