After Midnight

Luan jerked awake, lungs screaming in pain as he tried to breath. He felt his vision blackout, fumbling over his sleeping limbs as he fell out of bed. He groaned, trying to get his numb arm to work as he crawled onto his knees.

He must have been sleeping on it, because all he felt was pins and needles stabbing every cell as he smacked it repeatedly. He had to clench his teeth against the almost pain it created, the urge to cry and laugh so intertwined he couldn't decipher which one was the most necessary to get the feeling to go away.

He clutched his head with the good arm, trying to get air to go back where it's supposed to as he gasped desperately.

Luckily for him, his bed consisted of a mattress on the floor, or else he would have gotten a real good smacking on his way down.

The window was dark, stars littered along the edge of the sky outside, the occasional car passing by on the street. He found his phone on the floor, half shoved under his bed and surrounded by crumpled papers.

Checking the time, he noticed it was around two in the morning. He hauled himself to his feet, stumbling around his room as he threw on a jacket he found in the corner, crumpled, with a broken zipper.

Luan knew there was something dark, lurking in the shadows of his mind. He knew he'd just had a dream of the past, pieces of memories flickering across his vision even now.

Something bad had happened. He felt pain, a deep fear that rattled through his body with each breath, a stuttering of air in his lungs that wheezed past his lips like a dry cough.

He just couldn't remember what was causing it. Where did it come from, this fear so deep it rubbed against his core with icy nails, scratching for any kind of purchase it could use to drag him to its lair? Where did this pain, so hollowed and aching he felt like he could cease existence at any given moment, like a knife slicing down his heart in steady intervals, stem from?

The walls felt too close, the air stale and thin. His body was still tingling, limbs feeling half a sleep and uncoordinated. Luan needed air, he needed to get out.

Scooping up his phone off the floor, he found its battery to be a quarter full, good enough in case he needed it. He left his wallet, not wanting to be carrying cash around at this time of night.

Just the snagging of his keys, phone in the pocket of his jacket, and shoes on his feet.

The street was empty, which, for this time of night, made sense. Luan was an oddity, walking when most sane people were getting the sleep their bodies obviously needed. But he just couldn't stay in bed right now. There was a sense of wrong in his head, like his brain just didn't sit quite right, or the soul in his body was just a little askew.

He could feel the tired ache in his bones, a chill creeping in at the memories he could never quite remember. The beginning of the dream was always the same, the woods, his hideout, his paper mache animals. The Seashells.

Then the scream. It was the last part, the part that made him feel like throwing up and forgetting how to breathe, that he just couldn't grasp. Anytime he tried to remember, tried to grab that elusive past, his body physically rebelled. Luan was scared to look closer. Despite everything he'd experienced, he knew that whatever was in the back of his head, was a monster waiting to devour his mind if he let it get loose.

A chill crept along his arms, wind sneaking into whatever pocket of skin it could find as he scuffed his shoes across the sidewalk.

Luan felt so cold, and not just from the lack of sunlight. The darkness in his head was heavy, like a cold metal weight, set upon his every thought and refusing to let him rest. His breath was shaky, wrapping his arms around himself tightly as he tried to focus more on the repetitive motion of walking than the elusive memories trying to circle his mind and break it.

Despite his unending hatred for his family, Luan knew that what he really needed to do was find out what happened that day. He'd never felt so helpless, watching as his mother stumbled away from something threatening her life. Something sinister. Something deadly.

No. Someone.

Luan clutched his now aching head, his thought tangent ruining any semblance of ease he'd managed to force down his own throat as he stopped in the middle of the sidewalk.

The ground, cracked and chipped along the sides came into view, obscured by his fingers as he held his forehead. Sometimes, Luan wished he could just leave. Stop his plans or revenge, forget the past that plagued him even in sleep.

Move on.

His mother had suffered though. This he knew, even if he couldn't remember the end. They had treated her badly, just because she refused to do what they wanted. And it got her killed.

Luan let out a heavy sigh, pinch the bridge of his nose as he looked around.

He caught sight of some stars above, twinkling faintly amidst the light pollution found only in large cities.

A neon sign, brighter than anything around, brought his attention to the right. It glowed with promise, colors dancing in tangent with the darkness of the night.

Shaks Clubhouse

He could use a drink.

Maybe two.

For how late it was, plenty of people seemed in need of the same thing. There were quite a few cars out front, the place bustling with business in a way the rest of the street lacked.

Nighttime breeds a lack of the happy factor. Alcohol seemed the perfect remedy.

Luan had gotten to the door, hand in the process of gaining him entry, when he had a realization that completely ruined his plans.

He glared, eyes squinted and indignant, at the superhero themed pajama pants he spotted adorning his legs. Looking closer, he had no socks, his wallet was back in his apartment, and he had neglected to wash away the grime from his experience the previous night.

He smelled like dusty cupboard and stale sweat.

He was definitely not fit to be around people, even whatever deplorable characters would be out this late. And without money, there was no way to quench the need for memory loss he was trying to buy in a bottle.

He let out a long breath through his teeth, turning back the way he'd come and heading towards the one place he didn't feel like being right now. All for the sake of drinking questionable beverages in the company of even more questionable people.

Such a great plan.