The fear within you swells to bursting and then--you are in a tiny dark box, all the walls close around you, your chest feels tight, you feel like you can’t breathe. You feel like you’re in this box for hours, days maybe, you cannot tell the passing of time, what you know is the bottom of the box is wet and stinks of blood, but when the box finally opens you can barely move.

Above you are the faces of men, many leering men reaching to drag you out. You cannot move, you are too weak, too delicate, too drained. But you can see that around the box are the bodies of those you care for, your clothes dripping in their blood. You could do nothing for them. Were they alive, bleeding out while you were in that box? This haunts you.

The fear and the helplessness burst from your chest like your heart is failing, producing a faceless creature clothed in white, a bloody caricature of a bride that feasts on the bodies of your loved ones, growing stronger as you grow weaker.

The thing scuttles away, leaving you shaking, unable to breathe in the hold of strange men, and the terror intensifies--

The vision fades but the terror, and the disorientation remain. You can feel the thing lurking, waiting to return.