Esther Rains.

A painful thought. A painful dream. Darkness made corporeal, perhaps, yet maybe as simple as a subtle nuance of the subconscious. But pain remains, and pain made physical may distract from that which is imagined. Perhaps, in her mind, the act is real, of pain being inflicted upon her, of being attacked. Perhaps, it distracted her from the fact that it was imagined. And perhaps that is why her raised fist crashed once more into her pallid, sweating face.

Her screams resonated from the walls. The terrified shrieks cut through silence like a knife does flesh; smoothly, and painfully. Enough to send chills down one’s spine. Her body convulsed violently as she tore at her clothing, ripping it from her thin body. Then her movement ceased, and the only sound she made was a muffled sob. Then, she lay still.

Her name is Esther Rains. Every night, she has a nightmare. A nightmare which, to her, is real. Her dream-world is perpendicular to the real world; she is living a dream. A horrible dream. And every morning, as soon as she wakes up, she writes in her journal.

October 23rd, 7:32am

I went to see Ryan last night. Oh god, I don’t know what’s going on…how can he possibly love me as much as he says he does, then…do these things to me…
I am covered in bruises and cuts that I can’t hide. I can’t hide the fact that I let him do this to me. So, when people ask, I say I do it to myself.
Because it’s true.
I don’t even try hard enough to stop him. I guess he’s right, then, deep down I do want it.

Esther.

And the day goes on as normal.