A / N: Nope, I guess I can't help it. I surrender
As you can probably guess, I had another nice little nightmare xDD
And then I watched Pretty Little Liars today and I said EY! The theme song! Somehow it fits ... damn ö. Ö And then I used it for it, and "carried on" the dream a little with my sick imagination ^ w ^
If you have time and don't know the intro yet, you should listen to it, because I think it sounds sick and dangerous


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You swore you'd never tell ...
You swore you'd never tell ...

Got a secret
Can you keep it?
Swear this one you'll save
Better lock it in your pocket
Taking this one to the grave
If I show you then I know you
Won't tell what I said
Cause two can keep a secret
If one of them is dead ...

Yes two can keep a secret
If one of us is…. Dead.

- The Pierces - Secret

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It had been a normal day. Really. And suddenly it had stopped being normal and turned into a single nightmare. I wonder how this could happen.

Not that there wasn't any sign of it beforehand. If you saw it that way, it had already started when I looked in the mirror for the first time that morning. It was a night behind me when I slept badly, tossed around, and had nightmares that I didn't even remember at the end of the day. Accordingly, my reflection in the mirror looked worn out. The long blond hair looked as if I had stuck a finger into a socket while a bucket of water had been emptied over me at the same time. On good days there was a kind of happy glow in my dark blue eyes, at least I remembered someone saying this to me, but that glow had completely faded. I had never been this pale either, even if my skin was never particularly tanned.

I hadn't thought about it any further. Why? I had a bad dream. Nobody thought anything of it when, for once, they remembered nightmares. So instead I got ready for school and tried to cover up as much of the dark circles and worry lines as possible with make-up.

When I left the house it wasn't really light. It was the beginning of spring and the sun didn't seem to have got used to the fact that it was now time to come on the scene earlier. Like every morning since the death of our parents, my sister was already out of the house because she was the only one of the two of us who was already fully able to work. Our parents were murdered 2 months ago and there was no evidence of a murderer. Strangely enough, no evidence of a violent crime either, which was the irony, after all, it was a violent crime. The police assumed they had passed away in a deep sleep, with enough sleeping pills in their blood to be unable to wake up anyway.Do not get me wrong. I wasn't heartless for thinking so blatantly about my parents' deaths. It was just time to move on and let the dead be dead ...

The next signs were waiting for me at my school. At first I persuaded myself that I would not feel the looks that practically followed and perforated me as soon as I took even one step over the entrance threshold. Why should you watch me? That was nonsense ... Because of my parents? No. Impossible. A few days ago everything was fine again. If anything, I should be the one who was still feeling weird. But that's exactly what I didn't do. I was doing as well as I could be. At least as things stand now. So I gathered the notebooks and files I would need from my locker and headed to my classroom.

It did not get better. On the contrary. Our teacher, Mr. Martens, wasn't in the room so it was only student eyes staring at me as I was about to enter the classroom. If they had just talked and mumbled to one another, the conversations were invariably silent at that moment. There was… sadness in her eyes. In some also a mild shock. I couldn't tell why.

"Are you looking at me like that? Why? Has something happened that I don't know about?"

I drummed my fingers uncertainly on the books I was holding against my chest and bit my lip lightly as I stood there. I considered smiling, but decided against it. It felt wrong. So I decided to stubbornly march to my place.

I could feel the eyes slowly turning away from me as I dropped into my chair and fixed my own gaze downward. I've never been a very shy person, but it felt really uncomfortable. I didn't even know what was going on, and I had a clue that it was inadvisable to ask ...

I thought I'd have some rest for now. That it ended prematurely. I was wrong. Because the real nightmare is just about to begin.

While it seemed difficult for them, most of them had been forced to go to class, the rest at least pretended to be. Until it happened. In the middle of the lesson, Ned, a rather nondescript boy in my class, got up abruptly. I shared precious childhood memories with him, but they just drifted apart. Now, I didn't have much to do with him. We didn't even have a greeting in the school hall left for each other. He had black hair that fell in a wavy manner over his forehead and greenish-brown eyes. He wore silver-gray glasses and generally dressed exactly as one would expect from a nondescript person.

