When You Can't Hear Yourself Screaming For Help
Looking from the window down at my half painted red nails I frowned. I bit them when I wasn’t looking, wasn’t thinking, once again. I always do though, you would think I’d be used to such by now, but it still bothered me. As small as it is, just another damn imperfection. Another flaw to add to the broken picture I suppose. I chuckled at my melodramatics, it amused me for the time being. A cough broke my small taste of enjoyment and I frowned again. Taking note once again of my unwelcome guest I looked back out the window. My back side still the only thing I’d show the figure which was seated on my lush sofa. I refer to that very figure as ‘The Fiend’. Ask not why, I just do. I continue to look out the window for a few moments, the sun is almost down, not that it much matters. It has been a drab day. Then again it’s always a drab day for me, today the weather just decided to share the thought with me. Perhaps mother nature works much the same way I do. Hmm.. The sunny disposition that just fits so well.. That fake look everyone just sits upon. When really, it’s a cover up. Because as soon as your planned day in the sun arrives, that sunny disposition disappears and that sudden downpour rainstorm sneaks up on you. Just like my moods, perfect and happy, your best friend. Right up to the moment I rip your heart from your chest and I destroy you. Don’t you know I never go down alone, ever. I snicker again, alright so maybe I’m looking a bit to far into this. Blame it on my mental instability, what can I say, you grow to humor such.
Finally turning around I look at The Fiend which still sits itself on my plush sofa. That disgusting filthy being which sits itself in front of me with that smug little look on it’s face. Fitting so perfectly into the posh settings of my house, it’s black cloths and white complection, elegant indeed, but every look makes me mentally cringe. It watches me with those cold blue icy eyes, red lips that mock me without ever showing a trace. That ever present self-satisfied look smeared on it’s face, it knows.. It knows oh so much about me. But never would it guess that I know that it knows. You see, it thinks it has me by the ropes. Haha, thinks it has me? What a joke. It’s already caught in my trap. A trap I didn’t even set mind you.
The Fiend rises from the sofa, much to my surprise. Usually it stays in one place, scared to anger me. I smirk at the thought, I love the control. Ok more than that, I live for it. I can see through that figure though, see this figure is nothing but a shadow. I glare at it for a moment as it takes a step, looks up at my glimmering chandelier then looks at me with question. Letting that smug look slip for just a moment. Oh but never fret it returns once again, if not for the sole reason of taunting me. The dissatisfaction is evident on my face I know, I feel it. I turn back to the window in frustration. The Fiend is smiling now, I can feel it eating away at the back of my head. It knows how much it frustrates me. It knows better! It steals the tactic in which I stole, and oh how it thrives on ridiculing me about such. My hand brushes against something smooth and cool, I look down. My glass of gin, half empty, once again the smirk returns to my face as I look out the window. It’s dusk, darkness is coming. I can see reflections in the window now, it acts more like a mirror, it’s difficult to look out. I raise my hand with the drink and nod to The Fiend with a smile. A silent toast is made to what will be my completion, which I chant silently of course. That ever warm smile I gave though, that is nothing but vicious, I take a sip of my drink. The Fiend does the same, enjoying the taste as it licks its lips much like I had seconds before. For some reason I feel like it’s mocking me and I return to my window.
The Fiend stands still for only a few moments before it sets its glass down on the oak coffee table. My oak coffee table, I scowl. Looking around it walks to my desk in the corner. I want to turn and stop the being. Who does it think it is? Diverging into my world. It acts as though it owns my life, that it can come and go as it pleases, that it can mess with my mind, take over my being and read into my thoughts. It knows it’s better than me in every aspect. I won’t admit it to The Demon though. It’s everything I’m not. Soon I’ll be that though. I cringe as it starts to finger through my journal. I look away. I don’t want to see her looking into my written thoughts. Yes, she. The Fiend is indeed a woman. Oooooh what a what a horrid woman she is, vindictive, cruel, manipulative... kind, passionate, caring, intense... I know all to well, I am one you know, I know how things work. I know how females think, I know how she thinks, then again I’m no ordinary woman, but neither is she.
I want to stop her so much. Right this moment I want to walk over, rip my deepest thoughts from her grasp and throw her out of my life. How I’d love to watch her suffer, watch her bleed her strength away, plead for her life. But I can’t. Remember, I’m the weak one, gutless. I can’t stop her, and a part of me doesn’t want to. I like the weakness. It’s difficult, I like making things hard for myself. I adore the pain. Frankly, a part of me doesn’t want her to stop reading. Part of me wants to edge her on. Pretty kitten, read more. I want her to know how I feel, I want her to want to help me, want to see her need.. desperation for me! Gods.. But I would never let her know. Only because then I’d push her away and detest her more. I drop my shot glass and as it shatters against the floor I smile, I see the fiend jump from the sound. I slump to the ground and turn my head to look at the fiend, my shadow. I like her fear. My oh so seductive shadow. I laugh at her as she rises, she’s shocked, she looks at me so oddly. Those cold eyes of hers are masking no more. I enjoy mocking her for once. I steal back what she stole from me, even if I stole it from her in the first place. She cries out, such startles me and I watch as red tears stream from her eyes, matching those rouged lips of hers. She throws her arms up in frustration. I watch in awe, half afraid of the sight. The other half thriving off it. I see her hands, and those red painted nails. I narrow my eyes for a split second. Hers aren’t bitten, they’re perfect just like everything else Just like I’ll never be. As her hands fall back to her sides she moves closer to me, red runs from her hands and drips onto my white carpet. I frown. As she nears me the stench of her blood sickens me and I cringe and seemingly hiss. I relish in watching her suffer, but I loathe it just as much. She finally closes in on me and falls forward, wrapping her arms around my waist. I gasp at the touch, she dares touch me? Dare look for my aid? What nerve! Who is the weak one now Fiend? Who is it!? Die, suffer. I blink and finally notice my eyes watering. I’m the weak one.. I go to wrap my arms around her, to comfort her, but she’s gone. It’s at this moment my weak mind decides to phase out, before I can panic over her sudden disappearance. Figures, I jeer at my feeble mind as blackness overcomes me.
I awake with a groan. Always waking, I scowl again, then as if on cue smile once more. Moving a bit I hiss in pain and my eyes shoot open. As things come into focus I sit up, bracing myself against the wall. Everything is covered in shadows as night has fallen. I glare up at the chandelier. My chandelier, It doesn’t gleam anymore. I can feel the shards of glass in my arm, it stings, I like it. I can feel the cuts in my wrist where I so carved them perfectly, even if I didn’t remember it. Must be The Fiend’s doing. I sit in a pool of my own blood and feel it pour out of me, my life, it’s nice. I feel weak, then again I always feel weak, now I look it. I turn my head to look at the window turned mirror and gaze at it dumbfounded for a moment. I grin and begin to laugh, oh how I laugh, then cough and gasp. Then smile a feral grin. The fiend’s reflection is all I see. She wraps me in contentment and I continue to laugh. Her affection contents me and I fall back against the wall with a smile. And as I sit there in my little posh house, with my little fucked up perfect world and bleed my life all over that once flawless white carpet. My book of thoughts resting in the life liquid I smile a true smile. The Fiend and I close our eyes. I know for once, I won’t wake up.