moomitheartist

[moomitheartist]

Reoccurring Days- A Psychological Horror

An edit a friend made to advertise an upcoming story!

[moomitheartist]

-The World is Glitching-

A spurt of gore coated the front of Brendan’s jacket as he smashed his metal bat into the skull of the rabid, neurotic man, who then collapsed to the dusty ground in a messy pool of his own fluids and clumps of brain matter. Cadell stabbed a rusty metal pipe into his assailant’s jaw with a grunt and wrenched it around until a wide, steady stream of dark red began soaking the woman’s shirt at a speedy pace, then pulled his weapon out and kicked the gurgling and twitching body away with the toe of his boot. The few remaining cannibalistic, deranged people stumbled closer as they drooled and growled with the desperation of a family of starving dogs.

Their sense of reason and logic was absolutely enveloped by the primitive desire to feed and fend off their inevitable starvation for even a little while longer; they were as good as animals at that point thanks to their prominent lack of food, and so they couldn’t care less about the obvious death that they would face at the hands of Brendan and Cadell- that, or each of them equally believed that they would be the only survivor, blessed with a filling and tender meal.

However, they were all utterly mistaken. Each individual was killed off by the two teenage boys until only one remained- a tiny, petite girl who foamed and frothed at the mouth with gruesome infections of many kinds covering her weak body. Her previously blond hair was matted with mud and infested with strange parasites beyond recognition, and her watery, foggy eyes were swollen and red thanks to the many miniscule pesticides that burrowed into her pupils and decaying brain.

You may have even felt bad for the young girl, if she weren’t trying to tear you apart and feast on your body. She stumbled closer to the pair while softly growling meaningless and slurred curses that simply evaporated into the stifling air that lazily swirled around them. As soon as she was only a few feet away, Brendan swung his bat at her head, causing her to collapse in an instant with a final rattling gasp; from the deep, messy, fleshy cavity in the body’s head, a slimy flood of brains and insects became a filthy and squirming puddle.

With heavy breaths, Brendan grasped Cadell’s arm and dragged him away from the bloody scene of their fight wordlessly. The faint sound of stumbling footsteps and howls of desperation echoed around the tight, dark, damp alleyways of Harson City- the disturbing mixture of deranged giggles and agonized sobs bounced from every shadowy corner of the concrete maze. Brendan pulled Cadell closer to his side as he looked behind them every minute in tense anticipation, as though a threat would appear out of thin air and try to kill them once again. Well, sometimes that did actually happen.

“Come on, dude, let me go,” sighed Cadell in exasperation as he tugged back his arm in futility. “I can’t feel my fingers anymore!” The taller boy remained utterly silent, as usual. His grip didn’t waver in the slightest at Cadell’s persistent yanking. After a couple minutes of his companion’s unrestrained complaints, he finally let out a brief and straightforward response- another habit of his.

“Stop resisting. Stay close to me, unless you’d like to become a three-course meal for those freaks.”

“Okay, I’ll stay right next to you! I won’t even think of wandering off, sounds good? Damn, I think you squished my hand…” Brendan spared Cadell a fleeting sideways glance as if to warn him; the usual lack of an expression was much more frightening than any threatening glare to the slightly shorter boy, and so he quickly reminded himself to never too travel far from his best friend’s side, lest he wanted to end up like the mutilated corpses that were left in the street behind them.

The stoic boy released his partner’s arm as he turned his gaze forward once again. “Remain right next to me, understood?” “Yes. Geez, I already agreed.” The alleyway seemed to go on forever, but in reality it must have been only a few minutes. After an awkward and tiring walk of absolute silence, the teenagers came across an open area- the dilapidated and gloomy shopping district of Eve Street.

“Stay quiet,” whispered Brendan to his partner as they glanced around for any signs of recent disturbance. Not a sound could be heard from within the many grayed, ruined buildings; even though this was indeed a good sign, it was impossible to know for sure whether there was a threat actively wandering around or not. The city was full of gruesome surprises, and the longer someone has lived there, the better they knew that.

Taking a deep, bracing breath, Cadell allowed his sparkling emerald eyes to slowly travel upwards, gradually gaining view of the horror that was the sky; the first element that immediately captured his attention was the throbbing, pulsing, tyrannical heart that was their warped and corrupted sun. Its methodical beats seemed to shake the world off of its constant orbit and into the endless bounds of space.

The furious, dark, oppressive clouds let out a reverberating gurgle and released spurts of nauseating, stinking pus onto the gore-soaked ground- a sure sign of the rainfall that would soon plague their crimson sky. The strong yet dull odor of electricity gas assaulted the pair’s sense of smell and caused them both to clear their suddenly irritated throats. “Close your eyes, Cadell,” Brendan snapped as he pulled the bronze-haired boy farther away from the open area of the still district.

He quickly did as he was told, knowing exactly what would happen within the span of several seconds. Just as he placed his hands over his eyes and turned his head away from the sky, bright and vivid flares of neon colors glitched across the disorienting atmosphere, causing the undertones of the overpowering fumes to grow even stronger than before. After a few moments of the blinding flashes, they suddenly seized their intrusive attack and allowed the two to open their eyes once again.

“It’s gonna rain soon. We should probably wait it out here, where we know there’s enough cover. I don’t think those things are coming after us anymore,” said Cadell, turning to look at Brendan. He studied the boy’s angular and pale features, obsidian hair, silver eyes, and the scar that trailed from the right of his jaw down to his collarbone. If the reserved, serious seventeen-year-old could be described in one word by Cadell, he would use “moonlight”. Everything about his appearance and personality was just so similar to a silvery ray of illumination seeping through the shadowy branches of trees in a thick forest- something about him was just so mystical and strange, just like the glowing orb.

Brendan nodded in agreement and motioned for his companion to take a seat on the cool, solid floor of the concrete alleyway as he himself sat down. Cadell followed his invitation and crouched near the noirette quietly, waiting for the storm’s inevitable arrival; soon, after a couple of minutes, it finally began. Rainfalls of blood and fresh, raw meat crashed down to the soaking ground from the blackening clouds, the wet slaps of chunks of maggot-infested innards and flesh falling like warm, slimy hail. The sickening splats joined the ever-present electrical hum overhead in the scarlet empyrean that cried revolting fluids.

“Look away,” mumbled Brendan, who himself was persistently staring at the horrible sight with a transfixed, fogged expression. Once again, Cadell followed the boy’s instructions and tore his eyes away from the scene immediately. The irony tang of gore and the rotten stench of ground, severed chunks of parasitic flesh made the silver-eyed teen’s stomach twist unpleasantly as he continued gazing at the perverse rainfall; in his mind, there was an strange emptiness taking over all of his coherent thoughts, and at the same time an indiscernible racing and blurring of his psyche.

He felt like he was falling into an endless abyss of chaos and confusion with every chunk of squirming meat that hit the floor in squelches; the world disappeared around Brendan as his mind fell further and further and further- A firm, grounding palm was placed onto his shoulder, shaking him awake from his dissociative episode. He gasped slightly and turned his head, his wide eyes landing onto the soft and concerned gaze of Cadell, who then scooted slightly closer to Brendan. “Hey, you okay?” With a harsh sigh to steady his racing heart, the noirette ran a hand through his dark, shiny bangs.

“I’m fine.” He briefly placed his own hand on top of Cadell’s, then pulled it off wordlessly. “The storm will be over soon. Let’s move on afterwards, as quickly as possible. I don’t like it here, I feel like something’s wrong,” said Brendan monotonously. The copper-haired boy nodded, allowed his hand to drop down to his side, and leaned against the damp wall behind himself. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t seem to rip his gaze away from his best friend’s infatuating visage. …

Brendan Raynott tossed and turned in his disturbed sleep restlessly, his usually deadpan expression now replaced by a pained grimace. He dreamt of his horrid past for the hundredth time that month, which always caused him such unease at night, preventing him from getting any actual rest at all. No longer could he sense Cadell’s comforting presence among the cruel nightmares that plagued his mind. After such a lengthy day at middle school, Brendan eagerly awaited the comforts of his house and family.

Throughout the entirety of his walk home, he craved the delicious muffins that his mother promised him before he left his home that foggy, rainy morning. The twelve-year-old began jogging as he neared the final block to his beckoning house. Within a few short minutes, Brendan at last reached his destination breathlessly, slightly regretting his choice to race; he reached out and twisted open the entrance’s brass doorknob, slipping into the dark residence and shutting the heavy door behind him.

What greeted him was a shocking, filthy mess. The fallen coat hanger was splintered into thousands of spiky shards, which were all speckled with droplets of dried blood; plates were smashed across the marble floor, plants were ripped out of their pots and scattered along the dirt that used to surround them. There were deep punches in the walls, the dark holes looking like infinite tunnels to the other side of the planet. The young boy gasped as he studied the absolute disarray that was previously his home, and he wondered in fear where his mom, dad, brother, and sister were.

With a dry swallow, Brendan cautiously made his way through the lower floor and to the staircase that led to the upper level of his home. He winced at nearly every creak that sounded from the mahogany steps and bounced around the empty building. The uncertain Brendan began hearing quite a ruckus as he grew closer to the second floor; it seemed to be coming from the master bedroom, near the second living room. He crept closer to the chambers and pressed an ear against the cold wood of the closed door in order to hear what the commotion was about- he could make out muffled shouts and crashing objects, and immediately worried for the safety of his family members.

Subsequently, he let out a long breath and braced himself as he pushed open the entrance and ran into the chaotic environment. What greeted him was something that Brendan would never be able to forget for the rest of his brutal, miserable life. Mrs. Raynott bit a tender, squishy chunk out of her husband’s neck and chewed on the stringy meat until she could swallow it down, then reached out to rip out another strip of his flesh before he gurgled, grabbed her arm, and clamped down onto her cheek- viscous blood spurted out from the gaping wound on the woman’s swollen face. Mr. Raynott collapsed as gore filled his lungs, causing raspy breaths to accompany his demented growls; with a final wet gasp, his battered body began convulsing as his inhales ceased entirely.

Brendan’s mother let out an ear-shattering shriek and started clawing madly at her own neck, her fingernails digging deeper and deeper into the tender tissue until she reached raw muscle, choking and spitting dark red and snorting like an ill pig, until she too fell dead in a pathetic heap. Little Ethan repeatedly bashed his young sister’s head into the floor, making Lilia inhale and gag on her own juices as she tried in vain to lift her head from the growing pool of fresh crimson and chunks of grayish-pink brain. He giggled and screamed while ripping out globs of sticky hair from her ravished scalp and shoving them down her contracting throat.

Lilia’s hoarse heaves and snarls were eerily similar to that of a rabid creature being violated and tortured mercilessly. After a few more moments of utter savagery, the tiny girl stopped struggling entirely, allowing Ethan to begin feasting on her deceased body in euphoric glee. Bits and pieces of flesh and gore flew across the room while he messily devoured his own little sister. Brendan watched the entire scene in a catatonic state of horror; his mother, father, and little sister were all dead, and his younger brother was completely lost in insanity.

Bile burned his throat as he doubled over and vomited up the contents of his stomach, the foul liquid splashing onto the ground before him like some sort of moldy, rotten stew. He coughed up the remaining fluid, then stumbled and ran down the staircase, through the lower level, and all the way through the front door. Slamming it shut, Brendan rested his forehead against the cold material while tears streamed down his blanched cheeks- when he finally caught his breath, he slowly turned around to fully face his street.

The sight that greeted him was no kinder than what he had witnessed within his home. Hundreds of children were gnawing at the twitching corpses of the disassembled corpses of their parents, men and women were bashing in their own heads with balled fists, and animals looked twisted and sick as they ran crazed around the neighborhood.

And the sky- oh, God, the sky- the sun was… an organ. A beating, raw heart that was suspended high in the dark red, gloomy atmosphere. The previously white and fluffy clouds were dark gray and looked furious, and they appeared to be full of strange fluids. Brendan’s knees grew weak, and he slid down to the dry, dusty, dark ground in shock. With a loud squelch from above, the clouds opened and it began to rain. …

With a start, Brendan opened his eyes to see Cadell leaning over him while roughly shaking his shoulders, a panicked expression on his striking countenance. He sat up and looked questioningly at the other boy, who, he noticed, kept glancing behind them and into the black alleyway instead. “What is it?”

“We have to leave now. I think I hear those people coming back- the storm stopped, so let’s go,” responded Cadell. The noirette immediately stood and backed out of the alleyway’s exit with his companion as he began hearing the distant snarls, too. In the open area of the shopping district, they both felt vulnerable and exposed; the pair tried their best to rush through while still remaining as silent as possible, and soon the disturbing sounds grew further away.

