After Alice left, I broke down completely. Everything became overwhelming, and the images in my head wouldn't leave. The voices and nightmare-inducing visions haunted me relentlessly. I don't know how long I stood there, but the sound of a car parking brought me out of my thoughts.

I headed towards the kitchen and started to prepare dinner. As I did, I heard the front door open and close. It was Mom.

"Hey, Brandon. How was school?" she asked.

"It was fine," I replied flatly.

We stayed in silence for a few minutes. The awkwardness filled the air. I turned back to making dinner, already used to this never-ending cycle.

I wished I could have the kind of relationship other kids had with their parents. But the broken trust and disbelief from my parents, along with them sending me to a specialist, broke any trust I ever had in them.

I finished making chicken Alfredo and a fresh salad, placed the food on the dining table, and made my way to my room. But I was stopped by a hand grabbing my bicep. I took a deep breath and waited for the conversation that was bound to happen.

"Are you ever going to talk to me, Brandon?" Mom asked, her voice strained.

I sighed and removed her hand from my arm, turning to face her. I put on a mask of indifference, refusing to show any emotions.

Seeing the lack of expression on my face seemed to bother her. "We have nothing to talk about," I told her, leaning against the wall.

I could see her frustration growing. She walked closer, almost pleading. "Brandon, please. You can't keep cutting your father and me out of your life. I know you didn't like that we took you to get help when you were younger, but we did what was best for you as your parents."

I laughed bitterly. "So sending your child to a mental institution is helping? Allowing your kid to be heavily medicated is helping? Hearing your child scream and cry for you every day is helping? That's bullshit! Helping me would have been having my parents by my side."

Her face paled, and her eyes filled with tears. "We didn't know what else to do, Brandon. We were scared for you. We thought it was the best way to help."

I shook my head, my anger boiling over. "You didn't help me. You abandoned me. You left me alone to deal with everything. And now you want to act like everything's fine? Well, it's not."

She reached out to touch my arm, but I pulled away. "Brandon, please. We love you. We were trying to protect you."

"Protect me?" I shouted, my voice breaking. "You didn't protect me. You made everything worse. You made me feel like I was crazy, like I was a burden. And now you want to talk? It's too late for that."

Tears streamed down her face, but I couldn't bring myself to care. "You don't understand, Mom. You never will. You think you did the right thing, but you didn't. You broke me."

Her shoulders slumped, and she looked defeated. "I'm sorry, Brandon. I really am."

I didn't want to hear any more excuses. I turned and walked away, heading to my room. As soon as I closed the door behind me, the weight of everything hit me like a tidal wave. I collapsed onto my bed, sobbing uncontrollably. The images from the forest, the woman's terrified face, the blood... they wouldn't leave my mind. The voices echoed in my head, begging for help, tormenting me.

I felt like I was drowning, unable to breathe. My whole body shook with fear and grief. The darkness that had engulfed me in my visions seemed to seep into my very soul. I wanted to scream, to release the anguish inside me, but all that came out were choked sobs.

I lay there, trembling, as the nightmares replayed over and over in my mind. The terror I felt in those visions was all too real, and I couldn't escape it. I clutched my head, trying to force the images away, but they clung to me like a shadow.

Hours passed, and I was still trapped in my own personal hell. The sense of doom was overwhelming, like a heavy weight pressing down on my chest. I couldn't shake the feeling that something terrible was coming, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

As I lay there, exhausted and broken, I remembered what the woman in my vision had said about red eyes. It couldn't be real. Vampires were just fiction... right? But the fear gnawed at me, making me question everything I thought I knew.

Eventually, the exhaustion took over, and I drifted into a restless sleep, the nightmares still haunting my mind. One thing was certain-this was just the beginning, and whatever was coming, I wasn't ready for it.