The wȯ̵̻͈̳͖͉ͅͅr̴͚̲̔͌ļ̸̠̺̘̀̏ͅd is melti̵̧͕̝͕͓̙̳̼͌ͅń̶̩̼͔̲̂͌g̶̢̹̟͛̏̀͊̚͝͝

Ḁ̸̧̧̧̟̲̗̯̺͉͔̳̪͔̦̜̬̺̫̩̳͓̞͖͇͖̦͈̝͍̙̞͇̥͚͎̝̯̗̍̆̅̋̈́͑̾̆́͛̌̊̈́̾́̿̇͛̒̐̀̑́͋̐͌̓̀͗̈́̄̂̃͐̈́̀͗̀͘̚͜͜͝K̶̳̳̹̻̜̥̘̦̹̏̈́̊̆́͛̈́̒̉̔̀H̷̛̛̲̱͕̲͖̳̗͖̪̖́́̎̅̈̾̏̉͗̾͆͒̋̆̅̉̑͆̕̚D̷̨̧̛͚̰͇͙̣̦͓͉̥͇̩̟͈̰̞̰̰̦̤͍͓͚͚̭̩͖̟͉̥̲̝͈̳̗̦̐͜͜S̵̢̢̧̢̧̧̜̲̺͔̪̺̞͈͙̬̯̤̘͉̰̺̰̙̗̱̺̙̹̠̞͉̥̠̘̬̞͉̝͚͙̩͋̉͒̆̆̾̈́̅͗̄̅͋͐̀̀̈̇̂͛̐́̀̀̓͒́̑̿̕̕̚͜͝͝͝͝͠͝ͅJ̶̢̝͚͇̟̹͍̪̝̺͉̱͈͉̩͙͇̥̪͎͓͚̬̠͈͈̥̠̹̹̙͉̤̗̤̘̾̉͂̎͛̂̏͑̽̌͌̄̈́̽̈̈́̌̊́̔͗̏́͒̀͊̈́̎̚͜͜͝͝K̵̨̧̧̢̧̻͙͚̻̱̘̘͚͔̣͎͙̲̬̘͓͇̥͎̠͇̯̝̫̦̾̄̊̋́́̈́̀̅͌͜͝͠Ę̷̨̢̢̡̢̛̙̙̠̹͍̹͇̟͙̞̤̞̞͍͕͍͈̺̲̪̲̻͓̮̗̻͉̝̮͈̤͔̟̦̱̲̙͔̠̲̬͇̋̍̄̄͛̈́̾͂̇̋͒̀̅̈́̑̈́̉́̌̍̏̈́́́͆̍̓͛̓͌̀̾͂̑͝͝͠͝Į̶̛͈̲̼̩̜͈͈́̽͋̄͗͗͋̈̑̀̇̆̒͋͒̈́̂̽͆̽̾͘̕͝͝H̴̢̛̤̩̼̬̼͓͔̗͙͚̹̼͍̤͓̫̣̭̦͉͕͔̰̙̜̺͉͂̿̾͌͐̐́̒͋́͆͊̈́́̈̈̇͗͂͊͐̇̆̈́̓̈́̍̑͋́́̚͘͜͝͠F̸̡̧͕̳̰̞̭̼̠̼̫͈̻̳͍̫͍̝̼̙̫̩̦͕͚̮̒͊̏͐̏̎̋͗̂̓̆̔̈́́͊͋̋̅̍͛̒̈̃̑͘̕͠͠ͅͅD̸̨̪̯̙̼͍̥̦̹̯̤̏Ķ̷̗̙̞̗̮̝̦͕̘̳̌͋̌̅̑͆͐̉͊͋̍̽͝J̵̢̡͙͚͎̻̠̹͉̝͔̜͔̼͉̝̤̑͆̃F̴̯͌̿̎̾̉̿̒̓̒̑̃͠͝K̴̲̹̦͕̮͕͖͇͎͎͉͖̻̤̜̪̳͔̼̤̼͙̀̓͊̀͂̏̉̌̌͋̓̍̇̅̋͐̑̉̉̉́̋̇͑̍̐̇͑͆͘̚̚͘͝͝͠ͅN̵̛̫̻̦͉̬͈͙̲̪̜̗̗͚̖̥̩̲̜̑̀͗̓͐̇͛̐̍̃̊̽̒͆͌̾̒͆́̀̃̋͋̅͊̀̊̊͝͠͝͠C̵̡̧̡̢̡̧̧̗̤̤̞̠͍̳̼͙̖̲̹̞̹͔̲̻͎̖͍͎̗̼͓͎̬̦͚͍̝̪͕̳̪̯̀́͋̇́̂͆̈́̄̒͋̋̚̕͘̚͜͝ͅĔ̷̢̛̼̤̯̳̯̩̖̟̮̣̱̬̻̖͊̑́̅͗̈́̃̔̆͌͐̃̒̀̌͒͊̏̎̿͑͊̀̃́̆̈͛͗̌̿͐́̌̅͛̾͝͝Ơ̶̡̩͈͔͉͇̮͖̯̻̟̣͈̯̖̬̏̅̀͗̍̈́̈́̂̋̑͌́̄̽̈͌̈́̽̏̐͘̚̕̕͝͠͝͝͝͠͠͝͝W̷̨̡̢̨̛̼̠͖̰̳̥̘͇͈̗̹̲͚̬͖̝͈̹̬̥̮̞̓̀̔͛̃̈̅̋̚͝L̶̢̧̛͙̻̗̦̬͉̪͚̭̳̯̼̟̙̙͍͉͙͙̇̔̾̍́͛͋͆̓̅̀̇̀͆̌̆̔̾͛̃̄̃̂̒̓̉̈́̅́͐̊̑̀̍̌͋̀́̐̒̋̚͘̕͘͜ͅA̶̧̢̖͕̣̙̺̞͇̥̦̼͉̰̱̤̺̺͔̙̹͇̭͖̞̼̺̣͙͔̼͚̱̼̞̩͋̾͛̃̇͊̄̋̏̈́͆̒̐͛̑̈́́̍͒̔͑̒̉̃́̆̐̐̕̕͠͝D̵̩̈͌̅̉͂̍̏͋̉̇̑̃̚̚̚̚̚͝J̵̧̺̭̹̯̬̰̲̭̩̙̩̮̼͖̘̺̲̮͕̹̤̞̺͍͖̙̻̰̩̝̟̖͖͗͛̍̌̓̈́̐͜͠ͅ

