The not-so beginning.

I begin about three years into my schizophrenia, after my main problems have been resolved. This is the first of my dreams since I "forgave" myself. These are, in reality, nightmares.

*Khu-tungggg*
A sound reverberated in the muggy space surrounding my ears, as hearing was first to come conscious. Only that sound rang out like a bell before-
*Ki-riik*
"Ghu...?"
A manly grunt came after an ear wringing screech of metal tearing through metal. I began to open my eyes aswell as move my fingers and toes restoring feeling to them: a warmth dripping on my feet. Above me stood a man against a backdrop of a black smoke and fire consumed sky, white particles of snow fluttering about. Raging fire billowing off the beams of the house behind his wavering body, that consumed most of my attention and field of vision.

I felt my mouth dry and open when I saw this man dressed in what would seem to be plate armour. He had black hair or brown hair much darker in this light, except his was covered in this thick snow: rather dark brown eyes, almost souless, staring at me in a hopeless way.

I then noticed one pecularity that shone in the fire, a long thick sword in his left shoulder. Dug deep, his shoulder and arm only likely kept on by the leather belt buckles that also held his shoulder plates in place. The armour provided little protection for no explainable reason, and his clothes looked as if they were sewn with high quality dark purple dye. On my second thought this was his blood staining him and dripping onto my foot like an IV.

I watched this man just die, his soul leave his body, after having watched it shatter in his pupils. This was his home, this was his birthplace and his family's too. I knew this. Before I had a similar sword driven into my chest with a dull unclimatic *thud* I managed to grab a handful of snow that left many dots of ground exposed. Coughing and rendering the ash in my hand red before fading into death.

*BEEP* *BEEP* *BEEP* *BEEP* *BE-SLAM*
The thing to replace my "PTSD" and my triggers of immense fear was, rather childishly, my alarm clock. When one would play that tone my heart and mind would clench in fear for a split second. Perhaps I feared school, perhaps I feared waking up in the first place. I curse and thank myself everymorning for putting it too far away to turn it off with ease, and too close to actually make me leave the bed. I sat on the edge of the bed and looked down at my bottle of sleeping aid. Shovelling no less than five into my mouth to start the day off.

This is how I started to live after my flashbacks and constant nightmares stopped. After I "forgave" myself for the blood that has never soaked "my" hands but the hands of another. I became mundane, and after being left alone and having no one to save me from constant thought, I turned to sleeping medicine and drink. This was my first nightmare since I forgave myself, the first to materialize a personification of my few, yet greatest, fears.
Inevitability
Patterns and cycles
Love
Loss
All a part of-
Life.

Author's Note

I wrote this in my head for about a week on and off. I don't expect perfection of myself and organization. But I hope you've enjoyed the read.