Gift, part 9

The eyes locked at him.
Walking, walking. Dripping, dripping.
I stand asleep.
There's no one awake at night.
Small blobs formed on the floor, red so dark it seemed false.
Sometimes I dream strange things. I guess everyone does. But do they dream as often as... daily?
That was a piece of advice you were given. Yet, this happens.
He smiled upon the possibilities of what could happen. There were so many possible places to start the incision. All that flesh standing right there, innocently waiting to be tore up. The soft touch of human skin... Slowly opening a path for the blade... The initial moments in which the only sign of entrance is the shy spot of blood that forms around. Like a crowd observing curiously as their neighbor's home gets demolished.
I've dreamt of bad things before. As everyone at least once did. You see, bad things are when it feels real and you wake up soaked in sweat, scared, with the heart exploding. Those times in which you get desperate and can't really rationalize anymore. Even if you know it is a dream, can you... Face it?
Together, always. Somehow.
The blade going up in an arc. The walls painted. A rushed brush that leaves imperfect marks. Like lollipops. Red and decided. Flowing downwards. His hand shaked, the corridor seemed unending. Yet the bedroom was just a few steps ahead. The screams exploded in his head, all those fancy sounds and the painting. He held back the need to laugh. A deranged smile tainted the face, almost as if his head tried to turn inside out through the mouth. From his hand to the floor, it fell in chunks that burst on the floor, something between solid and liquid.
Like, sometimes you feel like you are really going to die. How close have you ever been to death? Have you ever looked it in the eyes and felt it doesn't give a shit about you?
Sometimes it is good to watch how far can things go.
There he was.
But don't worry about that. Things are always the same, until you need 'em to be the same, don't you think?
Let things go until the limits. It is important to show enemies that no matter how close they get to victory, they will never achieve it.
The trail of blood was now a continuous line with thicker parts. The hand raised in the air and went down slowly. The edge walked through the chest, yet it barely touched it. He wondered how could it start. His eyes were barely visible now obscured by a grin that looked painful to bear.
I hear footsteps when I sleep. I hear they walking in the corridor. Talking. It is too easy to let hours of rest go.
Sometimes they just do not have what it takes to take the leap of faith.
That little boy, holding his breath in surprise when he woke up to that scrawny figure holding a deformed knife above him. Right above his eyes. The blade went down just as much as to poke the eyeball. That mouth opened with no sound coming, that was even better than screaming. Even better. The body trying to move when it was too late, the stiff muscles, somehow trying to get away from the bed. So young. Poked to death in a vile frenzy.
It has been like that for as long as I remember...
Or do they?
He needed it. The frenzy. The feeling of overpowering someone. Assaulting them when they are most fragile. Bleeding their bodies dry. His eye blinked fast. The arm suddenly swung up prepared to rip that one to shreds.
I wonder if, someday, when I need to wake up because my life depended on that, will that change?
Impressive. He really made it this far. How obnoxious of him.
His hand delved into nowhere. There was just darkness ahead of him. Wondering where did the human go, he took his hand close to the chest. It all started to feel weird. His mind tried to understand but his need to cut flesh couldn't allow reason. Like a spoiled child that had the favorite toy taken away, he screamed. What seemed to be a small hand entered through his mouth. He couldn't see it, but he also couldn't close his mouth anymore. Trying to let the air pass exclusively through the nose, he moved back to the door.
Have you ever wondered about the things that happen when you sleep? If perhaps the darkness came alive?
Too easy.
It felt like a sledgehammer had just hit his cheeks from inside. A painful blow that later took him back inside the room. Suddenly, he could close his mouth once again, but half his face seemed to be crumbling. Blood flowed through his cheeks as he stood up. He finally realized what had he just done. But it was too late. Dizzy, he walked back to the door, mumbling words that begged for forgiveness. The vision blurred. Something looked at him curiously. After three steps backwards, he fell.
I know this might be silly, but, what if, right?
How long can you last?
With the vision recovered, he saw the figure in the darkness watching him. He tried to get back up, but it was futile. His pants were getting strangely wet. It turned reddish. The eyes now stared close by, he tried not to look at them but fingers forced his eyes open. And somehow inside those eyes he saw a tiny hand, entering through a mouth. The hand became thinner and thinner, as it went deeper. The walls were moving, beating. Suddenly, spikes sprung around the arm, making small holes in those walls. And it went like that all the way down. When it ended, he realized. But consciousness was something he had not anymore. And blood soaked the floor.
Like right now, there's this old bony corpse right at my bedroom's door.


–Just what the fuck is going on?!
–Do not worry, he cannot harm you anymore.
–Who is he?!
–He was... Some other entity that took notice of you.
–Of me?! Why?!
–You know why. Remember what she told you at the elevator?
He gasped. Was it there? There was light inside the elevator, he couldn't be there.
–Exactly. That was a lame trick. I knew there was something wrong. You acted strange.
–So it is true, you're just, using me somehow.
–That does not make me justice. I see it as a deal. Your energy moves me, and I bring you company.
–I don't need no company.
–Oh, really? You seem to forget what passed through your head all these years.
–I can be ok by myself.
–That is not over the table now. Also, you purposely forget how you are always uncomfortable in the presence of your fellow... Humans.
–Not always, I have the circle!
–You had it! But they got their own lives! And you get angry because you are a spoiled child, you wanted more of them! I can give you more!
–More?! You bring me undead smiley spirits as company! I don't NEED IT!
Knocks on the door.
–Are you okay? What is going on?!
Parents...


His parents were worried about him. But he did not know any way to end that. They didn't talk too much, just the ordinary. There seemed to be way too many things to think and that made his head hurt. There was she, but she was dating another guy now and he had to take her out of his head. There were things he had to study, yet it seemed that the university would go on a strike. There was... Daven. And some of his friends already stated that there seemed to be an abyss around him, no one could come close by.
He looked at the ceiling all Saturday. Until the night came and with it, something more to trouble his thoughts.
–Smiley spirit?
–What?!
He turned over to see who bothered him.
She looked sad. Yet the forced smile on her face was still present.