What is that? The sun is streaking in through the curtains, hitting my eyelids. I want to stay sleeping for just a bit longer. But I can’t.

Even when I lie face down against my pillow with my eyes closed, I’m seeing things.

ą̷̢̡̢̥͙̜̰̯͎͎͒̕h̶̛͔̣͓̥͙̞̦̤͔̹̓͂̓̓̀̂̽̃̇͒̿̿̐̎͊̄̐̚͜͠͝͠ͅṵ̶̣̦͕̙̲̤̮͚̞̻͉͕͙̜̟͊̿e̴̹̦̯͉͖̹̺͊̈̑̚y̴̭̞͚̌́̆̀̀͋̓̌̐͆̾̎̿̇̎̓w̸̨̧͈̫̺̰͔̻̥͍̖̋̇̊̈́̄͒̒̍̇͊̇̇͑̎̊̆͛͗̈̄̔͋̚͘͝͝ų̸̦̮͇̱͔̯̮̫̮̣͉̺̲̭̬̩̐̈́́̾͌̄̓̍̈́̑̑̾̈̋̇̄̈́̑͛̅͑͜͝ͅd̴̻̜̖̬̥͇̦̑̈́́̋̈́̿̋̔͑̆̈́̾͆̀̓̈́̉̑͘͠͠h̵̨̨͈̤̩̜̞̜̳̦̪̻̲͈̣̩́́̂̀͌̋́̒̂̐͂́͑͗̊̈́̽̈̿̎̎͋͊͗͐͐͘͠͝͝i̶̡̢̧̡̢̡̼̭̙̜̥̞̯̮͚̝͈̰̭̺̊͆̓͌̾́ư̸̢̨͇̖̫͈̱̔̊̇̑̐͒̋̍́̀̋̒͑̓̄̄͗͋̈́̔̏̽̌̐̑͘̕͝͝ͅf̴͎̞͙̓̓̓̋͝ư̸̺̽͒͂̿̒͋͆̿̎̀͆́̎̿a̷̧̨̛̻̺̝̗͙̠̱̤͍͋͑͛̒̑̽h̴̨̢̡̬̫̩̝̘͈̟͓͔̣̺̥̺̜̪͕̙̲̹̼̖͛̌̍̄͌̄͒̀̂̆͋͑̈́̇̿̐̉̎̓͊͂́͊̄̉͒͒͑̚͜͠ü̸̡̡̞̫͕͇̯̝̗̭̳̜̙̞͚̻̻̟͙͖̘̮̺̺͎̯̹̯̓̈́͂͒̂̅̉͘͘͘͝͝c̶̨̡̙̜̻͉̦̮͉͓͓̹͚̪̠̬͌̓̈̽͗͆̅̽̏f̶̼̆̿́̓̾̈́̃́͊͐̾͗̾͐̆͂͛̕̕̕͝͝a̷̡̢̨̨̮̥̠̫̮̖͉̲͔̯͇̼̫̼͙̪͈̤͙̟͑̾̈́ͅę̶̬̹̦͑̿͒̈́͋̈̍̿͐o̴̧͙̜͙̥̭̥͍̲͐̈́̋͜͝ḩ̷̢̧̨̡̛̪͚͉̣̺͖͖͍̳͙̤͓͎̰͇̖͍̟̹̺̞́͂̋̆͐͑̾̊̂̍̊̌̂̔̓͂̈͘̕͜͝ͅ8̸̢̡̢̡̧͕̞͕̠̰̰̘̺̝̰͖͎̜͉̗̝̗̼͖̐̄̿̿̄͜7̶̢̛̱̫̩͖̫͇̱͂́͑̀͊͐̑͊͛͒̔͊͊̄̾͗̒͛̉̈͂̊́́͐̎̒̄͝7̷̧̛̘̖̪͎̮̤̩̙̩̞̭̻̪̱̘̣̮̩͇̰͇̑͒̈́͐̄̀́̒̔͋̀̑̈̂̐̿͛̍̍̄͊̂̕͠͝w̴̢͔͖̩̼̱̺̯̮̫̱͓̹̼̰̥̎̃́̽͐̈́̄̿͜͝͠