They continued to look around keenly as they eventually made their way past the many crumbling buildings and closer to the nearby forest. Brendan and Cadell stopped walking as they arrived at the edge of the wilderness and began discussing their next move. “We’ve gotten ahead of them, but I know that they’ll keep trailing us. We should go into the forest to confuse them, I think. The trees will screw with their sense of direction.” In response to the bronze-haired teen, Brendan furrowed his brows.

“There are dangerous things in the woods. We’re going to have to be very quiet and careful make our way through there, so make sure to-”

“Stay right next to you,” teased Cadell with a laugh. “Yes, dad.”

His best friend fixed him with that deadpan expression, causing him to immediately snap his mouth shut and obediently trail after him as Brendan began his path through the gloomy forest. In the shadowy area, there was almost complete silence, save for the occasional chirps of stray crickets hiding in shrubs and naked trees. Just as the two were beginning to grow slightly comfortable, a sudden snicker sounded from behind a spiky bush; Cadell and Brendan spun around, readied their weapons, and stepped farther from the disturbed dark shrub.

With another manic giggle, out stepped an aberrant, abnormal creature that resembled a fox- its coat was matted with dried scarlet fluids, mud, and prickly burs, and its face was absolutely abhorrent. A large, twisted smile was stretched across its wrinkly wet maws, and its eyes looked like gory diamonds stabbed into its disgusting head.

“Walk backwards slowly,” muttered the taller of the two, beckoning for Cadell to get behind him; the creature crept closer at a gradual, steady pace. With another overjoyed snarl, the fox sprung forward with opened jaws, its many razor sharp fangs gleaming ferociously. …

Panting, Brendan and Cadell weaved through the many trunks and branches of the thicket, gaining increasing distance from the fox that pursued them energetically. The forest was like a never ending maze that required pure luck to overpass, and it seemed as though these two were very lucky indeed. Within the span of several more seconds, they reached the edge of the wood’s end; the companions blasted through the last few remaining feet of trees and stumbled into a large, wide area of grayed fields and stubby, dark brushes- in the very center of the meadow, there imposingly stood a towering and crumbling mansion made of gloomy and worn bricks, rusty steel, and cracking windows.

Its inside was completely dark and lacked any noise whatsoever, which made the two teens feel a shiver of uncertainty trickle down their spines like ice water. A howl came from the forest, accompanied by pounding steps and wet pants. The pair spun around to see the creature bounding towards them only a few feet away, and they pounced into action after a wordless debate of what they should do next- they sprinted to the mansion, leaving behind their pursuer.

Brendan leaped forward, yanked open the jammed, creaky door, pushed Cadell forward, then followed behind him and slammed the entrance closed. Scrapes and whines followed the sudden bang that followed them after the door was sealed, and they simultaneously let out sighs of relief at the realization of their close escape and near death.

“Come on, let’s move away from the door,” ordered Brendan. Cadell muttered, “I think we might wanna just neuter that thing next time we see it.” The pair glanced around the building’s interior for the first time since they arrived, and were quite astonished by the beauty of it, regardless of its weathering. Old intricate paintings with golden frames lined the dark, smooth walls, a shattered glass chandelier glittered on the high, curved, crumbly ceiling, and the floor tiles- although dusty- were beautiful swirled marble.

Before the partners could get too distracted by the mansion’s appearance, another loud crash from outside alerted them; they shot a final fleeting glance at the door, then made their way deeper into the silent building. Peeking behind every door to check for any unwanted companions, Brendan was very much on edge for the entirety of their rather brief exploration- Cadell, though, was carefree and relaxed as usual. He yawned and attempted to speed up the paranoid process of his now aggravated best friend, who began ignoring him completely after his sixth complaint of boredom.

“Whoa! Hey, come here, Brendan!” The sulking noirette fixed the emerald-eyed, excited boy with a tired, irritated, and quite frightening glare as he walked out of an empty room that he was scoping out, finding Cadell leaning into the entrance of a chamber illuminated by the light of a match, which the copper-haired teen found lying on a table near the front door.

“It’s a study! There’s papers and books and pens everywhere,” he remarked, traveling deeper into the messy room. With a sigh, Brendan followed after him unenthusiastically. He noticed that Cadell wasn’t downplaying his descriptions at all- it was absolutely chaotic with stray, ripped out pieces of paper and dusty books scattered across the large ebony desk in the center of the study as well as the entire floor.

Brendan tried his best to avoid the many objects as he followed his companion to the shiny wooden furniture. When he stood next to the slightly shorter boy, he could make out with the assistance of the candlelight the messy writing scribbled onto the pages; it was rather difficult to read in the dim lighting, but he noticed that the paragraphs looked like they belonged to a lengthy research project.

“I think a researcher made this stuff. Look, the things that he wrote about look like observations and hypotheses- and look at that open book on the floor! It looks like it’s a journal or something, there are entries and dates,” said Cadell, voicing Brendan’s exact thoughts down to his recent discovery of the interesting leather book.

“You’re right. I’d like to take a closer look at these; you read the journal and I’ll scan the papers. Tell me if you find anything of importance,” responded the silver-eyed teen. “Got it. I’ll light some more matches- let’s try to make sense of this mess.” …

A dull ache encased Cadell Lynch’s small, battered, torn body, and his mind was nothing but a monotonous buzz. The bloody twelve-year-old could feel the sting of a warm, slimy, rough tongue scraping against his raw wounds and the pain of canines digging into his soft flesh with every gnaw of its drool-covered maw. He felt his weak grip on life growing looser by the second; just as his shallow breaths grew slower and he became cold, Cadell felt the continuous lapping of the bloodthirsty dog disappear and heard an agonized howl come from the animal- then, utter quiet.

A hand was placed onto his chest, right over his heart. The last thing Cadell felt before he slipped away was the feeling of being lifted off of the freezing concrete and held close to a warm chest. Cadell was always close to Brendan. Always. Ever since the day that he saved his life from that mutt, the two were practically inseparable; well, Cadell was always annoyed by the noirette’s serious, blunt, overly-protective behavior- but, when he looked up from the book and at the sitting figure of Brendan, he was reminded of just how much he loved the paternal and reserved boy.

Without him, Cadell believed that he never would have been able to survive for as long as he had. The responsibility that the boy always showed kept the two of them alive for over five years, and most likely for many years to come. Usually, the pair stayed very close to the suburbs of Harson City because it was one of the safest areas, but recently they had been traveling towards its outskirts; Brendan had approached Cadell a few weeks ago with a strange look in his icy eyes, and a firm, determined expression on his elegant features.

He then told his partner that he wanted them to leave- not just the abandoned suburbs, but the entire city itself. Cadell tried fruitlessly to convince him not to try something so risky and hopeless, but Brendan had never been more stubborn in his entire life. Eventually, the dismayed boy had no choice but to go along with the pointless plan, as his best friend was more than set on escaping the Hell that was their home. His emerald gaze found the contents of the book once again, and he suddenly snapped out of his daydreams and recalled all that he had read earlier.

“Brendan! This guy was trying to escape the city, too! He wrote about his experience of trying to figure out a solution,” chimed Cadell in excitement.

The paler of the two looked up and said, “These papers… really are experiment results. They’re incredibly detailed and organized; Cadell, I think we’ve found something amazing.” For the first time in a very long while, the ghost of a smile flickered across Brendan’s mouth. “Maybe we could actually figure out a way to get out of here using this information-! Hold on. What the Hell?”

“What is it?”

“‘I’ve grown more hopeless with each passing day; all of my experiments have failed me, and my hypotheses never bring forth any promising results. I’m afraid that there truly is no way out of this disgusting penitentiary. This shall be my last entry, for if I cannot escape the city, then I will have to end my miserable life here. It hurts me that all of my efforts have been in vain, but my story- and research- ends now. I hear them clawing at my door and windows. My revolver is loaded, I have locked the entrance to the attic that I am tucked away in, and once I am done writing I shall drop this book down onto my desk. So, this is goodbye; to whomever is reading this, I pray that you’ll be able to leave, something which I could never do. Good luck. May God save us all,’” whispered the bronze-haired teen.

“There’s a damn body in the attic, Brendan…” The silver-eyed boy suddenly stood up, walked closer to Cadell, and grabbed the book from his hand. “Don’t listen to a thing that old fool wrote. You and I can and will get out of here. Together, we’re going to leave this terrible place- so let’s continue looking through these papers and figure out how to leave this damned city.”

[moomitheartist]

-God's Land-

From the moment I stepped foot into the abandoned factory, the most pungent odor I have ever smelled hit me like a ten-ton truck; it was sour and seemed to coat my throat, causing me to cough and gag uncontrollably. The thick, rancid air squeezed my windpipe so horribly that I was almost tempted to leave right then and there- almost. However, I was far too passionate about this mission of mine to run away that easily, so I cleared my throat, scrunched my face up, and pushed forward.

Deeper and deeper into the factory I wandered, swinging my flashlight around like a madman at every little creak and scratch that bounced off the towering gray walls of the decrepit and dark building.

“Grandma, tell me the story again!”

“Lucas, I’ve already told you five times today. Maybe tomorrow?”

“Nope, one more time! Please?”

“Well, alright. Just one more time. Come, sit in my lap and bring your tea with you.”

“Start, start!”

“A long, long time ago, there was a place where the most wonderful things came into existence. A place where magic lived, a place where whatever you wanted could be made. A pet dragon? A deer with wings that looks like a lovely, gradient rainbow? A fish with ears and a tail like a cat? Nothing is too imaginative to be brought to life in that place; “God’s Land”, is what the factory is called. A place of beauty and happiness and magic beyond what anybody could ever imagine. But, as all good things must come to an end, the factory of God shut down permanently- there are many different speculations that the people of our town have come up with, but the most common one is that we became greedy and unappreciative of God’s gifts, and so He took them away from us. They say that He is waiting for our gratitude once again to open the factory back up. How shall we show our gratitude, Lucas, so we can have “God’s Land” back once again?”

“We pray, grandma!”

“That’s right, child. We go to church every Sunday and we praise God and His goodness. Alright, dear, it’s nearly past your bedtime- go brush your teeth and run along to dreamland. Don’t forget to say your prayers. Goodnight, Lucas.”

I thought of Grandmother Rosemary’s old story as I trudged past the pieces of debris and broken, rusted machinery of the factory’s lower level. Long after she passed away and I grew into my older years of childhood, I understand that she came up with that story only to make me pray and try to preserve her religious practices through me; however, I always couldn’t help but be utterly fascinated by the abandoned factory that stood at the edge of our small town for so many decades.

Now that I was finally sixteen, I was allowed by my parents to wander around whenever I was bored during the daytime- it took me a long time to work up the courage to explore the ruins of “God’s Land”, as my grandma called it, but at last I became brave enough to do so. That was mainly because we were moving in three days, far away from the town I grew up in and had such fond childhood memories of.

I believed that it would be an appropriate close to my story of living here to end my time exploring the building that always filled me with awe and wonder. I recall when I looked up at the factory’s towering frame just a few minutes ago; the barren, dull appearance of the surrounding land that circled it, the lack of sound (save for the hoarse, wicked cackling of the ravens that circled overhead), and the rickety and jagged silver that closed off the dangerous building from the public.

Everything about that place was terribly uninviting, but, again, I was too set on gaining this accomplishment to back away now. Even through my stubborn mindset, I couldn’t help but feel uneasy as I glanced around the hostile atmosphere of the cold, dark place. Without my trustworthy flashlight, I would probably be absolutely unable to navigate my way through the factory.

I wondered what I was even looking for in the hazardous building, but I did know that I wasn’t going to leave until I found something amazing, something that would forever remain in my mind even when I left my town; I couldn’t stop until I found something. Damn, I would be disappointed for sure. A sharp pain exploded in my ankle and I fell down to the dusty ground in a pathetic heap, dropping my light at the collision.

“What the Hell was that?!” I scrambled up to my feet and snatched the tool back before it could roll out of my reach, then shined the light to where I first felt the explosion of discomfort- right there, a strange metal handle lay buried upright in the rubble. With an expression of pure confusion, I carefully made my way closer to the shiny gray object with the intention of inspecting it closer.

I began nudging the debris away with the toe of my sneakers, trying to make the handle as visible as possible. Was it connected to something? I had no idea, but I was going to find out. Within a couple lengthy seconds, I managed to get full sight of the thing that banged into my still throbbing ankle; the handle… of a trapdoor? I exclaimed in surprise and reached down to yank the small entrance in the ground open- this was exactly what I was looking for! Something coated in mystery, a thrilling discovery, a shocking realization! This was perfect.

