SZ Bethany had a horror dream that Lynette beats her well and now she's in a serious condition and is admitted in the hospital...🥲 Watch full skit in the first comment and see what happened next 👇

  Bethany had a horror dream that Lynette beats her well and now she's in a serious condition and is admitted in the hospital...🥲

AS DF

Bethany woke up screaming.

Her throat burned, her sheets were twisted around her legs, and her heart slammed against her ribs like it was trying to escape. The room was dark except for the pale orange glow of the streetlight bleeding through the curtains. For a moment, she didn’t know where she was. All she could feel was pain—dull, heavy, everywhere.

Then she remembered.

Lynette.

In the dream, it had started normally. Too normally. The kind of normal that makes your skin crawl only after you wake up.

They were standing in the old community hall, the one that had been abandoned years ago. The air smelled of dust and something damp, like mold and rust. Bethany had called out Lynette’s name, her voice echoing too loudly, bouncing back wrong.

Lynette stepped out of the shadows smiling.

Not a warm smile. Not even a fake one.

It was stretched. Tense. Like it hurt her to hold it.

“Why are you shaking?” Lynette asked in the dream, tilting her head.

Bethany tried to answer, but her mouth wouldn’t move. Her legs felt heavy, like they were sinking into the cracked concrete floor.

Then Lynette rushed her.

No warning. No words.

The first hit knocked the air out of Bethany’s lungs. The second sent her crashing to the floor. In the dream, every sound was too loud—bones knocking, breath wheezing, the sharp echo of Lynette’s footsteps as she circled her.

“Wake up,” Bethany begged. “Please wake up.”

But dreams don’t listen.

Lynette’s face never changed. No anger. No rage. Just calm, methodical cruelty. Like she had planned it for a long time.

When Bethany finally woke, she swore she could still feel hands on her shoulders.

---

By morning, the pain hadn’t faded.

Her head throbbed. Her chest hurt when she breathed. When she tried to stand, the room tilted violently, and she collapsed back onto the bed, dizzy and nauseous.

That’s when the fear crept in.

Dreams weren’t supposed to leave bruises.

Her phone buzzed on the nightstand.

A message.

Lynette: Did you sleep okay?

Bethany’s blood ran cold.

Her vision blurred, and she dropped the phone. The next thing she remembered was the sound of someone shouting her name and the world dissolving into sirens and flashing red lights.

---

The hospital ceiling was too white.

Bethany stared at it as machines beeped softly around her. Her body felt wrapped in invisible weights. Every movement hurt. Her mother sat beside the bed, eyes red, hands clenched tight.

“You collapsed,” she said softly. “You scared us.”

A doctor explained things in careful, measured words: concussion, internal bruising, severe exhaustion. “It’s serious,” he said. “But you’re stable.”

Bethany nodded, but her thoughts were elsewhere.

Because she hadn’t told anyone the worst part.

When the nurse lifted her sleeve to check the IV, Bethany saw faint bruises blooming along her arm—finger-shaped. Too precise. Too real.

That night, sleep came whether she wanted it or not.

And the dream continued.

This time, she was already on the floor.

Lynette crouched beside her, brushing Bethany’s hair back almost tenderly. Almost lovingly.

“You shouldn’t fight it,” Lynette whispered. “You never wake up on your own.”

Bethany tried to scream, but the sound came out as a flatline beep.

---

She woke up gasping, the monitor beside her bed screaming in alarm. Nurses rushed in. Lights flashed. Someone called her name over and over.

As they settled her back down, Bethany turned her head—and froze.

Lynette stood in the doorway.

Smiling.

The doctors didn’t seem to notice her.

The nurses walked right past her.

Lynette raised a hand and gave a small wave.

Bethany tried to speak, but only one thought filled her mind, cold and absolute:

This isn’t just a dream anymore.

And somewhere deep in the hospital, a monitor beeped again—slow, steady, counting down the next time Bethany would fall asleep.