r̵̨̨̢̛̛̼̞̯̦̤̱̮̖͔͖̲̘͖͓̞̗̲͕̹̝̲̺̅̽͌̍̈́̎̉̊͠ͅh̴͍̫̫͕͈̝͔̳͍͐̑̈́̄̽́͐͑̀̚̕ę̵̥̼̰̬̖͉͔͍̭͉̞̙͐̽͛̄̕à̵̛̳̪͈͕̠͉̹̬̟̣̋̃̏͆̿̋̿̂̇̓̔̓̉̅͆̀̀͋͋̓̚̕͜͝͝͠ͅẅ̷̡̲͕̙̹͚̝̳͇͎͍͚̗̫̆̃̽͂͜͜9̵̢̛̺̱͍̱̯̰̻͒̅̆̉̍̿̉̀̈́̽̽̈́̑͌̑̚̕͠f̶̥̲̙̹̗̞̪̘̼̮͓͇̤̖̞̺͈̰͍̩̯̻͕̠͔̙̃́̇̀̀̓̀̈͊̾̍̎͊́̂̈̄͒̏̚̚͜͝ͅş̷̨̖̜͙̝̠̫̬̊͗͌̈́̃̀̃̄̀͊̿͘͝s̴̨̡̥̺̞̬͉̳̳̲̺̞͖̠̳̖̣̘͍̦̣̱͗̓͊͌͊̊̊̇́̍̉̀́̏̓͐͐͐̂͜͜͠k̷̛̮͕͍̘̙͚̘͆̏͌̄̀̔̉̎̑̒̀̾͑͋̅̃̀̕͝͝͝ͅḻ̵̠͉̺̠̤̤̹̯͍̩̞̱͓̱͙̼̩̲̠͚̰͚̈́̌͊̅̆̂̈́̃̑́͊̂͌̀̀̾͜͜͝͠͝ͅͅả̵̧̢̩͇͍̻͎̬͎̣̖͎̥̺̹̬̂͂͂̆́̑̉̈́̉̓̌̿̊̈́͑́̅́̃͝͠ͅl̴̩̈͗̔͊̏̈̊͝\̵̧͙̣̰̳̤̗̲̻̘̲̜̜̰̪̱̮̐͌͊\̷̛̦̪̲̘̜̮̦͎͓͙̫̝̰̯͎̣͙̱̘̱̫̬̜̭́͂̓̏̾̾͛̌̀͆̓̒͋̀͐̽͌̀͊̄̈́̀̐͑̿͌͜į̸̧̛̙̝̗̟̞̹̣͚͇̪͈̬̭͇̙̱̦͉̺̭̺͎͕͌͜ͅͅh̵̢̢̡̛̛̩̼̦͖͇̱͖̤̺̙̥̮̗̤͕͖͙̦̫͈̠͆͊͛̿̈̓̓̈̿̈́͊̿̒͋̊́̅̄͐̚̕͘͝í̶̢͔̙͎̥̞̗͔̺͙͉̖̤͉͒̃͝͝d̸̡̢̛̠͙̘͔̭̙̺̼̜̭̓̐̽͛̍̒̂̌͆̿̈́̒̑̔̑̚͝i̴̧͓̝͍͕̹̋̅͊̈́̈̓͊̽́̍͑̒a̸̧̢͇̙̭͉͙̜̝̙̟̫̟̥͍̻̠͌͛̿̿͑̀̍͆͂́͊͘͜͜͝h̶̛̠̞̻̥̮̘͎̝͉̥̺̬̬̩͙̤̺̮͉̑̄́̿̋̾͗͛͆̏̇̅́͝͝͝g̴̡̡̩̤̗̭̯̯̖̻͉̩͙̹̪̥̬̱̻͂̑̿̾̄̆̔̈̋̿̎̆̂͘͝ͅw̵̡̨̡̗̠̻̗͙̣̞̹̖̲̹͕̞̜̖͚̥̖̉̌̓̽̓̈́̀͊̔͗a̷̢̛̞̬̞̩͎̜͈̹̙̫͕̻̤̮͗͆̍̈́͒̏̈́͛̅f̴̘͖̻̗̝̖̈́͛̌̈̀̇̉͑͑̋͛̉̀̈́͂̌͆́̅̾̉͆̍͑͛̐̕͠͝ͅu̷͙̖̣̻̩̩͍̻͚͕̞̹̗͍̰͇̳̤̺͎̺͙͓̯̦͌̈͌̐̉̈́̒̓e̷̢̢̛̯̺͍̭͈̩̳̝͉̰͉̰̭͉̩̮̞̫͋͜ͅg̷̢̡̡̧̨̙̟͔͔͉͔̩͔̦̟͍̦̰͎̲̠̥̩̜͔̎̄̏̆͂̕ṵ̶̢̧̹͎̙̭̱͉̲͇̝̥̦̣͕̪͙͙̣̫̰̳̂̾̏̇̆̿̊͛́́̿̑́͋̄̄̋̐̓̚͘͘͜͜͠ͅe̴̢̞̟̬̼̞̰