Who: Katie Harwood, Maureen Epps and Jack Ferriman!
When: Late night
Where: Library
Rating: TBD
Status: Incomplete

Being in a strange place with strange people should have had “NIGHTMARES AHEAD” written all over it, but Katie still managed to be shocked when they came her way. It wasn’t enough that she’d had nightmares for years on end, but now that she was living one, they still seemed to hit her full throttle.

Always little things at first; things that didn’t belong in a nightmare. Parents that were sweet but not hers, a mother sewing a beautiful blue dress fit for a royal child; all things pretty and full of light filling her thoughts and dreams. An ocean liner, big and beautiful and full of rich and well off Italian’s on their way to America, where she was going to meet her “parents.” Sweet men on deck helping her and adults playing with her and her toys even though they had better things to do. A child in a sea of adults, but somehow, still a part of the entire world.

A sweet little dream only to be quickly corrupted by horror and bloodshed. An entire dance floor of people murdered by a razor wire, cutting them in half, and Katie the only survivor in the midst of the carnage screaming. It was so disgusting—the smell of all that blood, and her first sight of the innards of other humans. She wasted no time and ran, crying and still screaming. Nobody heard her; everyone was screaming and crying, running for help and not finding any. Throats slit, guns fired open on every single person possible—everyone dying, everyone dead. Men dragging her as she fought for freedom, knowing it wouldn’t come, and nobody able to help her before a noose was strung and crack! All gone.

That would have been a sweeter ending, but no. After death there was more torture, more waiting. Katie spun and danced on the deck as a spirit, a blaze of wind and in the body of a young girl forever, though she’d mentally aged a good thirty years into a woman. Existing in terror, watching more and more people come to die, knowing that your fate had been sealed by a man whose only desire was to kill and shed blood for his own personal vendetta. Torture. Waiting.

And then Katie would always awaken, cold sweat dampening her face and her pillow. Her roommate used to wake and ask if she was okay, but after years of living together, it’d just become common to hear Katie screaming in the middle of the night, “He can’t mark me! He can’t mark me!”

Instead of even trying to bother sleeping in this nightmare of a house, scared out of her mind about who might come and try and attack her in the dead of night, Katie just ambled down to the library—which was thankfully empty—and picked up an old, musty book. She flopped into a chair and propped it open on her lap while leaning her head to the side, her eyes trying to close of their own accord. She wasn’t going to allow that. Katie refused to fall asleep.