It was clear from the start I was in a nightmare.

The way the terrain seemed superficial, dipped in tarnished ink, giving the impression a hazy filter was passed in front of my eyes, obscuring the truth.

The landscape around me was derelict and barren, littered with the odd decaying bush.

The ground below my feet was a murky grey, a monotonous myriad of grey scale colours.

It seemed odd - could this be the whole of my dream? I had suffered nightmares before, of course, yet I had learned to suppress them. It seemed the earlier day's events had induced the all-too-familiar sensation, and I wished it would end, or conclude on this, a bare landscape.

But these wishes would remain that, for I soon noticed warm liquid pooling at my shoes: blood. Insidiously, the scarlet residue clawed up my legs, eating up my body in a greedy manner, sucking and climbing like a deranged thing. I tried to escape its grip yet I was stuck, frozen to the ground with no hope of escaping.

Panic hitched in my throat, actions becoming frenzied as the blood submerged my chest, staining my clothes as it steadily lapped. I knew this was just a fragment of my imagination, but it was so vivid it still wrought distress.

Wailing slightly, I craned my neck upward as the blood continued to rise and rise, tickling my chin, teasing my lips, flooding the proximity of my face. . . I was choking, drowning in the salty residue; helpless, dead.

But my nightmare did not end there. My dreaming form awakened to another scenario, the landscape once again painted the murky, foggy shades. Instead of blood, my mind had conquered another sensitive point: my parents. My parents . . . Their eyes so familiar in their gleaming state, clothes as familiar as their faces, smiling at me in a way only a parent could - with love, gentle reassurance.

My hand seemed to have a mind of its own, and my fingertips reached to touch them.

Encouragingly, they beamed brighter, faces awash with a bright lustre of affection. My apprehension faded slightly, now only raw emotion and longing filling my airways. The scenario was beautiful, wistful, and I wished I would stay here forever. . .

However, the blissful serenity was shattered as their faces started to deform, dripping obscenely like wax figures. Their predominant features became mashed together, creating a gruesome myriad of skin and unintelligible gunk.

"YOU BETRAYED US!" The unison voice was a shock, and I stumbled back. "YOU ARE NO DAUGHTER TO US! DIE! DIE!" The words repeated in a loop, numbing my ears with fervent agitation.

My fear was replenished; a sob escaped my throat. Desperate to evade these ugly renditions of my parents, I recoiled, turning around to find a route out. But all around me were more representations of my mother and father, screaming the same obscene words.

Falling to the ground, I cradled my ears with shaking hands, sobbing relentlessly as they continued. No mercy was heralded, and I felt myself literally crumbling at the force of their melancholy cries. I saw my clothes tatter and rip, my skin peel and float teasingly in the air around me, my blood bubble in magenta bursts, spiralling in a tornado of the fragments of me.

Then, I was no more. Only then did they stop.

I woke. My breath left my mouth in a rapid succession, body shaking. My clammy hands ran through my dishevelled hair, more sweat lining the partitions of my head.

Trying to collect myself, I looked around in the dim lighting, panic surging in my chest as I tried to ascertain my whereabouts. Then, I remembered.

The day before I had left my family, left my former life, and stumbled incoherently around the neighbourhood, my mind blinded by the emotion clogging any rational thoughts.

Soon, I had to stop, thus finding my way to this abandoned tube line, nestled underground amongst the confines of my Earth, safe from any electronic eyes. Honestly, I didn't remember much else, apart from raised voices and the desperation to sleep. . .

"Nightmare?" The word cut through the darkness, the rather deep - yet feminine - fluctuations barely registering in the haze surrounding my ears.

I stayed silent, my nightmare still lingering and unsure whether to trust this disembodied voice. "Seriously, do you even talk? I'm not going to kill you. Not yet, anyways." A pause. A snicker. "So, you're the person Chris picked up a few tunnels down, eh? What's your story, then?"

"Um... Hello." I feebly answered, my voice hoarse. Mentally cursing myself for sounding so pitiful, I cleared my throat, shifting my position to a more dignified sitting position. How should I answer? Honestly, or withhold the information? Whoever this was, it seemed she was not the definite Leader of whatever establishment I had stumbled upon, whatever it was. "I don't want to answer that question yet. Not until I have had my questions fulfilled."

"Hmm. . . Maybe it's not so weak." Came the sneery reply. I held my tongue. The silence stretched out, yet I could tell the person was still watching, observing me in stony solitude.

A gulp cascaded down my throat, and I scrutinised the gloom for some indication of who had been talking. Yet all I could see were twin pinpricks of light - eyes belonging to a rat - peering from the gloom, resonating a dim lustre like the gleam of tainted stars, faded yellow.

Rats were plentiful nowadays, they thrived amongst the ruins of our outside world. They knew not to go inside where all the humans were, just loitered in abandoned shops and similar establishments, living off the rotting land.

Continuing to watch the occasionally shifting eyes, I wondered what it was doing, hoping to distract myself from my probable impending doom.

I tuned in to my whereabouts, somehow hearing a few snores from behind me. The person who spoke a while ago must have this period's watch.

Suddenly, a feeble squeal sounded from the shrouding gloom. The eyes had vanished. Scrambling backwards, my breaths quickened, yet I calmed slightly as a familiar snicker registered in my ears. "Jesus. Jumpy, aren't you? I just caught the pesky buggar." The voice again.

Squinting, I vaguely saw a silhouette holding the rat. "We eat them, you know. Nice and tasty for breakfast. Speaking of which, I need to wake the others in a bit. Lazy sods."

My speculation heightened. What would happen to me? Was she telling the truth? I shifted uncomfortably, apprehension on the rise. "If I may ask - who are you and your companions?"

"I was wondering when you'd ask that. I'm Robyn. The one who's snoring is my twin, Jay. The other one is the Leader: Chris."

I nodded at the information, before realising she probably couldn't see me all too well. "Okay. Thank you." I paused, hoping she wouldn't get snarky again if I asked something else. "You're not going to kill me, are you?" Oh God. I sounded like a mere child.

Another bout of quiet laughter, though the action was more mean than amused. "Maybe. Maybe not. Depends on who you are, where you come from. Depends on if we can trust you. If you are suspicious, though, I'm sure we can make your death quick. We have a lovely selection of guns and knifes. I can show you them, if you want." Robyn replied. I could almost feel the smirk she must've been wearing.

"Don't worry. I'm sure you'll find me alright. Anyway, who says I won't kill you first?" I didn't mean to sound so threatening, but Robyn's sarcastic words just extracted the cruel reply from me. From the snort that echoed from the shadows, she knew not to take my temper seriously.

"We'll see about that. What's your name, eh?"

"That's none of your business."

"Alright. I'm sure Chris will extract some information from you soon. Otherwise, I have my own methods of interrogation. . ." The drawl sounded nonchalant, confident in the offhand manner it threatened such a deceitful task.

A shiver coruscated along my spine, once again contemplating my fate.

Why did I leave? Why did I come here? I was sure Robyn had similar questions to my own, but I wasn't telling her, not until I was able to survey the whole lot of them. Especially the Leader, Chris.

His first impression would matter on whether I stayed in this establishment, or simply left. Although I must sound quite confident, I'm not. I don't know how I'm going to cope. I don't know how I'm going to survive.

A flicker of flame distracted me from my thoughts. "Wakey wakey! Rise and shine, another day of probable doom." Robyn called. In the dim illumination I could see the other figures stirring, yawns piercing the air.

Well. I guess this is it.

{Thank you so much if you have decided to read my story! Comments would be appreciated!}