Oh right, here is a one-shot from Altaïr, the Assassin's creed character, that I don't own. I'm spanish, so sorry if there are any mistakes. =)

Phobia

When night comes, and I have the occasion to rest, I lay down with my eyes open until sleep comes. I wait. I fear. I fear closing my eyes because of what could happen. Over the years, it has been something that has been growing night by night.

Maybe it sounds obsessive, paranoid, childish. My fears are more complex than anyone's, for I don't fear what could come and consume my life, but the vulnerability. My vulnerability.

And when I finally get to sleep, and I close my eyes slowly, when conscience leaves my mind, and my guard, as a stone fort, as a deer that drinks from a river, is left down, is when I start feeling that I drown. That I can't breathe. And I open my eyes.

But what I see is not the darkness of the night, but only water, as far as the eye can see, over me, under me, surrounding me. Motionless, waiting until the very last bubble of air leave my mouth.

I try to emerge, to swim straight up. I am two meters under the surface, I can do it. But when I start moving my feet to emerge, I feel how something grabs my legs, oppress them, keep them from moving.

I imagine sea monsters, the monsters wise men talk off, the ones at the line where the world ends.

However, when I turn to look, I find hands, white, cold, bony. Hands, at least seven pair of hands pushing me down. I look at them, to find the cause of my oppression.

Then, I find the man who taught me everything I know, I find my best friend's brother, whose death was, indirectly, caused by me, I find my worst enemy, leader of Templars, I find the beggar killed by me because of the loss of my patience…

But these are only the ones who are grabbing me, under them; there are more than a hundred of them. Soldiers, men, women…all of them extend their arms, they are waiting…

And while I am dragged down, the last drop of oxygen emerge to the surface that I will never reach.

Redemption.

And then I wake up, the sun bathing my face, and a drop of the same substance that moments before wasn't letting me breathe, now is sliding down my cheek.

Because from the very first moment that I stole the live of a man, I started to sink.

And my worst fear is touching the water knowing that now, I will sink forever.

So, there is it. Isn't it dramatic?

Read and review, and thanks to all my readers!

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