I was filled with giddy excitement and anxiousness as I succeeded in yanking open the jammed, screechy door and stared down into a black void. With a deep breath to calm my nerves, I shined the flashlight down into the gaping entrance and illuminated the bottom of the trapdoor (which wasn’t as deep as I had originally anticipated). The air swam with particles of dust and obscured some of my view, but I was able to tell that the jump wouldn’t injure me; with that thought repeating itself in my mind to relax me, I shut my eyes and hopped into the pitch black chambers.

My legs made solid contact with the ground, and I managed to keep my footing save for a slight wobble. The light soaked the strange place in a foggy yellow glow; it was hard to make much out, but I could tell that there were crates and boxes thrown around- and I could also see that the chambers branched out into a foreboding, dim hallway. I took another deep breath, then suddenly began gagging even worse than before; that putrid smell of rot, infection, feces, and piss was even stronger down in the factory’s lowest level.

After several moments of harsh coughing, I finally gathered my composure, slipped my T-shirt over my nose to block out the scent, then made my way down the lightless hallway. Brandishing my flashlight like a sword, I studied the long abandoned spiderwebs and dead cockroaches that littered the moldy walls and dusty ground; this place was even filthier than an abandoned public restroom. My converses bumped into several fallen chunks of decayed wall, delaying my progress as I tried to avoid falling down- but, I eventually arrived at a large steel door built into a brick partition.

After clearing my throat to prevent my gag reflexes from taking over once more, I tried the doorknob. It was unlocked. So, steeling myself for some sort of creepy warehouse containing skeletons and skulls, I pushed the heavy entryway open… and what I saw was far worse than anything I ever could have imagined. A lab. Anything but a regular lab, though- images that would forever be fried into my psyche greeted me like a pile of dismembered corpses at a birthday party.

There were several cages and human-sized test tubes… filled with people. If you could call those abominations humans anymore. Right beside me was one of the testing vats that had an oversized, bloated man floating inside of its contaminants, which appeared to be water. It was clear that he was deceased- his eyeballs were swollen with fluid, as was every square centimeter of his body; stray flaps of grayed, decomposing flesh drifted in the browned, filthy water, and clumps of his receding hair floated around the nauseating liquid, as did stray pieces of detached fingernails. A rotten, inflamed tongue hung out from misshapen lips, floating buoyantly within the fluid of his eternal cage.

To my left was a… person? Yes, it was a person, a man, infested with fleas and wriggling, squirming parasitic worms, wearing a muzzle over his scabbed, drooling mouth. He was surrounded by feces and urine, forming a sickening, foul blanket that contained his naked and infected body. There was a leash that was secured painfully around his bloated neck, in a manner that caused him to gag and salivate profusely.

In front of me, there was a little girl in another undersized cage, who sat hunched, utterly bare. Her matted and dirty brown hair obscured her features momentarily- until she looked up, that is. The small child had several chunks missing and deep lacerations across her face, particularly over her now-empty, pulpy, bloodied eyeballs. Her tongue was clearly cut off as she let out a babbling, drawn-out groan of unadulterated agony, causing blood to bubble out from between her raw lips and splatter onto her pale flesh.

The last thing I saw before I bolted away, vomiting uncontrollably, was a man and woman frozen mid-sex; the woman’s face was… well, missing. Her naked body had several deep bruises and fleshy scratches, the dark purple and yellow standing out against the crimson from her chewed-off facial features. Eyeballs hung out from bitten eye sockets and her nose appeared to be ripped off. The man, who resumed having intercourse with her motionless body, had several parasitic maggots and slugs embedded into his epidermis, burrowing deeper with each passing second, pulsating and fat.

I screamed. I screamed, then abruptly vomited sour bile onto the blood-splattered tiles before finally dropping my flashlight and running, just simply sprinting with no real destination in mind. Unsure of where I was even going, I eventually stumbled upon the same unhinged door that I entered from. I gagged once more, then staggered outside onto the lush grass where I eventually broke down sobbing; the images of that horrific, sickening lab would be forever ingrained into my mind, plaguing my dreams and waking moments alike. “God’s Land”... was fucking Hell on Earth.

[moomitheartist]

-The Holes in My Skin-

Beep! Beep! Beep! My alarm clock rang out, the shock jerking me awake like the shrill shriek of an unexpected fire drill; I groaned and shifted myself into a sitting position as I groggily reached out to turn the nuisance of a wake up call off, rubbing my numb face with my free hand to lessen the fatigue that never failed to cloud over my mornings.

“Shit,” I muttered when the bothersome screaming finally ceased, willing myself up out of my warm, cozy bed and into the freezing atmosphere of my dim room. I shivered as I felt the bare soles of my feet make the undesired but necessary contact with the ice-cold wooden floor, trying my best not to knock over furniture while stumbling through my chambers and towards the expectant door.

I could smell a strange scent around me as I grew more aware and awake, which was similar to the sizzling, oily odor of ruined bacon frying in a moldy pan. If my parents were cooking downstairs, I would gladly eat whatever they prepared, ruined meat or not; it was a more than welcome change from the soggy peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwiches that I had to force down every single morning.

“6AM is too damn early,” I sighed, stretching out an arm to angrily yank the steel door knob open and allow a blast of icy air to travel through my goosebump-covered body; no matter how much I increased the heating on the thermostat, the winter air always somehow managed to sneak into my home. The sensation of soft, squishy carpet was a welcome feeling and a convenient change from the hard faux tiles of my room.

I stomped heavily down the stairs to reach the lower level’s bathroom and change into my stiff, uncomfortable uniform- and ridiculous, ugly skirt. The boys were so lucky to be able to wear some functional trousers instead of that debilitating excuse of an article of clothing… It was probably because of the constant wearing of that irritating fabric that I felt an annoying itchiness from the moment I sat up in bed.

I sighed in envy when I entered the bathroom and temporarily heard the snoring of my parents next door, having one hell of a time in dreamland while I had to walk 20 minutes to my school in the freezing winds of the wintertime- however, I was also mildly confused about the source of that unpleasant smell if it wasn’t caused by cooking. After a few minutes I finished brushing my teeth, washing my face, and was all changed into the uniform that awaited me on the clothing rack near the shower.

I yawned for the fifth time this miserable morning, scratched at my strangely painful skin, and walked over to look into the mirror to see if I looked presentable; I flicked on the bright light to see myself, wincing at the sharp pain behind my eyes at the strong and instant illumination. That’s when I noticed the holes. The quarter-sized things were everywhere on my body: my cheeks, forehead, neck, torso, arms, legs; everywhere that was currently visible. The moment I saw them on my face, I screamed and ripped off all my clothes until only my undergarments remained; now that I knew of their presence, the itching grew even more intolerable to the point where I was furiously scratching at every inch of my body as I continued to shriek in horror.

The holes glistened with coats of milky yellow, thick, dripping pus that leaked out of the dark cavities. As I looked longer, I noticed that the craters were not empty- there were strange greenish-brown chunks of slimy, fleshy things that had the appearance of ground, bunched up rotten meat. They squelched and exploded even more sticky fluid as my nails tore into them, crusting over my fingers as it dried; the irritation grew worse and worse as the pus crusted over the fresh, raw scabs caused by my persistent scratching.

I cried out in pain as I dug into one of the sore holes with my thumb and forefinger, pulling out one of the squishy and warm objects and throwing it to the ground where it then exploded into a pool of thick, slimy pus. I barely registered the banging on the door and my parents’ panicked calls begging me to unlock the door over my erratic sobs and squeals. I grabbed a pair of tweezers from the sink drawer and reached into another hole to remove the pulsating, painful chunk from my skin; over and over and over again, reaching into every crater and yanking out the unnatural fleshy objects, flinging them to the ground in an explosion of dense, stinking fluid.

I scratched and ripped at my body with my other hand desperately, trying to relieve myself from the worsening and unbearable sensation of things embedded in my epidermis- I didn’t even notice the pus squirting all over my face and into my mouth, but I wondered what the salty, viscous, bitter liquid coating my taste buds was- however, all I truly felt in that moment was the agonizing itchiness which triumphed over all my other senses and thoughts.

At that moment, my parents managed to break in the door and I heard them scream in shock as they saw my body, or rather what used to be my body. Before I felt them subdue me, I reached up and dug my crusted, broken nails into my face to rip out the things inside my pulsing, hot holes, causing an even larger amount of pus to pool into my gaping mouth and down my throat. In my blind act of insanity I tore into my flesh, getting closer and closer to my eye sockets, finally reaching them before a sudden darkness overtook my blurred vision.

Strong hands grasped my flailing arms and my mom screamed, “Her eyeballs! Her eyeballs! She ripped out her eyeballs!” She must have been right, as I felt two warm, gelatinous circlets drop from my hand and hit the ground with a wet thud. That’s the last sound I registered before I felt myself black out and fall into a long, dreamless state of emptiness. …

“We don’t know what happened, doctor.” “I just woke up to her screaming in the bathroom, and when we finally got in she was… like this.” “Well, Mr. and Mrs. Burns, I’m very sorry to say that I believe Adrianna had a mental breakdown of some kind. These sorts of things happen to highschoolers who experience prominent amounts of stress, but I must say that this case is something else entirely; the amount of violence that she inflicted upon her own body isn’t something that would happen from a regular breakdown. I’m sorry to ask this, but does your daughter have any history of mental illness? Any prescriptions, abuse of drugs?”

I groaned as a pounding pain suddenly exploded in my skull- particularly around my eyes. Why was it so dark? I was unable to see anything, there was only an endless void of black. Why did my eyes hurt so much? “Adrianna?! She’s awake, doctor, look! She’s moving!” “She’s most likely extremely groggy and is suffering from some memory loss; the painkillers will make her mind quite foggy for a while,” came an offhand remark from nearby my bed. I felt a warm palm being pressed to my cheek, and mumbled out a rather incoherent word. “Mom?”

“Yes, honey, I’m here!”

“I can’t see…”

A muffled sob sounded from somewhere above me, and I felt a few drops of hot liquid drop onto my cold, sore cheeks. “Don’t worry, you’ll be able to… soon. I promise.” There was a strange, awkward silence that was only occasionally broken by tearful cries from my mother. I didn’t understand why she was so upset if I would be able to see soon. Then, I remembered what happened to me- the holes.

The pus, the pain, the greenish-brown things that exploded. I began hyperventilating as my skin started to crawl and phantom insect legs wiggled around under my skin and thick, slimy pus filled my mouth once again- “The holes! The holes are on me! Get it off, get it off, get it off! It’s itchy! It hurts so much, please!”

“Honey, calm down, I’m begging you! You’ll hurt yourself!”

I heard my dad’s rough yet worried voice demanding an explanation. “What holes, Adrianna?! There’s nothing on you!” I screamed out as I felt the agonizing, crusty irritation burrowing deeper into my skin and through my organs, that disgusting yellow liquid drenching my pillow and drying into a scratchy layer on my burning face; the wet pops and squelches were deafening and maddening. Bile clawed at my throat and I began choking as I regurgitated the large amount of pus that I had swallowed and inhaled.

“She’s suffocating, lift her up!” A firm pair of large hands grabbed my shoulders, allowing the sour liquid to pour past my flaky lips like a filthy dam that hadn’t been used in decades, allowing all contents to fester and marinate. I felt the hot, chunky liquid splash into my lap and gagged at the nauseatingly bitter flavor coating my whole mouth and dripping down my throat, into my shirt. “Jesus Christ.” “Mr. and Mrs. Burns, I’ll have to sedate her. She’s panicking so much that I’m afraid she’ll hurt herself.” More sobs. A sharp pain in my vomit-covered arm. Then, pure nothingness once again. …

Mr. Burns placed his head into his palms as he hunched over in the uncomfortable hospital seat, praying that he could hold in his tears for a little bit longer. Dr. Harrison sighed in disappointment while flipping through his medical report on Adrianna, which showed little promise to her healing in the current state she was in. Adrianna Burns’ mother silently cried in the chair beside her husband, her sleeping daughter’s form always in her peripheral vision. “Your daughter is very ill; I believe her mental state is in critical condition, judging by her delusions of ‘holes’ in her skin… for now, we must continue keeping her under and watch her closely to prevent Adrianna from hurting herself.”

“This has never happened before, nothing like this has ever been a problem in the past,” whispered Mrs. Burns while gazing at her offspring. “Has she ever been evaluated before, for any mental conditions?” “Well… no. This hasn’t happened before-” “Ma’am, there are usually indicators during early childhood that show a child may develop some severe form of mental illness. Have you never observed any unusual or concerning behaviors from Adrianna in the past?”

With some difficulty, Mr. Burns lifted his head and looked at the doctor. “I never thought about it that much, but now that you mention it, I remember that our daughter had some… hallucinations, I guess you could call them. We thought she was just very imaginative, but now I see that they were a little too severe and persistent to have been just that.”