Mr. Martens looked at him slightly perplexed and didn't seem to know what had suddenly gotten into the boy. “Ned? What do you need?” The addressee could probably be happy not to be hit harder.Martens was one of the less strict and relaxed teachers.

But Ned didn't answer. I had a bad feeling. As if I knew something was about to happen. Something incredible, something shocking, and maybe something ugly. The black-haired man slipped out of his bench without a word and went forward. There was something lethargic about his steps that reminded me of a zombie and would have made me laugh if this feeling in the pit of my stomach hadn't gotten stronger and stronger.

I looked around briefly and inconspicuously. The others looked much more irritated than concerned or even scared. So was I the only one feeling weird? I swallowed. My throat was dry and nauseated. Why?

Ned stopped right in front of the teacher's desk. He didn't turn around and looked straight at Mr. Martens. With his back to us, I couldn't see or read his expression. I had to stick to myself anyway, not to bob restlessly up and down in my bench or to storm outside. What was wrong with me today ... or with everyone else?

Suddenly Ned collapsed. He fell on his knees in front of himself and could say that he was lucky not to have come up unhappy on the table top. He gasped like he was having trouble breathing. He didn't have any. He never had asthma as a child. I knew that. And then he vomited. While he was doing this, making tortured, noisy choking noises, some of the students jumped up and pushed their way to him. His few friends, and the more helpful ones. Mr. Martens was also cured to him and was now trying to find out what was wrong with the black-haired man.

I felt a deep shock in my limbs, but as more and more got up and blocked my view, I too slipped out of my bench and approached the boy, who still sounded as if his last hour had struck.

When I saw him, I pressed my hand over my mouth as tightly as I could. I was happy that no one could hear my breath rattling with fear as I stood and felt my eyes widen in shock. A high-pitched scream fought in my throat to get air but I pushed it back with all my might. That couldn't be true! It just couldn't.

Black, slimy, tough lumps shot out of Ned's throat and hit the floor with a soft clap. The mass that arose from it wobbled, ate its way through, and grew rapidly in size. Small bubbles rose occasionally from the black, but burst before they could fully reach the surface. It looked like this mass was ready to be etched through any obstacle that stood in his way, including Ned's own body.

The black-haired man threw himself on his back in despair, gasped for air, coughed. As he did so, he released tiny black droplets that hit Mr. Martens' face, who had bent over his student in alarm to help him.He didn't seem to want to understand that he couldn't do that ... When the drops hit the teacher's cheek, I saw them steaming, no matter how small they were, decomposing skin and flesh there. I was trembling all over and could feel hot tears running down my cheeks. How on earth could he not notice? It had to hurt like hell, even if the places were comparatively small ...

Ned's hand also fell limp into the black mass. The devil's stuff did nothing to enclose the hand, it was much more like it was sinking into the dark, and after a while being spat out again when interest in it was lost. Like a dog that was getting bored of further tattering its toys ... And indeed; The crowd avoided the hand when it was done. Or rather what was left of one hand. Namely the now exposed bones, which had turned an unhealthy and yellow hue. Was it because some strange acid had attacked them? Ned hadn't moved for a while now. He had also stopped coughing. Maybe also to fight for his life. I watched Martens slap the boy's cheek over and over as if it might revive him.

I could feel my legs buckle in fear as I forced my gaze away from the corpse. It was hard. And a mistake. Because I looked past them to the blackboard so as not to have to look into the terrified faces. Now there was a sentence that had been scrawled there in a hurry and with red chalk:[i]"Two can keep a secret..."Briefly a smiling appeared before my inner eye Girl up. I didn't know it, but it seemed amused by my fear. Then it disappeared again as quickly as it appeared.

That was the moment I couldn't stop screaming. I screwed up my eyes and heard a high-pitched screech exit my throat. It was suddenly so quiet ... I opened my eyes sobbing and saw that they were watching me. There was shock on their faces, but incomprehension. They looked at me with confused eyes. And then I understood. They didn't see it.