Apocalypse

Falling.

Falling, and falling, and falling. 

Didn't know where I was falling.

I was falling nonetheless.

Reality swarmed me, smothering me, drowning me completely. My mind was a mess. Almost as if a tsunami had washed over it, rendering me impotent inside my own body. 

Helpless.

"Damon?" He was calling, again. Always far off in the distance. I knew he'd come closer, though. Because they always came closer.

I blinked, but it didn't make clear the blur of colours that was Mr Farrington. I could feel myself trembling and I kept blinking to make the tears go away, I couldn't move my hands to my eyes to wipe them, though. Cement again. Cement and quicksand, like always. 

I felt something soft pulling underneath my eyes, he had got a tissue and was drying my tears. 

"Damon," he repeated, in the gentlest voice I think I'd ever heard, although it still seemed to somehow spur on the apocalypse that was slowly but surely destroying my mind. I could see him staring at me, I mean, really staring, straight into my dark eyes, trying to find something, anything, some form of response. 

If only he could see the tsunamis. 

The End

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