“Yes, I remember that, too,” his wife added quietly. “She always talked about the ladies in her room and babies in the bathroom. She also mentioned that the wall bled whenever she was upset; but, doctor, we thought it was just the overactive imagination of a little child! If we would have known that it was this serious, we would have taken her to get help! I’m so sorry, I didn’t know,” she sobbed once again.

“It’s alright, ma’am. I understand how it would be easily mistaken for an overactive imagination; however, based on everything that has happened, I believe that it was much more than that. Mr. and Mrs. Burns, I’m sorry to say this, but it is far too probable that your daughter suffers from schizophrenia, and has since a very young age. I’m very sorry.”

There was utter silence from the shocked couple. “I have one last question for the two of you; has your daughter recently experienced any forms of stress in the past few months?” “I-I… no,” whispered Adrianna’s mother. “The state test was coming up. Maybe we pushed her too much,” Mr. Burns numbly stated, staring off into a distant place just beyond the doctor’s shoulder.

“But we didn’t! We took care of her and encouraged her; everything that we did, it was all for Adrianna! This couldn’t have caused her to… become like this.” Dr. Harrison let out a harsh sigh and rubbed his face in suppressed fury. “So, for this entire year, you’ve been pressuring your daughter to the point where she had a breakdown this severe?!”

“Not for a year. Since she was in fourth grade, we always forced her to absorb herself in her schoolwork entirely.” He turned towards his wife with tears in his dark eyes. “We caused this, dear. She hasn’t had a single stress-free day since she was a toddler; and we never even noticed how she grew worse and worse, until she snapped just now.” The man’s wife covered her mouth while Mr. Burns began sobbing. “We only had good intentions… it couldn’t have been because of us. It couldn’t! I love my daughter, I didn’t do this to her!”

The tired, aged man turned away from the hysterical pair and looked at their daughter sadly.

“The road to Hell is paved with good intentions.”

[moomitheartist]

-A Twisted Smile- Pt. 2 (Final)

"No, you don't-!" Liu couldn't let his brother escape into the forest; the absolute abundance of any light source would make in all too easy for Jeff to lose him. There was no way he'd ever let him disappear again. He sprang forward and pulled the pale individual down to the snow, holding on tightly; he made sure to keep a firm grip on his arms and sat on his legs to prevent him from kicking. "Get fucking off of me!"

The madly struggling boy seemed like a rabid animal in that moment. Liu had to keep his upper body out of the way of the psychotic lunatic in order to avoid having a chunk bitten out of his neck. He stared with shock at the madman that was once his sibling, squirming and screaming nonsense at him with purely deranged eyes. Why did this have to happen to him? "Jeff, stop," he whispered, aghast.

"DON'T FUCKING TOUCH ME! GET OFF ME, GET OFF, GET OFF! I'M GONNA KILL YOU, JUST WAIT! I'M GONNA FINISH YOU OFF THIS TIME, I'LL GUT YOU AND SHOVE YOUR ORGANS INTO YOUR FILTHY FUCKING MOUTH-" "Shut up!  What the hell is wrong with you?! What is wrong with you?!" He began to cry once again in shock. He never, ever would have said something like that. Never.

"Yeah, that's right. Cry. I hope you rot in fucking hell. Just fucking kill yourself," he spat out, starting to laugh hysterically at the look in the other boy's eyes. His grip slackened noticeably- each word felt like a sword stabbing him through his heart; the captured boy took this as a sign to keep speaking. "I hate you. I never loved you, but of course your idiotic self couldn't see that. I always hated how mom and dad cared about you more than they ever did about me. I fucking hate how you helped me with homework whenever I slept through class. And I hate how you held my hand when we waited at the bus stop, which we always almost missed because I slept in every damn morning."

There was something warm and wet dripping down his cheeks, it tasted... salty. What was it? Was it... tears? No, no, not his- it must have been from the other boy, dripping onto his face. Right? "I hate you for bailing me out of detention countless times, and how you tried to keep me from beating the shit out of Randy and the other kids. How you took the blame when those fucking cops showed up to take me away, the way you slept by my hospital bed when our parents went home for the night.

"I hate how you stayed in my room with me when I was holed up in there, rambling nonsense, and stayed throughout the entire night when I refused to sleep. I fucking hate you so much, Liu, I hate you and everything you ever did for me! You hear me?! I hate you! " The brown-haired boy suppressed a sob and yanked the knife away from Jeff. With a severely shaking hand, he raised it up high, right over the other's heart. Even though his arm was now released, the killer did nothing, letting it rest limply in the freezing, soft ground.

He stared emptily right into Liu's manic eyes and stayed perfectly still, almost as if he was nudging him to simply finish it off. The blade shook so terribly that it nearly slipped out of his cold and sweaty palm, but he managed to keep hold of it. "Hey, Jeff. You ok?" An older boy entered the room after a curt knock. "You haven't come out of your room for the entire day." A bandaged boy whose skin was burnt into a ghostly white and had black-singed hair that use to be a coppery-tawny brown turned around on his bed to face the door. His eyes had a flat look to them; nothing like how they were, previously flaming with a certain intensity and anger. "What are you looking at," Jeff asked in a strange, monotonous voice, his face devoid of emotion.

"U-um... nothing. What do you mean?" "...it's my face, isn't it? Don't pretend." This caught his brother by surprise, and he struggled to respond without setting him off. He understood that the painkillers the doctor prescribed had... strange effects on his mental state. "I know. It's fucking beautiful," he suddenly finished, cracking a grin. Liu just then saw the hand mirror that was in Jeff's grip. "It's perfect, I never realized how much I needed this... I should've lit myself on fire before this." He laughed frantically for a moment as the other stood frozen, then went back to studying himself in the mirror some more. "Uh... yeah. So, do you need anything?" He was met with silence.

"Ok.... call me if you change your mind." Before he exited the sterile-scented room, he hesitated. "On second thought, I'll stay with you, Jeff. Is that ok?" A noise of indifference came from the transfixed boy. Liu closed the door and sat next to his brother on the messy bed, occasionally glancing at him just to see Jeff's gaze never leaving the reflective surface. "So, do you wanna play a game?" "No." "Anything you'd like to talk about? You know you can tell me anything, right?"

Surprisingly, the wounded adolescent set down the mirror and scooted closer to his sibling, then leaned onto his shoulder. "...is there something wrong with me? I feel weird... am I bad?" "No, God no, Jeff. You're perfectly fine, the medicine you're on is just making you feel a little funny. You're a good person, never tell yourself otherwise. I love you, ok?" Jeff glanced up at Liu, who put an arm around his shoulders comfortingly. "Don't be scared of me. I don't want that. I'd never hurt you."

This unnerving sentence sent slight shivers down his spine as he looked deep into his brother's eyes. He saw nothing but desperation in the icy-blue gaze. "I know," he responded quietly. However, he had a strange feeling in his stomach that he simply couldn't explain. They sat like that, warmed by each other's bodies until Margaret Woods, their mother, opened the door to her youngest son's room. "Liu, are you ready to leave to church? Oh, honey, how are you feeling?" She addressed Jeff with concern in her voice.

When he just kept staring at her, she sighed. "I can't wait until you're done with those damn pills... Liu, be ready in ten minutes." She shut the door behind her and the two boys heard her begin to trudge down the long flight of stairs. "I don't want to leave, but you know how she gets. I'm really sorry, I promise it'll be quick. Is it ok if I go?" "Fine. Bring in my medicine."

Liu smiled at his brother and stood up. "Just a second." After a couple moments, Margaret and Liu left for their prayer, leaving Jeff alone with their father, Peter. The man came in to check on him every twenty minutes or so, always to find him staring at the wall and muttering to himself. "Son, want me to get you anything?" "...not bad, not crazy, fine, fine, fine, just fine..." This worried and, quite frankly, scared Mr. Woods even though he knew that the behavior was expected due to the strong painkillers that he was to take every five hours.

Both of their parents were glad that Liu was the one who remained with his brother constantly, unhesitantly rushing to bring him anything that was needed and providing him with the company that he clearly required. Mrs. Woods checked up on them that night to see the older boy with his arms wrapped around Jeff, deep asleep while the other just looked up at the ceiling. The dark circles that lines his eyes were concerningly pronounced.

This simply added to his already ghost-like appearance; one time she woke up in the middle of the night and wandered of the dark room to get a glass of water, only to see the pale boy standing motionless in the hallway, glaring at something in the void of black. This nearly gave her a heart attack but before she could say anything, her older son, who looked utterly sleep deprived, took Jeff by the hand and led him back into his room.

Margaret could see the caring and love that Liu harbored for his brother at its strongest in that moment of the night's late hour; how he stayed up as long as needed to make sure that the boy didn't accidentally hurt himself. During the daytime, she could see the loss of alertness in his usually attentive green eyes due to the late nights he stayed up. He cares so, so much.

  The weapon remained suspended and frozen in mid air, hovering over its target. Words were not spoken, the only sound was quiet sobbing. Liu's tears flowed like little rivers from his eyes and fell onto the bloody hoodie of his unresponsive sibling. "Goodbye, brother," he finally uttered. Jeff didn't move an inch as the knife was bought down... Suddenly, a black tentacle ripped away the knife away from the boy, and knocked him off of the murderer. Another smokey, dark member shot out from the shadows of the forest and pulled Jeff up, towards the entrance.

Liu covered his mouth and held back a scream as an inhumanly tall, thin creature that was devoid of features on its white face stepped out from the darkness. It wore a black suit with a red tie and had abnormally long limbs, as well as eight of these dark tentacles protruding from his back- one of which held Jeff a couple feet off the ground. It seemed that the boy had finally snapped out of his deep trance and appeared to see the creature for the first time. "W-what the fuck are you?" Liu asked in horror, scrambling backwards as it began to slowly walk forward. It gently set the suspended individual to the ground, then proceeded to stretch out his arms towards the fearful male; they grew longer than any human's could, or any creature that walked this planet for that matter.

Before he could stand up and run, Liu felt strange... frozen. He fell into a hypnotized state, unable to budge. The boy gaped, and the demonic creature neared him until it finally towered right above him. A dark tendril slipped around his waist and bought him up until he was inches away from its face- or, that is, its lack of a face. The brunette couldn't even make a single whimper, utterly incapable to move in any way. "You will soon come to regret your choice of attempting to murder an important asset of mine, Liu Woods."

The creature had a silky, tranquil voice that had a sort of echo and resonance to it. Just as those words were uttered, the boy was able to move again. "Put me down," he screamed, desperately trying to free himself of the member's steel grip. How did it even know his name? It began walking back towards the forest and Jeff. He glared up at the being, a hand over the stab in his shoulder. His gaze then turned to his older brother, where an unidentified emotion took the place of anger.

"Go on, Jeffrey. Return to the manor, you're in desperate need of some warmth." A tentacle tossed his knife back to him, and he caught it wordlessly. "Try not to lose it again-" A black tendril suddenly fell to the floor, writhing and squirming. Some sort of dark gray liquid began spreading out within the frosty snow, encircling the now motionless limb. The same fluid that had spurted out of the black thing coated Jeff's knife, splattered all the way up to the handle. Liu fell to the cushioned ground as the tentacle that held him was sliced clean off.

The tall creature looked at the dark-haired male, unreadable as ever. "Why?" It asked simply with a patient tone. "Don't touch him." The green-eyed boy stared at the two beings, astonished. How did this demonic entity know his brother? How was Jeff its... asset? "Hm. You do realize that if it were not for me, your heart would be impaled with the very weapon that you were careless enough to lose? Perhaps you forget that your brother would gladly kill you without hesitation. Jeffrey, he does not love you anymore. The caring, sweet boy you used to know wants your head and will do whatever it takes to ensure that he gets it."

A shadow covered the upper half of Jeff's face. "We're your family now. Allow me to get rid of him, and you can live your life with newly found peace." Lies. Every single word that evil being spoke was woven on lies, twisting up and stretching out everything it spoke of. "I know," he monotoned. "Don't listen to him!" He turned in surprise and looked at Liu, who had just shouted in fury. "It's his fault that you became like this, he's manipulating you! Damn it Jeff, how can't you see-"

A tendril covered his mouth to silence him, and his hands flew up to yank it off with no avail. "Clearly, he's attempting to brainwash you into trusting him again just so he can stab you in the back. Tell me, who do you trust more? Who will you choose?" His brother, who took care of him for his entire life, who had just tried to end his life? Or Slenderman, an entity of unknown origin, who took him in after finding him walking around the forest in a daze and covered in blood? Family, or caregiver?

The pressure of the nearly impossible decision sent chills of panic down Jeff's spine. How could he ever choose? "I... choose..." Liu studied his face intensly in apprehension, praying that he would be able to get his brother back from this... monster. One answer was all it took. "You." His heart dropped. If the creature had a mouth, he knew it would be grinning. "That was the right choice to make. I'm proud of you."

