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Mr. Danya
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No, no, no…

Why? Why couldn’t he just be alone, just for a moment? Why wouldn’t the universe just cut him some slack and leave him be? Why did this shit always happen to him?

Sandy was staring at Nancy (whom he did not recognise in the slightest, but he didn't care about that anymore) as if she was some vile mess on the floor. The decaying blood she was covered sent more screams through his brain, as all the images kept flashing across his thoughts, leeching off of yet another grim reminder in this nightmare.

A terrible thought occurred: was she even real? Was this all just some psychotic delusion brought on by his imploding mind? Was he going to start seeing bloodstained girls everywhere he went from now on? It all seemed too contrived to be really happening.

Real or not, though, she was swinging an axe at Sandy’s face.

Reflexes kicked in as he raised his hands, catching the handle of the hatchet inches from his flesh. There was a moment where the two locked eyes, as Sandy processed what was going on, what he was holding on to, before he yanked the weapon and swung the girl out of the room with a defiant roar. Both Nancy and axe were thrown away as the hatchet slipped out of his grip, flying off into the darkness and making a resounding clang against a distant wall.

He stood there in the doorway, chest heaving as every inch of his form screamed to stop what he was doing before it couldn't take anymore. Then he lunged.
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