The light flickered in the bathroom as I brushed my teeth. Willing my eyes not to look up at the mirror. Harder and harder I scrubbed, trying to forget what today is. The day which decided my fate.
When the taste of metal filled my mouth, his handsome yet devilish face appeared. Of course, he would be the one I saw. I never saw much blood unless it was with him.
My hands shook and I groaned at the sight of his face in my mind. Deceitful eyes filled up with tears for something I wished to forget.
“It’s all your fault!” I wailed at myself.
Oh God, stop thinking about that. He’s not here.
I let out the same ear-piercing scream I did ten years ago, but once again, nobody heard me. Only I could feel the burning of my lungs. To feel something other than this, I raised my hand and banged it into the glass mirror.
Immediately, shards pierced my skin but I felt nothing. Nothing, such a simple word but filled with the most sorrow.
Suddenly, I heard a scraping noise from down the hall, which pulled me from my thoughts. Like always, his haunting face is the first to appear in my mind. I’m safe, I have to remind myself.
Looking down at my hands with shards of glass sticking out, I inhaled quickly. But the creaking noise appeared again so I took a deep breath, turned around, and walked into my bedroom. Putting my bloody hand to my mouth, I let in a shaky breath.
There, on the bed, was the same outfit I wore that horrible day. It was blood-soaked and I squeezed my eyes shut. It’s fine, I’m okay.
Looking over at the door to my bedroom, I was not surprised to see it open. With small steps, I walked forward until I stood between the doorways. Shakily, I took one step forward into the pitch-black hallway. I felt around the walls for a light switch, not realizing my blood was staining the walls.
The noise came again from one of the rooms, distracting me from finding the switch. Slowly turning in the direction of the staircase, I took one step forward.
“Anyone there?” I called hoarsely.
Of course, no answer. Just nothingness. Taking small immeasurable steps, I walked to the steep, rickety staircase. Right as I was about to walk down, I saw in the corners of my eyes that the curtains near the window at the end of the hallway were moving.
My feet slipped in my haste to get away and I fell on the floor. Still feeling nothing, I tried to scramble backwards away from the curtain.
Something was standing there. Something human-like.
Then the wind came. Sucking in the curtain which showed me nothing. Panting in relief, I quickly stood up and stepped onto the creaky staircase.
There was a noise from downstairs and I reminded myself, it’s not him. He’s dead.
But the noise came again when I was on the ground floor. I grabbed an umbrella from the stand and held it up as I walked into the dimly lit kitchen.
My hands shook and I gasped.
He smiled as he turned his enormous body towards me.
“This can’t be! You’re dead… the doctors told me that you’re dead,” I muttered to myself.
He demonically chuckled and I dropped the umbrella in shock, “Do I look dead?”
No, no, no. He can’t be back. It’s been ten Godawful years.
“Stop it,” I held out my hands as he came closer.
He laughed pushing my hands away easily, “I would never hurt you my sweet, little thing.”
I choked as memories from that night came back. Me walking to the hospital. Him grabbing me and pulling my struggling body into an alleyway. The way he grasped my body parts and tore my clothes. And the screaming. Oh God, the screams which I let out.
“You’re dead,” I muttered.
He brushed the hair out of my face, “Do I look dead to you, my sweet, little thing?”
He’s dead. I saw his body! “You’re dead!” I screamed.
It was rather easy to push him away and he fell onto the ground. I ran and grabbed a knife. Staring at his helpless body, filled me with glee as I raised my arm and slammed the knife down into him.
He gasped with blood gushing from his mouth. I smiled for the first time in his presence and raised the knife over my head again. Over and over, I brought it down into him.
Blood splattered all over me and choking noises came from him. “Die! Die! Die!” I frantically stabbed him.
I spat at him and pulled at his flesh. I wrote words into his skin like he did mine.
Then, I stopped and let out a breath of relief. He was finally gone. I made sure of it. I was about to stand up until I looked down at the body again.
But the body was no longer his. Instead, it was replaced by that of a ten-year-old boy. “No, no, no,” I gasped. “Please, come back to me my sweet, little boy. Come back to mama!”
I held onto his shoulders and tried to shake him but nothing happened. His lifeless eyes just stared up. Please, God why? Tears streamed down my face as I hugged him to my chest. No, no, no.
Like a blank slate, I stood up, slowly picked up his body, and carried him like I did when he was a baby. I cradled him to my breasts, saying, “It will be alright. We’ll be together again.”
I walked to the cliff where we used to play. I always told him to stay far away from the edge. Never wanted him to fall off. But now, I went straight to the precipice. I stared at my son in my arms. Finally, I no longer felt nothing, and I jumped.