The lunatic displayed no emotion. He looked utterly empty. He felt empty. The boy he had known for the sixteen years he had been alive was gone. "There's no need for you to watch. Go home and patch yourself up; I'll join you shortly after I finish." Finish. Finish. Finish. Finish. Finish killing his older brother. Ripping his limbs off one by one and impaling his torso through the sharp, frosted branch of a tree. Leaving his intestines to be devoured by hungry wolves and his eyes to be pecked out and eaten by the birds. By the time morning comes, his body will be nothing but a raw, bloody, stringy carcass. Oh, well. He had made his decision. No going back now. It was time to go home.

He turned around without a second glance at his numb and hollow twin. There were no longer tears in Liu's eyes. There wasn't a point anymore. His little brother was gone, and with him his soul and will to live. Death would bring him peace. It would make him forget; he could finally rest and leave this horrible, treacherous place. Goodbye, Jeff. Live. ~ The trek through the silent forest passed in a messy blur. The moonlight filtered through the many winding, twisting branches and trunks of the naked trees and forced the shifting shadows of the night to move aside. The mansion manifested eventually, reflecting the silver lighting and appearing to be surrounded by a fuzzy haze. A large, long and moss-covered victorian mansion that was coated with fog stood in the very middle of the deep, seemingly endless woods. Bushes and weeping willows swayed in the breeze and a spiked metal fence that encircled the vast building with multiple floors creaked.

Jeff walked into the gate aimlessly, which pushed its creaking door open and slammed shut behind him. He ascended the wooden steps that led up to the porch and entered through the intricately decorated, wide oak door that had ivy growing up its sides. A blast of warm and earth-scented air immediately enveloped Jeff as he stepped inside and shut the door behind him. After walking for some time down a dimly lit, lengthy corridor he came across the nearest living room of the lower level; Ben, Sally, Toby, Jack, and Smile Dog were all sitting around within the chamber that danced with the light of flickering flames.

The heat that emanated from there also signaled that the fireplace was lit. "Hey, he's finally back," the young girl exclaimed after glancing at the passing figure. "Where's Mr. Slender? He went out looking for you some time ago." The question evaporated before it could reach Jeff's ears. The words they exchanged with each other sounded muffled, as if they were underwater. "What's wrong with him?" "Look, he's injured." "Why d-does he look s-s-so weird?" "Ruff!"

There was no need to linger in the entrance of that room, and he didn't need any warmth from the flames. The deadpan male finally made himself back away from the group and disappeared into the blackness of the hallway. He could hear but was unable to register the conversation that gradually faded into nothing from behind him, and traveled on autopilot to the second level which contained his bedroom. Once seated, hunched, on the cushioned and cozy furniture in the unlit area, he fell apart. Any calm he had shown or felt stripped away completely to reveal the neurasthenic breakdown that had been hidden away.

Jeff began to hyperventilate and formed fists tight enough that his palms began to bleed. A headache so painful that colorful spots began to appear in his vision recked his already severely deranged brain, and a sharp agony tore at his empty stomach. He felt bile burn the back of his throat and suppressed the urge to gag and vomit all over his lap and floor. Why were there glowing, moving things and shifting, rainbowy colors growing and spreading on everything? Why were there multiple silhouettes staring at him from the corners of the room, and sparkles flashing around? It was disgusting.

The spots, sparkles, colors, monsters, screaming, sobbing, whispering, and beeping, and static. Before he was even able to get to the bathroom he was already dry retching; nothing was able to escape his stomach because there was simply nothing in it. Jeff couldn't even remember the last time he ate. Hands reached out and grasped from the walls and wide, deformed faces smiled from the ceiling and door. Breathing grew impossible and neon colors and geometric figures took over all of his vision. Things were walking and running and crawling all over the room, bursting through his door and rushing at him.

They were touching him and grabbing him, and shoving them off had no effect. He grasped blindly for his knife until finding its handle, but it was taken from his hand. "Stop it, stop it," he muttered repeatedly and dug his fingers into the ground until bruises began to form. They kept holding him and screaming at him, grasping his shoulders painfully. The demonic face was pressed up into his, yelling nonsense with an impossibly large mouth.

Jeff stared at it in horror and tried to get away from it weakly, but it just pulled him closer. It was saying his name, over and over again. How did it know his name? Jumbled and echoing words became clearer as it drew him in with strong arms. "Listen! Snap out of it!" His vision began to clear ever so slightly, giving him a clearer view of the face. It looked... familiar.

So familiar. He knew it from somewhere, but where? "Jeffrey, goddamn it! I'm right here, look at me!" Green eyes. "You look like him," Jeff mumbled, his wide eyes glazed but confused. "It is me, I swear. We can be together again, just come back, ok? Please, just come back! Don't do this!" The lights and shaped evaporated into nothing. The darkness was back, and the sounds silenced. But the face didn't leave, didn't disappear like the other ones. Huh. It really was him. It was Liu.

Scratched up and bloody from their previous fight, but still whole. No intestines dragging on the ground, no gory stumps instead of limbs, no empty eyesockets. "Are you here?" He nodded. His brother pulled him in and started quietly muttering something under his breath, his shaking voice full of absolute gratitude. Jeff was immobile and was left gazing into the shadows that shifted and played in the small section of moonlight that filtered through the open window.

He was unable cry, but Liu's tears weren't repressed in the slightest. They fell onto the other's shoulder and spread around the slash that's blood had already stopped trickling. The older boy pulled back after some long moments and looked deep into his twin's optics, taking in the snowy, oceanic pupils for the first time in years. "You know, blue's my favorite color," he smiled sadly, his voice a gentle whisper. "I like green," Jeff whispered, his throat now beginning to close up.

"I'm never gonna leave you again. I promise you, I'll never leave. I'm sorry I've been such a shitty older brother." A single salty drop escaped the pale boy and fell into his shirt. "Don't fucking say that. You were the only person I ever loved, the best brother anybody could ever ask for. I know you probably won't ever be able to forgive me, but I'm sorry. I'm so, so fucking sorry." Liu shut his eyes and buried his face into his hands, holding back a racking sob.

Turning away, Jeff set his jaw and refused to begin bawling. Why did this have to happen? Seeing the usually stoic and collected boy like that killed him inside, threatening to rip a hole through his chest. "I forgive you. How the fuck could I ever blame you, Jeff? I'll always love you." He whipped around to face Liu, who still hid his face. He could see the way his lips quivered though, the way he was trying too hard to be strong for him.

The dark-haired individual sighed heavily and looked upwards in order to contain the stinging fluid that began once again to build in his eyes. "I love you, too." He was met with a small sniffle, and a soft hand taking his freezing one. Jeff leaned on the shoulder of his brother silently. He felt exhausted. Not sleepy, but just... tired. "I wanna stay like this, Liu." "Me too." ~ Liu explained to Jeff that Slenderman agreed to keep him alive on the condition that he became a proxy, which he agreed to; now, he would remain in the Mudhouse Mansion with them. Even though he was forever required to do as the entity ordered, he was finally able to be with his brother again. That was all that mattered to him...

The End.

[moomitheartist]

-A Twisted Smile- Pt. 1

Why did his cuts never get infected? Maybe it was because of all the alcohol that he ingested daily, constantly trying to keep the voices at bay by dulling them out, that prevented bacteria from entering his wounds. Those damned voices never stopped, though; through the haze of the many drugs he took, they were always there. He could take enough that he was vomiting blood, his body couldn't function, and his dazed, foggy, muddled mind slowed to a numbing halt. But there, even if dimmed out due to the narcotized state he put himself in, they were constantly whispering and screaming in a sick and horrid cacophony; disgusting things, to kill, to hurt, telling him the most cruel and utterly evil things that a human being just couldn't dream up even in their darkest nightmares.

Bottle after bottle, pill after pill, injection after injection, and sickly sweet, intoxicating inhale after inhale of that white powder was all he could do to help himself. The dulling, deadening, and euphoric feeling those drugs caused kept his mind off the voices that told him the things. He didn't want to remember. He didn't want to remember any of it. He pondered suicide on more than one occasion; maybe that would make them stop? Maybe, possibly, hopefully that would stop the ghosts and demons of his past from tormenting him. His hallucinations were nearly unbearable. The twisted, sick, blood covered body of what use to be a teenage boy crawling to him while he was paralyzed; stab marks littered its body, the gashes so deep that you could see bone. Oh, the blood that coated its body. Too much.

Dripping from the slack mouth, trailing down its neck and spreading across the collar of its torn shirt like ruby frost. Deep cuts across both cheeks in an abnormal red smile seemed to blend together with the other lines of red that scared its face. And the worst part, the eyes. Those sparkling, wise, emerald-olive eyes that used to look at his brother lovingly and protectively: they no longer glimmered. They were dull, dead. Rolled up into the back of his head now. Sunken and dark and lifeless. His cedar hair that blew in the wind and framed his beautiful face was now soaked in dried up blood and had long ago lost its shine.

Those deathly pale and gore coated lips that had frowned so many times, telling his beloved brother to hurry up or they'll miss the school bus. And those arms that hugged so warmly and affectionately, that smacked him whenever he did something stupid were all distorted and twisted in disgusting angles. They were reaching for his throat. They wanted revenge. They wanted back blood that had been spilled all over the cold, wooden tiled floors and staircase in gallons and gallons. They wanted the life that brutally ripped away theirs. He did always manage to bolt up, grab the nearest bottle, and chug the burning and warming liquid down before those gnarled fingers could wrap around his throat.

He drank it down like his life depended on it when that thing appeared in hopes of the euphoric emptiness taking over his brain and getting rid of the excruciating memories of the past. Oh, fuck, what did I do? I'm so sorry, Liu, Jeffrey Woods thought as he leaned against the wall to keep himself up, his vision blurring and swimming. Too many substances, stimulants, and hallucinogens in one night. He let himself slide down the cold, smooth wall and sat down hard, blacking out. But, not before seeing the warped face of his older brother twist into rage and pure hatred an inch before him.

"You know that I love you, right?"

"..."

"Jeff? Are you alright? What's wrong?"

"Tell me why."

"?"

"Tell me why the fuck you don't hate me!" Jeff suddenly roared, standing up shakily yet determinedly. "Don't you fucking tell me that you love me when you're not even real!"Jeff looked down with hysteria in his piercing blue eyes to where Liu sat a couple seconds ago, met with only deafening silence and an empty room. Tears flowed freely from his manically wide eyes and stung the cuts that formed his bloody smile.

He suppressed a scream and instead smashed an empty beer bottle against the opposite wall, the shattering amplified by the noiseless in the room. His ears rung with a sort of high pitched static and voices guffawed and chuckled and insulted and teased. Jeff grabbed another glass bottle and crushed it on the ground, but this time grabbed a shard and drove it deep through his arm, laughing hysterically and beginning to salivate at the sight of the crimson pouring down his ghost white skin. It trailed all over his arm in streaks, starting to splatter onto the floor in a large, messy puddle, staining his colorless hoodie. The dull, overwhelming ache of the puncture wound was a blessing. Jeff twisted the shard deeper in, causing gore to spurt out like a miniature fountain.

The pain couldn't be described and it made him giggle harder until he was full on cackling, gasping for breath as warm tears spilled down and mixed with the blood that was starting to spread over the mahogany flooring, seeping into any cracks it could detect and worming its way through the boards. At this point, Jeff became dizzy from the loss of the bodily fluid, and stumbled slightly until he took a seat on the cozy, thick comforter that lay on his large bed. Breathing grew slightly difficult now as he wrenched the glass out of his flesh with a sickening squelch, careful to make a show of twisting it about before finally tossing it down.

Now that there was no foreign object to limit the blood flow, the red suddenly gushed out all over the fabric of the bed, creating a concerningly wide, and growing, stain. Jeffrey chuckled as he stared at the exposed insides of his limb, the intricate blue and red veins clearly visible and somewhat hanging out, obviously severed. The pink meat glistened, damaged and butchered, and the strong smell of iron invaded the room. The sight of it all, joined by the overpowering scent, caused Jeff a rush of dopamine and extreme excitement; he felt his heart rate increase rapidly, and whatever blood he had left rushed through his body. He grinned so broadly that his scars dripped red, newly opened and fresh. They never quite healed anyway.

That is, Jeff made sure that they didn't. The high soon wore off because of a dangerous lack of gore which caused him to see strange shapes and eigengrau for a couple seconds, even though his eyes were wide open. He felt too fatigued and exhausted to walk all the way to the bathroom connected to his chambers, where the first aid kit was located, so Jeff instead opened a can of alcohol with unfocused gaze and unceremoniously poured the stinging, disinfecting liquid onto his puncture. He immediately afterwards passed out cold.