̟̺̤̞̣̽͑͛͊͆͂̑͊̏͑͂̆ą̵̧̧̢̡͕̻̞͈̟̤̠̳̙̭̖͕̺͕̠̲̥̮̩͉͉͇͛̃̄̐̓́͐̍̈́͋͛̽̊͐͗̾̕̕͝ͅd̴̙̳͍̰̬͉̳̓̎̅̔̐̓̓͑̎́̔̔̀̄̋̃͗͋́̍̅͗̃͝͝h̴̢̗̖̫̤͙̠͙̗͕̮͔̾̄̇͆̑̃͋̈̌̏̌̽͐̓́͘͘̕͝ử̴̥̳̺̓̽̆̾̂͐̄ŕ̴̛͚̟̖̞̬͓̹͔̤̣͖̟͖̘͇̝͖̩̲̼̹̬̬̱̇̈́̏̔̊̀͋́̈́̉́̌̈́́̎̒́̌̕͘͠͝t̶̛̹̖̜͖̄̌͂̄̾͂͆̅͌̑̀̆̎͆͐͂̌̓̌͊͘̚͠f̷̢̡̨̛̛̛͙̳̘̹̬͖͓͎̝̺̦͇̹̭̟̟̯̠͖̠̦̲̅̆̍́̉̍̉͑̃̌̏͑̀̅̔͆͌̐̚͘͠͝͠ͅŗ̸̥̱̣̮̩̈̈́̆͌̈́̇̑̿̽͂̑̍͐̀̿͂̇͛͌̃̍̿͐͝͝͝ẙ̷̢̢̛̛͕̠̭̩̥̫̝̤̫͖̦̰̺̮̞̙͓̥͔̝͙̀̈́̓̐̌̊̽̓̾́̆̀͆̓̃̊̃̀̈́͘͜͜h̷̡̡̹͔͙̖̜͈̹̣͇͍̯̩̩̣̭̤͝u̷̧̢͈̞̠͖̹̟̞̝̠̲̓͂͒̈́̿̂͌̄̇͂͂̐͗̑͘͝͝͝͠v̶̢̱͈̮̪̟̤͍̩̖͙̞̰̼̘̱̪͉̠̤͔̙̱̼̼͉̒̂͋̌̏̉̾̒̎̋̾̓̃̆̋͜͝͝ͅͅǹ̴̡͍̣̼̩͈̖̙̯̦̱̤̰̉̀͛̅͆͋̒̊̀͒̐̃͘͜͝b̵̲̟̣̘̻͂́͌̌̿̉́͐̊͑͆̔͒͂́̽̽̀̾̀̈́́͊̈́̍͛͠͝͝ĺ̸̡̧̢̧̜̹̯̞̮̠̯̣̗͈̤͉͙̦͎͚̮̬̺̣͉͇̳͗̅̊̀͆̂͂̇͌̂̒̓͑̃͐̔̓̉͒̈́́̏̒̏̒̆̓͝͝ͅͅͅr̷̨̧̗̗̻͓̦͎͖̗̹̹̻̮̱̳̯̻͉͓̺͎̣̹͓̖̣̀̑͒̋̌̀̚̕̕ͅͅj̴̨̡̛̛̮̙͕̬̭͓͓̼̜̪͙̝̗͉̤̇͋͆̈́͆̈̃̾͛̀̍̊̒͆́͛́̎̊͘͠͝ͅõ̷̳̪̖͈̮̣̯̥̫̟̬̺̞̩̫͍̝͔͔̰̭͍̉̉͠r̷̨̨̥̜͔̩̮̥̝͛̓͒̈̓̓̌̐̑̚ę̸̡̢̛̹̠͚̙̺͚̺̹̥̤͖̜͉͔̣̫̮̏́̎͌̋͆̆͋̉̾́̕͘j̷̨͖̲̩̝̘̩̝̖̙̙̯͖͖͓̪͓͙͙̼͉̎͆̽͜į̸̨̢͕̻̮̗̳̲͕̬͍̥̲̥̟̱͍̰̰̈́͛̏ò̴̩͕̞̜͍̟̭̹̑͒͂͂̉͛̑͌̈́͝ȇ̸̡̡̜̻͉̟͚̰̻̟̩̬͙̼̜̰ẇ̴̛̩̩͓̪̫͙̣̙̩͇͙͉̲͇̫̼̳̠̩̩̲̼̤͎͙̪̪̥̄̍̍͒͆̄̈̎͊̾̒̊͑̉̓̀̏͌̋̀̆̏͌̚͜͝͠͝g̸̨̨̛͔͔͚̟͎͍̖̘͉̩̻̟͚̰̉́͐̏̐̀̇̒͊̓̀̈́̒͒̈́̒͆́͋̈́̎͌̀̓̚̕̚͝į̶̢̮͍̲͚͎̜̞͍̺̜͔̥͉̰̹͈͒̃̒̌̚̚̚͜͝a̶̩͉̹͙͇̗͕̩̙͍̋̈̀͒̂̊̑̓̀̆̃̏̍̑͐̇͗́̐̏͘͠

