A sharp howl in the distance draws Jeremiah to his awakening. Seven pairs of eyes flicker red within the dense bushland, growling instantly, snapping twigs steadily with each protruding movement. His heart pounds against its cage, begging for a release from this sudden imprisonment. He’s alone, fearful and laying on the asphalt. Small pieces of gravel etch deep pockets into his stubbled cheek. He shoots upright, standing on unsteady legs as a hairless snout pushes out from the shrubs, bearing razor sharp teeth with a chesty growl.

 “Who’s there?” Jeremiah questions with harsh intention, his fear coating any confidence he thought he had as his breath grows cold in the winter mist. The creature retreats with a choked off growl, shifting about in the shrubbery, not leaving, but watching cautiously upon its prey. The night is dark, the clouds shade the moon, forbidding it to shed light upon the earth. The darkness was something Jeremiah thought he could handle, however with the crimson watchful eyes and the sudden isolation, he found he was mistaken. He felt outnumbered for a fight he could not win. 

 “I said who’s there!” He shouts. 

 ‘Only I’ The voice, so familiar yet so distant, trapped within the walls of his mind. He shakes his head and begins to run. Bare feet slapping the asphalt matching the rhythm of his beating heart. No it can not be. It’s not real. Keep it together. Rushing water fills his ears as he heads towards the bridge, glancing in the background as the howls of the hounds call through the darkness again. His lungs begin to seize as the iron casted street lamp catches his own shadow. A slender figure hangs above him and with a sharp turn he begins to walk backwards towards the bridge. His right heel makes contact with the arch of the old wooden panels, he stumbles and catches himself with a shaky hand clamped onto the rusted red painted rail, bridge creaking under his weight. Red paint chips off into his palm, sticking to the sweat that had moistened his grip. He can’t run, he knows he can’t, he doesn’t have the trust to walk forward, so he must walk back. His life depends on it. The night is silent. The trees are dead, lifeless in there designated places. Life no longer existent at all. The raging river stills as silence screams eerily through the midnight hour, filling his ears with nothing but paranoia. His heart pounds a rhythm of intense fear, his lungs refuse to work as he continues to walk backwards. The streetlamp begins to flicker and with a glance upwards a moth dances its way around the globe before floating away. A sudden shift of gravel in the distance diverts Jeremiah’s attention back to the stretch of road. There in the distance stands a man in the middle of the road, face pale and clothed in black robes. Jeremiah stares blankly at the pale figure, stricken with fear as the man begins to stride towards him, legs wobbly with the intention to move at a quicker pace, caving inwards under his own weight. Jeremiah gasps, his own legs moving backwards at a quicker pace as his heart threatens to give out. He felt the sudden rise of nausea spread throughout his stomach, the lump in his throat now refusing to be swallowed. ‘Don’t deny me, I’m here with you. You can’t deny.’ The man begins to spasm, head twitching, before he falls to his knees, black robes in a heap as the street lights begin to flicker in one final blow before the world seeps to darkness. In a blink of an eye, he is gone. The asphalt dusts up in his absence, drifting steadily away in the cool winter breeze. 

 “Who are you?!” Jeremiah screams into the darkness, hands outstretched in pure aversion and frustration, the pit in his stomach growing larger in dread for he could not see. A warm rush of breath raises the hairs on the back of Jeremiah’s neck, his fear threatens to swallow him whole as he pleads for his legs to make a move, run, do something to flee the nightmare he wasn’t ready to confront. 

 ‘I …am… you.’ Jeremiah hears it, loud and clear as if he were whispering right in his left ear. The world around him made no other sound. The night was dead. He had to move, his gut urged him to make a run, slow his beating heart before the man could return. With a sudden urge of braveness he turns around. Nothing. The electrical buzz of the distant street lights sound as they stutter back to life. One by one they restore in a dim, fluorescent orange glow before the street lamp blinks again as the brown moth returns to click against the cool glass. There’s nothing out there. Jeremiah’s mind swirls in a sea of grey, there was no other solution to his hallucinations, he was going mad.

 ‘I will always be the part of you you never wanted to know. Don’t hide from me.’ 

 “Where are you?” Jeremiah calls backing off the bridge, feet crunching in the gravel as he turns round and round, back and forth, eyes darting, but never seeing past the dense darkness of the forrest trees.

 ‘Deep Inside. You can’t escape me.’ With a sharp turn Jeremiah sprints into the forrest. Trees rush past as laughter echoes through the depths of the darkness. Eyes darting sideways as he begins to wheeze, his lungs refusing to take in the much needed oxygen. Flashes of white dance in the forrest, voices murmuring words of the untrue. 

