‘The way forward is dismal and still, stray cans and bottles litter the floor and hand from the ceiling. Effectively acting as alarms, there's a faint insistent whispering filling their ears as they try to move forward, they don’t recognize the voice and they can’t afford to listen, right? Hesitating, the witch nearly chokes when they feel a touch. Terrified, the witch instantly they have whoever it is under them, one hand on the stranger's throat and the other raised, ready to kill if necessary-’
-before everything comes rushing into focus as they wake up. The concerned,, murmuring dolls around them, and their friend underneath them. Eyes wide and breath coming short, the witch stiffly forces themself to loosen their grip and back off. Managing to move to the edge of the bed before their limbs get heavy and they’re gripping their arms far too hard just to assure themself that they’re awake and not ....not back there. Which is stupid, they know it’s stupid. But they’re still shaking. Still expecting pain.
“’M sorry,” they rasp, realizing they’re letting this happen In Front of someone else “ ‘M fine. Ya can go.”