Indescribable symbols fly across the black void of my vision under eyelids. They keep appearing at the end of one another, like strings of text being generated and destroyed ad infinitum.

I must still not be fully awake; this is just a continuation of whatever dream I was having. I open my eyes, sitting up in my bed and the symbols disappear.

“You’re up early.”

“I guess.”

It’s not that I’m a particularly late riser but more that Renée is a light sleeper, if she sleeps at all.

She’s worried that whatever’s going to happen to us will happen when we’re sleeping, so she’s awake most of the night I gather. Not that it isn’t a concern, I just don’t think they’d halt their plans if we were awake.

Even if it’s not early, I am up before breakfast, if we’re getting any today.

“Were you having a bad dream? You kept turning in your sleep, you don’t usually do that.”

“I don’t remember…..”

I break into a spontaneous yawn. Maybe I did have a bad dream, maybe I really am up early if I’m this tir-

Ą̵̨͖̯̱̮̜̥̺͕͍̖͖̣̥̙̰͔̳͕͈̣̙̼̣̐̋̌͌̓̑͑̽̔̇̈́̈́͌̾͂̄̋̆̉͜͝s̶̢̨̛̬͕͚̯̲̦̠̟̪̻͍͖̹̆͋́̍̑͆̄̉̇̀̓̂̓͌̑̎̃̓͑̈̇̈̒͘͘͜j̵̨̡̛͓̹͖͎̘͔̺̤̙͇͇̳̱̤͓̰̠͉̖͙̈͆̔̉̓̅̽̆̊̍̔́̚͠s̴͈̲̃̐k̸̨̢̧̛̯͓̪̰̭̼͕̫͉͖͕͉̥̙̩̣͈̀̔͛̌̈́̊͘̕͝ͅḑ̸̙̬̰͇̟͈͖̟̻͙̣͔̪̻́̇̂͊̒͑̕h̶̡̨̡̲͖̱̻͓͙̭͇͈̼̬̣̜̱̯̫̿̀̓͆̀̔͒͛̉̓̌ā̴̫̭͉͖̣̜̫̇̀̽̊̑̑͋̋̃̊̄̈́͗͆̕͝s̸͓͓̜̭̹̝͓̮͙̘̖̩̄̓́̅̄͑̇̉̐̐̀̕͜͝k̴̰͖͖͈̳̤̳͖̺͖̯͎̪̱̓̈́̆͋̿̂̓̋͑̊͌̈́͗͒̃̌̅͑͊̽̀͑͘͘͘͝͠j̴̫̺̋̈͆͛̌ḋ̴̛̘̗̗͈̝͖̤̒͌̀̎̉̇̿̇̃͂̍͆͆̐̄̓̈́́̿͑̑͑̇̄̚ͅͅg̵̨̨̢̡̫̥̗̫̟̪͖̦͎̹̫̝̝͉̣͖͍̬͓͋̐͋͑̓͂̓͗̾̇̎̂̄̓̔̆̏͂̃͌͑̑̽̚̚͝į̵̨̧̛̞̤̼̦̫̯͛̈̑̚ą̷̛̟̱͙̖͕͎͎̞͔̙̜̝̩̥̖̰̪̭͓̣̘̊̿͆̌͒̋̀̇̾̉͛̿̓̌̋́̕͠ş̸̢̤̱̙̟̠̜̪̮͚͔̠͚̹̭̞̲͇̘̊̊͐͋̓͛͆̾̇̑̑̓̚̚ͅf̸̢̛̙͕̩̬̬̺̫͇̝̳̹͖͌̔̔̾̽̏͑͛͂̀̒̍̿̕͘ŗ̷̢̧̺͖̲̹͔̥̤̭̖̝̘̜̟̳̦̜̮̘͇̲̊̿̂̓̍̈̈́̈̅̏͘i̷̡̖̪͈͉̟̰̪̞̅̓̎͋͌̉̄͗̑̊̀̓͊͗̔̂̓̚͝͠ͅͅę̴̢͈̮̳͎̼͙͍̟̠̩͔̠̦̼̒̏̅̓̾̀͊̆̃͂̎̓̅͒̐́̔͗̉̎̃͒̒͌͋͑̆̚̕͠h̴̨̡̧̫͎̲͙̘̠͍̥̫̦͍̟͍̙̞̫͇̦̳͙͔̮̐͗̅͋̈́̍́͗̇̔̄̍͗͂͒̓́̋̑̓͆̕͘͝͝ͅͅĩ̴̢̛̮̒̇̓̀̇͛̓͑̈͋̆́͛̃̎͗̓͂͘̕̕̚͝ḣ̴̨̖̟͈̻̥͕̺͉͎̰̖̟̬̣̞̺͕̟͈͍̮̙̉̈̏̃͌̾̏́́̉̒͜͝f̸̡̡̢̧̘̱̼͙̯̝̱̩̺̫̠̪͈͔̱̟̠̖͓̤͓̯̤͖̳͒̉́̊̀̅̄̔̆͜͝f̷̧̢̛͙͓̰̅̉͋͐͂̈́̐̋͌͛̿͌̅͋̚͘e̵̢̨̛̜̰̤͙̦͍̰͇͙̳̺̗̣̝̖̙̳̝̳͓̖̞̞͖̓͊̀́̿̏͐̈͌̓̌̊̈̅͜͝o̵̢̗̪̱͕͚͚̣͉̩͎̲͙̞͖̹̝̰̖̙͗̂̎́̊̀̉̂͛̇̂̿̈́͛̂̍̐̔̕͠͝͝ę̵̡̱̘͚̣̬̥̰̰̥̻̗̘͉́̀͆͗̐̊̅̅r̷̤̀̓́͆͂̒͑̇̈́̈͛̈́͂͗̕̕͠h̶̛̝̫͎̠̟̭̖͖̳͎͙̭̩̠͉̎̈́̈́͂̎̃̈́̌́̈́̍̋̇͊̆̑͗̊̈́͗̿f̸̢̢̡̧̯̖͔͈̺͖̥͇̫͇̹̖̯̗̤̤̱̌̽̽̇͜ͅř̶̨̨̫̩̱̖̘̮̯͖̖̹̘̝̝̦̼̤̗͇̝̦̄͐͌̿̓̅͗̉͐́̉̿̔̄̍͗̀̀̈̚͜͝͝͝͝į̵̭̻̣̻̦̠͓̟̟̩̱͕͍̤̘̭̫̳̟͔̘͍̰̓̓̄́͊̕͜e̵̡̡̡̢̢̖̜̻͈̻̝̫͍͍͍͔̼͔̘̱̮̔̇͘ͅr̶̡̛̪̯̼̹̪̜͚̫̣͖̹̣͇̤̝͈̻̯͍̥̜̻̣̱͆͗͒͌̃̈̃́̽͊̾͊̏͐̚̚͝͝ͅ

