Rest vs. Reality – FLASH FICTION



I just want rest. I love the quiet of your arms, the warmth that radiates from your body when we’re under blankets. Curled into the tightest ball my gangly limbs will allow, I huddle against you. We’re so close and I breathe you in, pressing my face against your chest. You hold me tighter when I kiss.

I never believed in telepathy but we don’t have to use words. You know I’m saying, I love you.

I love you too.

There is no place I feel safer. There is no place in the world I would rather be. You’re such a beautiful human.

I decide to tell you.

You’re such a beautiful human.

You’re not so bad yourself.

We chuckle at the same time, and you kiss the top of my head.

“It’s time to get up, darling,” you whisper.


“I said, ‘It’s time to get up!

I look up after you yelled at me. Water gushes from your mouth and splashes my face.

I wake up, still in my fetal huddle; but I am on the hard, cold floor. It is dark and wet. Someone is screaming but is soon drowned out by a spine-chilling laugh. He slurps his feet as I watch him come closer – his face hidden by shadows, but I see the curl of his lip and one raised eyebrow.

He grins. I’m going to kill you. You know that, don’t you?

I nod, inching away as much as I can with the shackles binding my arms and legs.

He sighs and kneels down. “What’s that you were saying about me being beautiful?” He holds a shiny blade in front of his face, examining it before glancing back at me. “Hm?”

The knife thrusts into my stomach when I open my mouth to answer.


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