An expressionless, midnight-blue mask with some sort of gruesome black liquid dripping from its dark eyesockets stood mere inches away, head cocked to the side- similar to the look of curiosity portrayed by a dog. A black hood was draped around the smooth mask, and what skin was visible from the clothing had an ashen, shadowy gray coloring to them. His tousled cinnamon-brown bangs hung in his face in spikes; the hands that were stationed on either side of Jeff's body had fingers that were in the form of sharp claws.

Jerking up, he yelled, "What the fuck, Jack?!" Eyeless Jack backed up off the bed slightly and tilted his blank, masked face in the opposite direction, seemingly in question. "Why the hell did you come into my room, asshole? You could've fucking knocked at least!""..." "Tch, whatever. Get out." Jeff's request was met with a slow headshake, and Jack instead wandered off into the bathroom next door to return a couple seconds later with the shiny white medical kit. The raven-haired adolescent glared at the taller boy in resentment and indignation, remembering the still raw and throbbing wound on his right arm.

"I'll do it myself, give me the damn thing." Yet again, Jack refused and took a seat besides Jeff, crossing his legs. "Not... good... to do that," he whispered in a quiet and clearly underused voice, which was slight raspy and hoarse. This caught the other by surprise; he practically never spoke, only doing so when necessary. "Don't... hurt yourself..." "Why should you care, dickhead? Don't fucking tell me what to do, give me the kit, and get out of my room." Jack suddenly reached up and removed his mask, his sleek locks slipped down from the forehead of the mask and fluttered down to his staring, empty, cold eyesockets.

Threads of inky black sludge stuck to the surface as it pulled away, then began flowing freely down his sunken cheeks. His cupids bow lips were pale and had a sort of natural frown to them. His expression was flat and neutral- the diminished look on his face clearly indicated a noticeable lack of emotion within him. "I'll do it" he muttered, placing his mask down onto the mattress. The eerie and off-putting part of the loss of his eyes was the feeling of constantly being stared at and studied, no matter where Jack's attention was directed towards when facing you.

By now, Jeff the Killer had given up trying to convince the cannibalistic creature to leave him alone. Instead he wordlessly stared right back and didn't resist when the boy opened the first aid kit and picked up his arm to begin the disinfecting process. The vast knowledge Jack had on the medical field put the serial killer at ease, and so he sat still and didn't utter a peep as the former continued his work. After cleaning thoroughly, doing several more stitches than should be necessary for a single arm, and tightly bandaging up the injury, Eyeless Jack put all the medical equipment back into the box and shut it with finality.

He stood up, put his mask back on, and returned the object back to the restroom's cabinet before washing the bloodstains off his hands. Jeff inspected the now gauze-wrapped arm which stung sharply with the seams that were littered underneath, holding the damaged and mangled flesh together. He glanced up to the brunette just before he exited the large, poster-covered, cigarette and liquor scented chambers.

"...hey, jackass. Thanks, I guess," he said. Jack turned his head to the direction of the speaker and gave a single nod; he quietly opened the door and slipped out without a single word.

...

"Severe depression, bipolar disorder, schizophrenia, sociopathy, post traumatic stress disorder, and sleep paralysis," Ben suddenly said from his seat on the cushioned leather couch. He was currently playing away on his gaming console, eyes fixated to the large TV screen as he neared the end of his level. Jack, Toby, and the blond-haired boy were sitting in the living room. They were the only remaining beings in the mansion as the other members had left a couple hours ago, each having their own thing to do in the dead, cold, wintery outside.

Those three, and Jeff, who was and had been holed up in his room ever since the morning. "Huh?" Toby asked, taking his gaze off the falling snowflakes outside of a frosted, fogged up window. Jack slightly turned his head towards the boy as well in acknowledgement. "Those are the disorders that I noticed him suffering from." Ben motioned to the upper level of the mansion with a jerk of his head to clarify of whom he spoke of. "O-oh, Jeff. What ab..about it?"

The boy with messy, carob-brown hair, pale skin, and dark eyes that were shadowed with circles stuttered over his words and gave an involuntary switch in-between his question, which was due to an intense case of Tourette Syndrome, one of the many mental disorders that he possessed. "Hasn't come out of his room for more than three times the entire week," the pointy-eared individual muttered indifferently, reaching into his bag of chips as he beat his game, then started up another level.

His black eyes had illuminating scarlet pupils and from them blood trailed down his sickly, misty-bluish cheekbones. He blew a section of his honey-blond bangs out of his face subconsciously. "Yeah. Got any idea what h-his problem is?" "Nah. Probably another depressive episode, those can just come out of nowhere." Toby snickered and commented, "F-f-funny how quickly his moods c-can change. Just y-yesterday he was strutting through the fucking hallway like he owned the place. His narcissism rea-really pisses me off. A-always calling himself beautiful, arrogant b-bastard."

Ben made a sound of understanding. "Eh. I do like how he calls you 'Spaz' and 'Crick'," he chuckled, taking a sip of his Red Bull.

"Fuck you," he snapped. As the two boys began arguing, Jack just looked emptily at the sharp, glinting icicles that decorated the window's rail. "Hey. Wonder... if he'll kill himself?" Toby and Ben, who were wrestling on the floor, looked up at the masked creature who just spoke. "No. Jeff's too full of himself to end it just like that. If anything, that freak's gonna get killed by saying the wrong shit to God," the blonde grinned, shoving the freckled brunette off of him.

Toby cackled and rolled onto his side. "I-if that doesn't end him, I will!" The pair laughed some more. Jack, silent as ever, pondered. He believed that Ben was right; the spontaneous, sadistic, merciless and self-centered killer had an ego so large, that even if he by some miracle decided to slip a rope around his neck, it wouldn't be able to fit around his inflated head. Probably.

The cannibal left his companions to pick a book off of the nearest shelf, deciding that he spent enough time pondering over Jeff and his fate. It hardly was his business and didn't bother him much either way...~ "I'm going out," Jeff announced as he walked towards the front door, gripping the knife in his hoodie's pocket tightly. "Don't stay out too late. It's only getting colder, Jeffrey," Slenderman calmly stated from his seat in the black leather Wingback chair near the roaring fireplace. Truth be told, the ancient, faceless creature didn't need the warmth similar to how humans do not require chocolate. It's comfortable and convenient, but not necessary.

"Aw, come on! It's freezing out there, don't go," Sally whined, clutching her damaged and ripped teddy bear to her chest. Her dirty, bloodied pink dress pooled around her petite frame and she looked after the boy with large chartreuse eyes. The noirette ignored the little girl and shut the door behind him loudly. Sally huffed and pulled on a coiled lock of her soft brown hair. "I hope he doesn't catch a cold." ~ The bloodlust became much to powerful to contain any longer. Jeff's black and white Converses left tracks through the fallen snow as he walked through the chilling, dark forest, hood up and hands pocketed.

His blue eyes seemed to reflect the shining moonlight as he stared into nothing. All that occupied his deranged mind was blood and murder and dead bodies. Oh, and not to leave out the amusing screaming and begging from his poor, unsuspecting victims. Standing silently over their beds as they rested peacefully...that is, until they squirmed under an unknown gaze and opened their eyes. It was so satisfying to feel them squirm underneath his iron grip, sobbing and shrieking prayers. The feeling of flesh meeting metal, smiles carved into cheeks, and slicing their neck so brutally that it nearly fell off their shoulder. All that excitement and suffering always aroused him. Who wouldn't it?

The dominating feeling of being in full control of somebody's survival mixed with the flowing crimson decorating the body and nearby surfaces was such a beautiful sight... Looking up, the pale being noticed that he reached a neighborhood that stood near the edge of the woods. There was a large house at the beginning of the street that caught his attention the most due to its noticeable lack of lighting. What a perfect find.

The body of a teenage boy was dragged across the floor by the leg, leaving a thick trail of dark red behind it. Jeff tossed it to the pile of two other forms in the middle of the living room, a woman and a man. He grinned at the sight of the lifeless family, together for the last time in this world. Well, so he thought. A weak, nearly inaudible whimper sounded from one of the three; a closer inspection revealed that the boy was still breathing- albiet faintly. The murderer grabbed a handful of his brown, messy hair and stared into his unfocused and agony-filled brown eyes. "Huh. Still alive, you little twirp? Don't worry, I'll fix that. "

The effort of forming a sentence caused him to choke on a mix of gore and spit. "Just go to sleep." The knife's blade sunk into the boy's neck and tore out of the other end with a goey ripping sound; he began vomiting up blood with shocked eyes that looked into iridescent blue pupils. The liquid splashed all over Jeff's already splattered hoodie and joined the many dripping streaks of scarlet on his ghostly face. A final retch and convulsion was the last movement the teenager gave before going completely limp, eyes abundant of light and rolled to the back his skull.

There was a dull thud as the black-haired male released his grip on the still warm body. He gave one final kick to the lady's carved up face before walking out of the house with his bloody hands in his pockets. An eerie, unsettling tune was whistled as he thought back to the vocals of the boy's mother, the way she screamed so shrilly after seeing her husband's dead body looking right at her on their bed. She begged for her life so desperately, little fucking slut.

And all the squirming she manged to do before he stabbed her chest multiple times was honestly impressive. He knew why she was so persistent, though; it was because of her son. The need to protect him was so strong that she was still moving around even after the seventh wound, trying weakly to shove him away. Her wasted efforts of grabbing the fabric of his clothing in order to get him away amused Jeff so much that he felt as though he wasn't done just yet. "Worried about the brat, hm?" Her teary hazel eyes widened in pure fear. "No need to get you panties up in a twist, bitch. He's already gone."

A smile of enjoyment danced across his red lips as he backed away from the choking lady. "Let me show you." A hoarse scream bubbled up from her throat as a motionless adolescent was dumped onto the foot of her bed, just out of reach of her grasping arms. "Aw, don't be so sad! You really should smile a little more..." Jeff the Killer grabbed her chin and moved his knife to graze her quivering, gasping lips. "That pretty face of yours isn't gonna do you any good if you're always frowning." He plunged the blade into the sides of her mouth and dragged upwards to create a crooked smile, matching the ones her son and spouse wore so beautifully. He was truly doing these miserable people a generous favor, indeed.

Her high-pitched, jumbled up pleas caused drool to drip past her now bleeding mouth, further stimulating his already excited body, causing him to supress a little sound of pleasure. A long string of red was connected to the metal of the sharp weapon as the lady's killer pulled it out of her mouth and licked the fresh, carmine gore and saliva off the blade's side. "Thanks for the show," Jeff drawled with a smirk, placing the tool into his black jeans. The life slowly drained from her, the bloodloss catching up and adrenaline seeping away... Jeff was bought back to the present as an especially noisy gust of freezing wind whooshed around him, causing his ruffled and messy jet-black hair to blow into his face persistently.

"Damn, where the fuck did the light go?" He noticed the darkness that had heavily coated his surroundings; however, his excellent night vision kept him from bumping into any object that could be littered across the pavement. After a turn, Jeff came to a series of alleyways- each seemed to lead into a foggy, endless void. The unsettling atmosphere, however, wasn't what caused him to freeze. It was the casual footsteps that echoed around the many damp walls, causing it to sound as though it came from every direction.

A previously burnt-out lamppost slowly flickered to life as the person walking grew closer. Jeff, strangely, didn't duck out of sight or turn around to return to the forest that stood nearby; instead, he stared in fixation at the alley from which the footsteps were coming from and didn't budge. What's wrong with me? Why can't I leave? A shiny, black, leather lace-up boot stepped out from the shadows. The light illuminated the rest of the person's body as they revealed themselves fully; they wore dark blue jeans, a deep-green blazer coat, and a striped light and dark gray scarf around their shoulders. A rosary with a golden cross shimmered from the illumination of the lamppost, resting on the chest of their black V-necked shirt.

Jeffrey Woods slowly moved his gaze upward... strangely, it felt as though his brain was screaming at him not to look. The shocked, astonished face of an older and taller boy gazed right back at him. A boy who's emerald-olive eyes sparkled, a boy who had cedar hair, and a boy whose parted lips had a warm, alive color to them. The two males stood perfectly still, staring at the other with astounded faces. The only noise was the howling and moaning breeze that swept through the neighborhood.

Crows cawed and cackled from bare, snow-covered branches and frozen powerlines, laughing at the foolish and cruel world from their pirches. Conversing among their all-knowing and wise selves about humanity and our fate that will inevitably come to steal us all away, taking us to an unknown place. Snowflakes slowed their descent to watch these selfish humans; these ignorant creatures who did not understand the universe and what lay beyond their meaningless lives. The wind whispered to the trees of the flaws of us all, how we are all much too arrogant to see past anything except our own lives which seem too important to us.