As I yawn for a second time, my eyes lie to me again.

I expect Renée to disappear for a moment behind my eyelids, but she doesn’t, not exactly. In her place are some of those strange symbols. She’s surrounded by them, she’s made of them, stagnant strings of those symbols wrap up a larger one that keeps replacing its first with its last.

I’m slowing down, I’m dying, no more space.

It says that so clearly.

Wait….

It doesn’t say that at all does it? Those symbols don’t mean anything, they’re not real, and even if they were I don’t know what they are. I-

“That’s the face you were making last night too.”

My eyes jump at the chance given to them by Renée and the symbols disappear.

“You had your eyes shut tight like that, like they were forced that way, sewn to your face.”

“Must’ve been a really bad dream then, good thing I forgot it, haha.”

We’re interrupted by a knock on the door. Two slow knocks, it’s the breakfast signal. That means we’re to sit up on our beds, feet off the ground, knees to our chest. If we don’t do this instantaneously, we won’t get any food, the door would close as soon as it opened.

I hear the click of the door unlocking and a tall man wearing a ski mask and glasses steps through it, holding a tray with two plates.

Bacon and scrambled eggs. No water again, that makes things a lot less plateable.

This is a new guy. They all wear the exact same clothes and the same type of mask. Can’t wear the same type of bones though, they’ve been getting progressively taller.

He places the tray down carefully in between us. As he does, I blink inadvertently and the symbols appear again, wrapping around where the man’s body had been.

In an instant, I understand many things about him. His name, his age, the state of his health. More is there just waiting for me to grasp it, but I pry my eyes back open with my fingers.

The man turns and stares at me, it takes me a second to realize why but as soon as I do I cover my face with my hands without closing my eyes.

“Heh.”

A light chuckle, thankfully he didn’t take any offence to that. As soon as he locks the door, Renée is on me.

“Were you trying to piss him off?”

“Um, no?”

“Then what the hell was this?”

She mimics what I did with her fingers. All I can do is remain silent, I can’t tell her about the symbols, I don’t want to be the first between us to admit she’s gone crazy.

“Whatever.”

She leans over and grabs the tray, splitting up the bacon and scrambled eggs onto separate plates.

She pestered me into telling her I was a vegetarian on the second or third day, when I tried choking down a bit of chicken. I didn’t want to guilt her into this sort of arrangement given the situation but she’s a nice girl, if a bit odd, she wouldn’t let me eat any meat after that.

“Here, eat up.”

She hands me the plate of scrambled eggs with one hand while wolfing down her bacon with the other. She hasn’t proven herself the most patient as of yet.

I scoop up the scrambled eggs with the bit of cardboard they give us to make a spoon out of. It’s cold.

***

It’s a bit later in the day now. The sun is on its way down and that means Renée is asleep, she tries to nap while I’m awake.

I’ve been testing out these new eyes. Well maybe they’re not new but they’ve definitely got a new feel to them. Either way, I’ve been trying to get used to them.

At first, I was scared to close my eyes, the symbols overwhelmed me every time I did. I’ve lost a staring contest with everything in this room twice over already. After a while, my eyes started to hurt too much to keep them open.

My father was a big advocate of exposure therapy, in his mind if you were scared of the dark, then you’d been sleeping with the lights on for long enough, if you were scared of spiders, then you simply hadn’t killed enough of them.

I said at first but there never comes a second.

I wouldn’t say that I’ve grown comfortable with them, that I’m no longer scared of them. It’s more like I’ve grown comfortable with being scared. The first thing that scared me about them was just how many there were. I didn’t grasp that initially; I could only focus on what was right in front of me but with the shock having passed I noticed that everything was made of those symbols. The bed, the walls, Renée, even me, all made of those hellish letters when my eyes close.