 ‘Coward.’ He jumps logs and dodges trees before resting his back against a willow. Resting his hands on his knees, Jeremiah allows himself to lean forward to breathe. 

 “Calm down, come on, it’s not real. He’s not you. “ He coaches to himself, breathing in, holding it for five seconds, before releasing a puff of frosted mist. Common ritual. 

 ‘I am you, I have always been.’ He glances up, chest tight and the air now thick. The man stands before him, eyes dark, face pale and features just like his own. No it can’t be. The man smiles and reaches out to grab Jeremiah’s shoulder before he begins to back away. The cliff edge isn’t far, the water crashes heavily against the rocks below, hissing in a state of content before retreating.The man follows in his footsteps, edging closer and closer. A smirk dances across his features before he speaks up on a harsh exhale. 

 “You could never accept the fact that we were one. Could you?” The edge is becoming closer, the waves now louder as his left heel catches the edge of the cliff, sending stones tumbling down to the great depths. He could not fall, he hated falling. 

 “I am not you!” He screams, tears staining his face as the mans presence glitches, face smiling as he drops his head in disappointment before raising it again. His left arm swung out in indication to the cliff, eyes unrecognisable to his own as if they had already seen too much.

 “Go ahead jump, free yourself….I can’t stop you from trying, but i will be here when you get back.” Jeremiah glances down, a fear of heights was something that made his heart twist and a dark hole tear open in his stomach. It wasn’t real, he wasn’t real. Just another nightmare. In a sudden wave of bravery he takes his final step backwards. His stomach lurches in the fall, nausea begins to rise as he squints his eyes, preparing for impact.

 ‘Coward.’

 *.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.* 

Jeremiah’s body lurches forward, sky-blue eyes snap open as air fills his lungs. His chest heaves rapidly as his eyes dare not focus so soon. He coughs, tasting the saltiness as if the sea of desperation he had fallen into had been a reality. The first thing he notices is the soft warmth of John’s hand on his chest and Dylan’s loose hand on his left shoulder perched with caution. He can’t help but see the life that had been stripped from their usually tanned faces. John kneels down before Jeremiah staring blindly into his eyes, almost hoping to find the answers he was hoping to seek. 

 “Dude you alright, you blanked out.” He’s panicked. Jeremiah’s mind races back to the events. His pounding heart, the ache of his legs, the long pine trees, the darkness, falling. It wasn’t real. He had escaped.

 “Yeah man, I’m alright …it’s Just another nightmare or something.” The way their faces shift puts a cloud to the clearness of Jeremiah’s lies. Perhaps he could not pursue them. They knew him too well. 

 “Do you want to talk about it?” No, he thinks to himself. How could one even begin to explain what he was feeling, or what had even happened to himself over his teenage years to turn into such an emotional monstrosity.

 “There’s nothing to talk about.” It’s the simplest answer to being a man. Push it aside, stand little higher with hope in your heart that it will go away. After all that was his motto.

 ‘Coward’ 

 “I’m telling you man, it’s your anxiety acting out again….” John began stammering, but his words fell into the silence of Jeremiah’s ignorance. He had zoned himself out, trying to gather the events leading to his awakening. There’s a pit in his stomach, a hole so deep, he felt as if something was misplaced. Almost like a puzzle piece set in a place it was never meant to fit, he felt an unexplainable detachment to this reality. He fell for freedom, but didn’t feel any different. The long body mirror plastered to the lounge room wall behind his two friends showed himself that he did not look any better despite his escape. Face pale and hair matted to his forehead with sweat, he had to look away.

 “Jeremy?” John called, snapping his friend back into existence with a click of his fingers before his eyes. Jeremiah looks into the mirror. To his horror the spiritual doppel-ganger kneels behind him, resting his hands on top of his shoulders, cupping his friends hands. They did not flinch as Jeremiah looks at both of them in suspicion, waiting for fear to take them over. Nothing, they couldn’t see him, let alone feel his presence. The man smiles, leaning in closer to whisper in his right ear. 

 “So nearly free.” 

 “Jeremy, you alright man? You’re freaking us out.” Dylan backs away, fear written on his chubby features, sweat stains now evident in the creases of his tight blue shirt. Jeremiah gazes deeply into the mirror watching as the man disappears in a swirling cloud of grey dust. He could still feel the heavy weight of his hands resting against his broad shoulders. He could still feel his presence. They were one after all, but never the same.

 “I’m fine.” The biggest lie perhaps he had ever told, but they must not know he was suffering with a mental illness. He would not be called weak.