The beings of the world that we see as low and unknowing understand more than humanity could ever wish to. And they recall witnessing the stormy night that a good person's mind snapped and plunged into pure and absolute insanity; the events which happened that horrible night ruined the lives and relationship of two people. Two people who had unbreakable love for each other and a bond that most of this world isn't blessed with in their lifetime; an unbreakable bond that had painfully been twisted and ripped apart. "...Jeff?"

"Tch. I was wondering when you'd show. Oh well, you'll disappear soon anyways." The younger male began walking forwards and brushed past the other boy, who had not moved a muscle ever since he came into view. Just before he rounded a corner that led out of the mess of tall, winding walls, an ear-shattering and deafening crack exploding in the once-peaceful atmosphere. Jeff suddenly stumbled and grabbed the smooth, cold surface of bricks to keep himself upright. His enlarged eyes traveled down to look at his chest, where a blossoming pool of blood began to grow into an alarming size. He put a hand over the left side of his thorax, where the gunshot wound now began to wetly spurt gore, and turned back around in bewilderment. "Did you miss me, brother?"

Liu had a gun raised, the muzzle still smoking from the previous shot. The swirling smoke vanished into the negative degrees air, drifting heavenwards. His hallucinations had never maimed his physical body before, and they especially never pulled a gun's trigger and buried a bullet into his chest. That meant... this was not a figment of his deteriorated mind's imagination... that meant that he was real. "W-what the fuck? No. No, you're fake. You're gonna leave soon. Yeah, you're just trying to trick me," Jeff quickly stuttered out.

The brunet approached his brother and pushed the gun into his abdomen, his finger tightening on the trigger. "Oh, I'm here. I'm right fucking here." His eyes shone with rage, and was that... lunacy? Jeff was utterly speechless, and his mind screeched to a halt as he stared up at the face of a person he had murdered so long ago. How, how was he back? "No, no, no. I-I killed you. I stabbed you over and over again, I saw, I saw you die right in front of me! You stopped breathing, I felt it! How are you still alive," he rambled as mania and panic began to overtake him.

The gun was pushed deeper into him as the other sneered. "You fucking left me to die. You horrible, disgusting excuse of a brother. You're nothing but a damn liar! You told me that you loved me! You said you'd do anything for me! And then you stabbed a godamn knife into my heart," he screamed, shoving the pale boy into the wall and beginning to cry. Madness overtook any sanity that remained in his pained, tear-filled gaze. Jeff just now truly noticed the stitches and scars that were littered from his face to his neck, across his nose bridge, left cheek, and on both sides of his mouth. They looked much more healed up and faded than his, treated properly and kept an eye on.

"You would've killed me, if it weren't for those neighbors who called me an ambulance! I almost died in that hospital multiple times, and what was the only thing I felt whenever I woke up? The most unbearable pain I've ever felt in my entire fucking life! How could you, Jeff? How the hell could you do that to me?" His tears were dripping freely down his flushed cheeks and the look of absolute despair tore at the other boy's frozen heart. "I didn't-"

"You what? Huh? You didn't want to kill me? You were laughing, you psychopath! I was begging you, and you laughed in my face!" There was no response. "That's what I thought. Now that I've finally tracked you down, I'll do the same you meant to do to me. I'm gonna kill you, Jeff." A split second before a bullet shot through his stomach, he pushed Liu's arm away and pulled out his knife, raising the reflective blade and pouncing forward. Before he could embed the weapon into the boy, he quickly recovered from his surprise and sidestepped out of the way, causing Jeff to almost loose his footing. However, he righted himself back up immediately and faced his rival once again with hate etched into his expression.

He needed to get that gun away from Liu somehow, and fast. That, or make him use up all the remaining bullets. Yes, that wouldn't require him to get too close, thus increasing the probability of only mild injury if he didn't keep on a predictable path. "You wanna kill me that bad? Then start shooting, pussy," he taunted. Liu frowned and began to fire bullets in his direction, aiming for his head. The casings clattered loudly to the ground as they were ejected. Jeff pivoted out of the range of the weapon with seemingly inhuman reflex, and stood ready to duck once again as the older boy cursed and fired once more.

Well, tried to. Only an empty clicking sound could be heard instead of the usual bangs that were emitted. "Oh, goddamn it." He threw the useless handgun to the concrete and pulled out a folding knife from his coat's inner pocket, preparing for his brother's next move. The noirette grinned at his victory; he began walking towards the other male, his knife clenched tightly in his fist.

As soon as he neared Liu, he sprinted forward and slashed at his heart, which was deflect with another blade. He ceased the boy's shirt and bought the knife down into his arm, forming a deep gash that immediately began leaking. The wounded individual grunted in pain, then furiously drove his weapon into his younger brother's shoulder. He hissed and slashed at his face but the latter quickly drew back, before being tackled to the floor; his knife skittered just out of reach as he lost his grip.

The murderer drew his arm back and attempted to slice the struggling boy's neck, but was stopped as Liu grabbed his arm with both hands, trying urgently to keep it from plunging into his flesh. They each struggled with the other until the brunette managed to gain enough force to push Jeff off of himself and simultaneously yanked the broad, bloody knife out of his hand. The two were back on their feet in a heartbeat, both scratched up and panting heavily. "Give it back," the blue eyed boy growled, the utter and visible intent to kill in his penatrating gaze.

"No." Before the taller boy could attempt to overtake his furious enemy, a scream sounded from somewhere deeper in the neighborhood. "The Barlowes are dead! " The gunshots had woken up the residents of the street and the unhinged door of the Barlowe family caused one of them to wander inside; they were greeted with the bodies of a child and his parents upon arrival. Of course, Jeff had left obvious signs of disturbance on the property to alert the neighbors and authorities of yet another attack of his- he didn't expect to stay around as long as he did, leaving him visible to any who had the intention of searching for the murderer.

He cursed and began backing away, but was seized by the other immediately. "You're not fucking going anywhere, asshole! I'm not letting you leave again, I swear!" "We'll see about that, son of a bitch." Elbowing Liu in the side roughly, he snatched his knife back and took off down a lit alley. He was pursued by his older twin withing a second.

A series of twists and turns made it difficult to keep up, but never deterred the green-eyed boy from chasing after the other. In several seconds, a final corner revealed the end of the maze of walls, and the entrance of the unilluminated forest greeted them. "No, you don't-!" Liu couldn't let his brother escape into the forest; the absolute abundance of any light source would make in all too easy for Jeff to lose him.

[moomitheartist]

-The Departure of Our Lord-

A drawing mood board that represents darker, Satanic-inclined ideals including the demonization of angels and humanity. Requests for art and short stories are always welcome!

[moomitheartist]

A Self-Portrait

Requests are welcome! If you have any ideas for a drawing or short story, I'm more than happy to look into it!

[moomitheartist]

Wednesday Addams Sketch

"Wednesday's child is full of woe..." (and exasperation)

[moomitheartist]

Within the Captives of Sorrow

This piece was created to symbolize the embodiment of depression and the darkness of sorrow- if you have any art or writing requests, my dms are open.

[moomitheartist]

-A Dark Little Basement Story For My Love-

The teenage boy stood still in his room, staring persistently at the wall with unfocused, glassy eyes. His icy blue irises reflected the blue flickering light of his computer screen, which his right side faced as he looked into empty space.

He doesn’t love me back. He doesn’t love me back. He doesn’t love me back. What have I done wrong? I’ve done everything for him… he always just looks the other way. What am I doing wrong?

 He didn’t have a reason to live anymore, but at the same time he wanted to… if only to see his beloved’s face. Whenever he walked the long, colorless hallways of his school, he constantly glanced around like a hyperactive madman in hopes of catching sight of the 12th grade senior. His ruffled, dirty-blonde hair, his honey brown eyes that seemed like endless pools of liquid gold, his perfect lightly tanned skin, and the friendly, cheerful smile he wore on his face. The sophomore always stared at him in hopes of catching his eye, but he never noticed. Ever.

 There was one time, though. One.

 A large group of students were gathered around the entrance of the gymnasium for a teacher-student meeting (discussion and preparation for an upcoming trip to Colorado, or something along the lines of that), and the teenager lost his footing because of an accidental bump from behind; he practically slammed right into a solid, toned torso and immediately looked up in embarrassment and shock as he backed up unsteadily. A pair of glittering, warm eyes greeted his gaze.

 “Hey, are you okay?”

 The older, taller boy asked in concern as he grabbed the other’s elbow to steady him. “You got shoved pretty hard, I felt that impact,” he chuckled.

 “S-sorry…” he automatically whispered, so quietly that not even he could hear himself.

 “Hello? You alright?”

 “I’m sorry,” he repeated, just loudly enough for the blonde to hear.

 “It’s fine, you don’t have to apologize. I think you’re the new student, the one who arrived a couple days ago. What’s your name again? I’m kind of sure I see you around pretty often.”

 “Zach,” he muttered, staring with wide eyes at his true love.

 “Ah, now I remember! Zachary… Haine?”

 He numbly nodded.

 The crowd that before made him feel constricted and suffocated now disappeared entirely. They seemed like zooming blurs surrounding an ethereal scene that determined how the rest of the movie would unfold. The single, most important and crucial part of a novel that meant life or death for the entirety of the cast.

 “Ok, well, see you around. The doors are opening, I gotta go. Bye!”

 And with that, it was over. He disappeared. Suddenly, the conversation seemed to evaporate into thin air, the previous nearly unbearable tension gone away in a gust of wind. It was over. He blew it; he should have said something, anything, to keep the conversation going! Why did he have to freeze up so stupidly like that?! He looked like an idiot, and now the love of his life would never speak to him again.

 He didn’t even notice the illumination of his computer go out as it shut down because of the abundance of activity. The now black, void-like atmosphere of the room did nothing to stir the boy out of his thoughts of last month. Even though he could no longer see the dark gray wall, he continued to stare into the exact same direction.

 Why did Zach fall in love with him in the first place? He didn’t know why. The first day he transferred to Bay Laurel Grove Private School of Success, the moment he stepped foot into the reception lobby he only saw the blond, brown-eyed senior speaking to the lady at the front desk. The elegance of his hand gestures and smooth, kind tone only drew in the sophomore further. Zach’s stomach immediately became a bottomless pit and his frozen heart began beating harder than it ever had before. He couldn’t even remember how long he just stood there like a braindead moron, but eventually the tall boy walked through the automatic doors and disappeared down one of the brightly lit hallways; only then did he feel as though he snapped out of his trance. Since the popular senior was mainly upstairs (because that was where grades 11-12 had their classes), Zach almost never saw him. The next time he did, it was when he was making out with a girl inside of the library. Marie, he had later on learned. His girlfriend.

 From that moment on, he had despised her. She only got in the way. And that was why he had killed her after a few weeks.

 Marie walked out of the girl’s bathroom, shaking her hands to dry the water droplets off of her hands; she glanced up and saw him looking at her, a blank expression on his face.

 “Hi! You’re the new kid who transferred a month ago, right? It’s nice to meet you!”

 She was beautiful. Her long brown hair, sparkling green eyes, pink cheeks, and sweet personality made her a more than perfect match for her boyfriend, which is why Zach needed her gone. When she died, he would replace her. He would comfort the heartbroken 12th grader, stay by his side, and he was bound to love him back… it was quite a promising plan.

 Without warning, he grabbed her silky hair in a tight fist and slammed a hand over mouth, muffling her screams. He dragged her into the same library where she kissed his beloved, and threw her down to the ground, locking the heavy insulated door behind them.

 “What are you doing?! What’s wrong?!" She cried out, stumbling to her feet.

 “I’m gonna kill you, bitch,” he breathed out, reaching into his book bag and pulling out a large, shining butcher knife. Her eyes went wide and she began to back away at the sight of the tightly-grasped weapon in the boy’s hands. 

 “Why,” she asked in a whisper, pressing up against a towering bookshelf.

 “Because he’s fucking mine,” he hissed, stepping forward and covering her mouth once again. “Try not to scream too loudly.”

 He plunged the knife deep into her belly and yanked it back out, a spray of crimson liquid squirting out of the gaping hole and coating his entire front. Zach felt deep vibrations in his palm as she released a blood-curdling shriek, fighting madly to yank his iron-grip off of her lips.

 Again and again, he cut, stabbed, slashed, and tore open her stomach furiously; buckets of bright red gore splashed everywhere. Staining the floor, their clothes, their bodies, the walls, and the shelves stacked with now drenched books. Every minute, her cries grew weaker along with her body, until she slumped over into him. The sudden slope of her body’s angle caused her soft, hot, gooey intestines and organs to plop wetly onto the carpeted floor and their previously pristine shoes.