The second observation was that some of the symbols are moving. Of course, the symbols that make up my arms move when I move one of them, but it’s not just that.

The symbols that construct the walls are rigid but the ones making up Renée’s body keep changing, the strings of symbols are forming continuously without ever getting longer.

It seems that this is the difference between living and dead things as my arm is the same. The fast-moving coil of symbols in the middle of her body still concerns me, but I can’t worry about that.

I’ve been trying to see what’s beyond the walls and out the window. I can tell that there’s more beyond those symbols, but I couldn’t separate them easily at first, now I have a better grasp of it.

It’s funny, when I close my eyes it becomes easier to see through concrete but harder to see through glass.

Renée and I thought we probably weren’t the only two here and it seems we were right. I can see some very fast-moving strings down below us that don’t seem to be moving very far, that must be more people trapped like us.

Other than us and them, there only seems to be two men guarding us. I watched earlier as one of them left what I think is his guard post to cook food for the girls below us. I wish I hadn’t seen that. More than two and I wouldn’t even think of the utility of this power.

……..

Maybe I should take a closer look at Renée while she’s asleep…..

No! No no no!

I’m not comfortable knowing things she wouldn’t want me to.

‘Knowing’, seems like I’m already taking these symbols as fact. Not that I think I could live any other way anymore…….

Wait.

What’s that?

In the distance.

Someone……. Something is making its way towards the chateau. It has the shape of a body, but everything is moving too fast, the symbols are struggling to keep their form, each one trying to escape in a different direction, only stopped by some unknown, invisible force. The inner swirling coil rages like an inferno, threatening to tear through the body around it. I can’t tell any of the symbols apart. Is that thing human?

One of the two guards notices it. He pulls his gun.

“You’re trespassing on private property!”

I can hear him clearly, he shouted loud enough that it woke Renée.

“Yawnnnnn, Mallory, what’s hap-”

“Shhhhh!”

I can’t figure out what’s happening if I don’t concentrate.

“Stop or I’ll shoot.”

“Put the gun down if you don’t wanna get hurt.”

A girl’s voice comes from that thing. She’s speaking in English.

There’s a bang as the guard who’d taken out the gun shoots a warning shot just past that things head.

“What? Do you not understand English or something? Look.”

The figure gestures with its hands to indicate that the guard should drop the gun. If this really were a person, I’d think they were an idiot but looking at it I think its confidence is justified, not for any reason, just a gut feeling.

There’s another bang. This time the bullet doesn’t miss its mark. It closes the distance between them in an instant and enters the figures sku——————————

