“You learned to run from what you feel, and that's why you have nightmares. To deny is to invite madness. To accept is to control.”

― Megan Chance, The Spiritualist

Sombra tosses and turns in his bed. After this long day of dealing with Discord again, and being dragged to another club, all Sombra wants right now is some sleep.  But, while his mind says he needs rest, his body won’t let him settle. He tosses and turns under the covers; this battle goes on for about two hours until Sombra finally gives up.  He lies still on his bed, eyes wide open and fully awake.  He turns his head to left to see what time it is.  The small digital clock reads 1:32 PM. “Perfect,” he mutters, “Just perfect.”

Sombra sits up from his bed, throws his legs to the right side while throwing his blanket off, and gets off the bed. He walks out of his room and towards the bathroom to see if some zolpidem can help him.

He enters the gray-walled bathroom and starts looking through the medicine cabinet for any zolpidem. Once he spots the white bottle, he pulls it out, places it on the white, porcelain counter and closes the cabinet. However, once he closes the cabinet, a figure appears out of nowhere behind him. Sombra is caught off guard by the figure that he nearly jumps out of his skin. He looks behind to look at the figure directly, but no one is there.

“Calm down, your mind is probably just playing tricks on you,” he reassures himself.

Sombra turns back to the sink counter and picks the white bottle up.  He opens the bottle and spills two tablets into his hand and fills up of cup water.  Just as he’s about to take the pills, he looks into the mirror again and there stands the figure from before. This time Sombra doesn’t react, he just stares at the haunting figure.

The figure resembled a woman with cob web like hair.  Her entire body seemed soaked to the skin; puncture wounds all over her arms and legs; and her eyes bore the color of a malicious blue and green. She spoke in a deep, echoy voice, “Why, why would you leave me?”

Sombra’s breathing started increasing and sweat begins to bead on his forehead. His throat becomes choked up from fear that he can barely get a sentence out. “I-I-I d-d-didn’t m-mean t-t-to.”

“You shouldn’t have left me, this is your fault,” said the woman. She reaches out her hands and places them around Sombra’s neck. The woman’s grip starts getting tighter and tighter that she is now strangling Sombra.

Sombra tries to escape the witch’s clutch but her grip is too tight. Sombra gags and coughs, he yanks and claws at the woman’s hands but it’s no use. He can feel the life leek from his body.

Sombra violently wakes up in his bed, screaming as though he is being murdered.  His breath gasping for oxygen, his body covered in sweat, and his hands shaking like a rattle snakes tail. He looks around the room to figure out where he is. He is still in bed in his bedroom. Sombra lightly clutches his neck with his right hand; it was all just a dream.

He falls back onto the bed and tries to get some shut eye. However, for the entire night, he remains wide awake with the memory of the horrid woman trying to kill him. He knows who it was but why wasn’t she blocked from his mind?