A̴̧̨̡̧̛̛̙̠̫̺̺͖̘̒͂̑̈̈́̏̕̚Ķ̷̤̳͙͎͈̬̼͙̱̆̔͊̎̍͑̽̀͊̉̾̎̚H̴̡̡̤̬̱̩̄͆͋̓̓̇̌͜͝S̷̱͚̭͋̀̀̓͝Ā̶͙̜͖̬̼̞́͑̏D̶̮̺̈́D̴̜̤̬͖̜͕̺̩̻͕͂̎͐̋̕͝͝ͅS̶͇̩̭̗͊͆͒̃͛̈́̀̈́̽͜K̶̟̮̩̿́͋̒͛̊̎̍͆̊͝ͅA̶͎͚̫̱̺͂̑͆̒̔̾͆̆͊̀͗̐͜͝Ĥ̷̛̹̩͑̈́̅͗̊̿͒̉̐͆̆̇͜͝D̴͕͍̲̭͉̥͑̌͐͝Ǎ̶̯̃̿̀̈́̆͝S̶̤͒͒̊͛͗̓̽̓͒͊͝͝͝J̵̨̡̧̡̖̞͙̖̻̹̖̬̿͊͑̏̉̉͐͑̕̚͘Ḣ̴͔̫̳͈̀́̕A̷̢͔̻̦̯͖̭͉̭̜̯̱͔̭͌͘S̸̝̤͇͎̀̏D̴̨̙͕͉̹͓̝̩̣̺̽̃́͜J̷̨̛͕̺̬̜̞͉͔̫́̆͗̀D̶̡̧̛̜̬̜̺̫̤͍̫͓̞̖̀͐̽̏̽̍͂̍̎́̾͑̃͜͠Ḧ̷͈̮͚͜Ḵ̷̡̖̪̠͇̤̱͉͉̬̤̿́̎̄̉̈̈́̆A̴̧̨̡̧̛̛̙̠̫̺̺͖̘̒͂̑̈̈́̏̕̚Ķ̷̤̳͙͎͈̬̼͙̱̆̔͊̎̍͑̽̀͊̉̾̎̚H̴̡̡̤̬̱̩̄͆͋̓̓̇̌͜͝S̷̱͚̭͋̀̀̓͝Ā̶͙̜͖̬̼̞́͑̏D̶̮̺̈́D̴̜̤̬͖̜͕̺̩̻͕͂̎͐̋̕͝͝ͅS̶͇̩̭̗͊͆͒̃͛̈́̀̈́̽͜K̶̟̮̩̿́͋̒͛̊̎̍͆̊͝ͅA̶͎͚̫̱̺͂̑͆̒̔̾͆̆͊̀͗̐͜͝Ĥ̷̛̹̩͑̈́̅͗̊̿͒̉̐͆̆̇͜͝D̴͕͍̲̭͉̥͑̌͐͝Ǎ̶̯̃̿̀̈́̆͝S̶̤͒͒̊͛͗̓̽̓͒͊͝͝͝J̵̨̡̧̡̖̞͙̖̻̹̖̬̿͊͑̏̉̉͐͑̕̚͘Ḣ̴͔̫̳͈̀́̕A̷̢͔̻̦̯͖̭͉̭̜̯̱͔̭͌͘S̸̝̤͇͎̀̏D̴̨̙͕͉̹͓̝̩̣̺̽̃́͜J̷̨̛͕̺̬̜̞͉͔̫́̆͗̀D̶̡̧̛̜̬̜̺̫̤͍̫͓̞̖̀͐̽̏̽̍͂̍̎́̾͑̃͜͠Ḧ̷͈̮͚͜Ḵ̷̡̖̪̠͇̤̱͉͉̬̤̿́̎̄̉̈̈́̆A̴̧̨̡̧̛̛̙̠̫̺̺͖̘̒͂̑̈̈́̏̕̚Ķ̷̤̳͙͎͈̬̼͙̱̆̔͊̎̍͑̽̀͊̉̾̎̚H̴̡̡̤̬̱̩̄͆͋̓̓̇̌͜͝S̷̱͚̭͋̀̀̓͝Ā̶͙̜͖̬̼̞́͑̏D̶̮̺̈́D̴̜̤̬͖̜͕̺̩̻͕͂̎͐̋̕͝͝ͅS̶͇̩̭̗͊͆͒̃͛̈́̀̈́̽͜K̶̟̮̩̿́͋̒͛̊̎̍͆̊͝ͅA̶͎͚̫̱̺͂̑͆̒̔̾͆̆͊̀͗̐͜͝Ĥ̷̛̹̩͑̈́̅͗̊̿͒̉̐͆̆̇͜͝D̴͕͍̲̭͉̥͑̌͐͝Ǎ̶̯̃̿̀̈́̆͝S̶̤͒͒̊͛͗̓̽̓͒͊͝͝͝J̵̨̡̧̡̖̞͙̖̻̹̖̬̿͊͑̏̉̉͐͑̕̚͘Ḣ̴͔̫̳͈̀́̕A̷̢͔̻̦̯͖̭͉̭̜̯̱͔̭͌͘S̸̝̤͇͎̀̏D̴̨̙͕͉̹͓̝̩̣̺̽̃́͜J̷̨̛͕̺̬̜̞͉͔̫́̆͗̀D̶̡̧̛̜̬̜̺̫̤͍̫͓̞̖̀͐̽̏̽̍͂̍̎́̾͑̃͜͠

“Agh!”

Something happens. I jump back. All of the symbols melt and the world around me skips. I have to force my eyes open to get away from it.

Renée sits across from me shifting her gaze left and right rapidly. I need to see what’s going on out there, so I shut my eyes again.

What I witness is incomprehensible. A body lies on the ground but it’s closer to me than it should be. The figure continues striding forward, now towards the guard and accompanying body. It must be a body because the inner coil is gone now, replaced by an uncomfortable empty space.

The other guard breaks his hesitation and shoots another bullet right through the approaching figure’s neck and again, all the symbols start to melt. The world skips once more so I press down on my eyelids to stop them from lifting up off my pupils.

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̿̄͋̒́̈́̌̽̆̾͛̉̾̐̇͐̂̃́̐͆̅͑͛̐̊̓́̽̍̽̀̃̔̀̄̈́̇̾̕̕͘̚̕̕̕͘̚͘͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͝͝͝͝͝͠͝͝͝͝͠͝͝͠͝͠͝͝͝ͅͅͅ

The world skips over and then I see what it was trying to stop me seeing. The bullet drops to the ground after hitting its neck and a hole opens up in the neck of the shooter. The red inner coil streams out of him and flies over to the figure, entering it through the chest.

What the hell was that? It got shot in the neck and the person who shot died!

I need to get out of here. That thing is going to kill me if I don’t escape now.

I pull at my restraints, trying to yank them off but they’re too robust, all I end up doing is hurting myself.

“Mallory, calm down, you’re going to hurt yourself.”

“We need to get out of here Renée, that thing is going to kill us.”

“What thing? What are you talking about?”

“Can’t you see it? It’s coming up the stairs, it’s nearly here!”

“What are you saying, how can you see anything?”

That’s right, I still have my eyes closed. Appearances don’t matter right now, I can’t open my eyes, if I lose track of it for a second, it’ll kill me.

It jumps up the stairs in twos. It strolls by the first room on our floor, trailing its hand along the door. It does the same with the second and then it passes by ours.

Renée must sense it too because she’s completely silent now.

The figure stops just before its trailing hand leaves our door. It walks back in front of the door and places its palm against it. It pulls something over its face and moments later, kicks the door open. Renée starts screaming but the figure ignores her and comes straight over to me. It grabs me by the left wrist, yanking me upwards.

This is how I die. I always imagined that I’d die with my eyes closed, hiding from whatever was happening to me.

Now though, I can hide from more by opening my eyes.