 The slimy and slippery body matter along with loose chunks of belly flesh lay still in the pools of nearly dried, dark red. The boy released his grip on Marie’s mouth and allowed her trembling body to hit the ground. He kneeled down next to her and made eye contact with the older girl, who was still desperately holding on to life.

 “Please,” she mouthed, unable to get her raw vocal chords to function properly.

 “Let you live? So you can fuck your boyfriend some more? I don’t think so.”

 He lifted her head by her blood-drenched locks and shoved the dripping knife into her throat, so deep that only part of the handle was visible; he wiggled and shifted the blade about inside of her spasming throat, making sure to sever the trachea and other vital nerves. Even more blood gushed out from between her parted lips and poured down her already-stained, dark gray uniform blazer.

 Ripping out the blade bought about even more spasms and shivers, going on for several long seconds before her blood shot eyes finally rolled back into their sockets and she stilled. With grit teeth, he plunged his fingers into both eye-holes and gouged the two dull emerald optics out of her head, then shoved them deep into her gaping mouth. “Choke on those balls for a change, you damn whore.”

 Breathing heavily, Zach stood up and quickly threw the bloody weapon down next to her, along with tossing the black gloves he wore into the trash chute on a nearby wall. He slipped through the back exit at the end of the library, where he was certain that nobody would see him.

 When he checked the news that night, the main headline was “Highschool Student Found Brutally Murdered in School Library”. The details of her identity were in the online article, but the gruesome specifics of the murder were understandably left out. Police, who had swarmed the school to try and catch the girl’s murderer, came up empty handed. They warned everyone near the building to be extremely wary of any suspicious individual; however, they suspected that the killer personally knew the victim due to the brutality of her murder. It was not likely that they were a serial killer with randomized victims, but they advised residents near Bay Laurel Grove Private School of Success to stay inside nonetheless until the criminal was brought to justice.

 There were also interviews with Marie Stoller’s parents and boyfriend. Zach immediately skipped over the former, and went straight to the interview with the teenager.

 Throughout the entire four minutes of the video, he seemed utterly catatonic and rather unresponsive, only giving short “yes" or “no”'s to questions the pretty female interviewer asked (who was very understanding and empathetic towards the boy, and never rushed him).

 Zach couldn’t keep the grin from forming on his ghostly-pale face as he watched the video play out, his cold eyes staying trained, transfixed, on his senior’s expressionless visage.

 “I love you so much,” he whispered, a blush forming over his previously bloodless cheeks. “I’ll do anything for you. Anything you need from me, I’ll never fail to obey you… Alistair Madden.”

 The name of the teenager tasted so right on his lips. He wanted Alistair so badly, he wanted to feel him, taste him-

 Just then, Zach snapped out of his long, memory-filled trance and noticed the abundance of light in his quarters. He moved the electronic clicker connected to his computer to illuminate the atmosphere once more and dispel the oppressive timeless void. 

 Now he remembered why he did what he did. His love for his upperclassmen was far too great to withhold any longer, and that’s why Zach took him. It was utterly impossible to try and push down his feelings, not to mention pointless. Alistair must love him just as much, but he was probably too afraid to accept his own emotions. Zach just wanted to give him a little push…

 The morning was crisp and dull, the wind blew through your very soul and the gray sky shadowed all the vibrancy of the autumn’s foliage. It was nearly noiseless, save for the few lonely cardinals deciding to leave their cozy and comforting nests for a brief opportunity to fly around in the open air. Alistair silently walked alongside the cold river’s stone path concealed by the beautiful but dying trees; he felt numb inside and was hopelessly lost in thought, memories of the girl he loved racing through his mind like a glitching, malfunctioning projector. The twittering bird was quickly becoming a nuisance to him as it seemed to call on and on for some deserved attention, and so Alistair strayed from the main path and deeper into the nearly lifeless woods. It was even more silent over there with the cardinal’s cries now muffled from the many canopies and branches.

Why was it her and not me? The boy couldn’t help but repeat the question over and over again in his mind- it just wasn’t fair. She had never done anything wrong in her life, and yet she had such a cruel and gruesome fate; Marie always told him that they would get married when they were older, and now that time would never come. Why was it her and not me?

 There was suddenly the sound of a snapping twig coming from somewhere behind Alistair, yet before he could spin around to look behind him there was an explosion of pain in his skull and then, nothing at all. Not even a sound- just an empty, inescapable place of loneliness.

 Zach recalled when he stood up from his seat and made his way across the dim chambers of his house, through the hallway, down the stairs, into the kitchen, and stopped at the beginning of the steps leading down to the basement. It was as though a hole of black energy swallowed up not only the light, but all that existed within it. He flipped on the light switch and stared down at the bolted iron door at the bottom of the many steps. He let out a breath and began walking down the stairs, each creak being amplified by the echoes that bounced around the low area’s cold walls. From a chain he kept tucked into his collar, Zach used the tiny silver key to unlock the many bolts, then slipped through the entrance and shut the door behind him. 

 Only darkness.

 He felt along the wall for another light switch, seeking it out with his fingers, then grasped the small handle and flicked it upward. This illumination was much less prominent than the previous one, but it did the job; he could now see the bound and gagged body of a person restrained in a chair. The individual was slumped and looked very much unconscious.

 Ropes and chairs were looped around the person, looking like some sick and twisted gift box ribbon. A soft cloth was tied around their jaw like a kind but authoritative significant other, and their upper features were blurred by a harsh shadow cast by the concentrated light source. A soft groan was muffled by the fabric that gagged them, and the person stirred and shifted slightly. They lifted their head to look at the sudden visitor and their eyes widened in fear. 

 Zach approached Alistair’s now still form and smiled softly as he reached out a hand to touch his golden locks, but the older boy jerked away with a fatigued but furious look in his eyes. The noirette sighed and pulled back. It wasn’t his plan to get into his senior’s life so quickly, but he doubted that a better opportunity would have presented itself than when they were in the forest, all alone.

 “Are you really still denying your feelings? I was also scared to come out at first, but you’re a whole other level of stubborn.”

 The younger boy removed Alistair’s gag to allow a response from him.

 “Fuck you.”

 Zach rolled his icy eyes and sighed once again in agitation. “I’m losing my patience with you, Alistair. How much longer will it take for you to give in?”

 “What the hell are you talking about?! You’re a sick psychopath, why the fuck are you doing this to me?!”

 “I’m not a psychopath, and you’re lying. I know that you feel the same way about me as I do about you.”

 “I don’t love you- you’re delusional, as well. How many times will I have to tell you until you understand?”

 Zach crouched down in front of his prisoner and looked deeply into his dark eyes, silently willing some miraculous change of mind. “Just think. Think about me. What do you feel, really? Just tell the truth.”

 The blond teenager looked back into his captor’s cold gaze and did exactly what he was told to do.

 “In the past, I had no opinion on you whatsoever. You were only another one of the meaningless faces of the many people I passed by every day; I gave you no thought at all and when I spoke to you that one time, it was as though I was on autopilot. The only reason I remember you at all is because I always caught you staring at me.”

 He listened intently and nodded as Alistair spoke.

 “I understand.”

 “But now that I know who you really are, I absolutely despise you. You disgust me with your delusions and pointless insisting, and I hate you for doing this to me. How long have I been here now? Four fucking days, I think. Just give up already, Zachary. I’m just unable to love you, can you please accept that?”

 The sophomore grew ridgid as his senior spoke. After he was done talking, Zach stood up wordlessly. His eyes were obscured by his raven bangs as he paced before the chair.

 “I killed her.”

 “What.”

 “I killed your fucking girlfriend. I know you didn’t love her, Alistair. I did it for you.”

 The brown eyed boy’s eyes widened and his mouth opened slightly in horror; a shiver ran down his spine as he finally understood who Marie’s murderer was.

 “Do you finally see how much I love you? I murdered somebody for you.”

 The pale boy drew ever closer as he spoke, and he was now only inches away from the thunderstruck blond. His frost blue gaze traveled down to his soft lips and he nearly crashed into Alistair in a passionate kiss; his hands moved from gripping his light hair to caressing his cheeks. The other was nearly catatonic, and so he didn’t register that a murderer was embracing him tightly- the shock along with the lack of eating for such a long time clearly contributed to his mind temporarily deadening.

 The noirette took this lack of resistance as an invitation and slipped his tongue into Alistair’s mouth, saliva trailing down his jaw as he breathed heavily into the other’s lips.

 The senior abruptly felt the intrusion and gasped as he pulled back to the best of his ability, causing Zach to do the same.

 “What is it now,” he muttered, wiping away their liquids.

 “Get away from me, you monster,” Alistair whispered. 

 “Why did you change your mind so suddenly? I know that you enjoyed it.”

 “Enjoyed it?! You’re fucking crazy! You just told me that you killed my girlfriend and then you kissed me, I was unresponsive! I didn’t enjoy it,” he shouted.

 “Well, I tried. I tried the easy approach because I didn’t want to have to hurt you. But sometimes, a little pain is beneficial; hopefully you’ll realize how much I love you with a little more direct approach.”

 Zach turned and walked away, shutting the basement’s heavy door behind him with a resonating thud. Confusion joined despair in Alistair’s fogged mind as he looked at the receding shadow of his captor traveling up the staircase. Why would he have just up and left after saying something so cryptic and off-putting? The blond felt as though a bucket of ice water was dumped all over his body as a feeling of dread made its way through his veins, and he wondered why the sensation was so prominent and severe in his blood. His stomach churned with anxiety paired with the lack of food as faint footsteps grew louder and louder; the door’s hinges screeched and moaned as a slim, dark shadow slipped through and shut it quietly.

 “Don’t worry, I’m back now,” it whispered in an even and calm tone. Well, that’s exactly what Alistair was afraid of… that, and the thick, long needle glimmering in the illumination of the lightbulb that was clutched in Zach’s hand; a shimmery, strange pale liquid sloshed gently as it moved.

 “A special, homemade concoction of methamphetamine, cocaine, and fluoxetine powder, all mixed up in vodka. This should work almost immediately; it’ll make you uncoordinated and submissive enough to not try and escape while we have fun.”

 “Fun?! What’s that supposed to mean?!” The older boy struggled to free himself from his prison as his assailant approached casually.

 “You’ll find out soon enough.”

 Without warning, the noirette grabbed his prisoner’s restrained arms and pressed the syringe’s broad needle deep into Alistair's most visible vein, injecting the drugs into his bloodstream with an expectant smile.

 The captive began protesting but as the needle left his arm, his words began to slur and become incoherent and drawn out. He groaned in discomfort as the drugs began to take their full effect on his already exhausted body, with Zach impatiently waiting besides him.

 “I think you’re incapacitated enough to be unable to resist too much,” he told Alistair. “Let’s start.”

                                                                         … 

He doesn’t love me back. He doesn’t love me back. He doesn’t love me back.  He tried everything, he tried so much. Pain, pleasure, love, hate, comfort, severity. So many alterations and similarities, yet whenever he was lucid and aware, Alistair never confessed his love. Three weeks of trial and repeated error, and it was all so baffling and wrong. 

 Zach tapped his clicker absentmindedly in order to half heartedly preserve the blue, flickering light of the bored computer. 

 “Maybe I’ll try again,” he mumbled to himself. “I can’t give up, not yet.”

 He got up from his desk and left his room for the first time in 24 hours, making his way through the lengthy halls and arriving at the basement door. A strange bitter yet sweet smell wafted up the stairs, but then again it was like that for a while now. How many days exactly? He couldn’t seem to recall. 

 The door creaked open for the umpteenth time and Zach descended the flights leading to the lowest level of the house; here, the unpleasant smell was much stronger, but he didn’t register the overpowering odor at all. The only thing in his mind was seeing Alistair once again. 

 A figure sat in the shadowy chair, still as ever. The blue-eyed boy walked nearer to the seated individual and began speaking once again, hoping to receive a desired response from his captive. 

 “Have you changed your mind yet?”

 There was nothing but utter silence and stillness from the slouched figure.

 “Don’t tell me you’re still fucking angry, Alistair!”

 Quiet.

 Finally losing all remaining patience, Zach lashed out and shoved the form in blind fury; there was a wet thud as it fell backwards right into the light, visible as it was now bathed in golden rays.

 The half-rotten and decayed corpse that used to be a handsome teenage boy was bloated and spurting bodily fluids out as the impact shook up its slimy, foul innards. Maggots crawled in and out of puffy red eye sockets and bluish stomach, burrowing into a gaping mouth and partially severed limbs. Most of the cadaver was a brown, sticky liquid by now, and the flesh that remained looked tender and squishy and crawled with insects on every inch. The smell was horrid and unbearable, a strong scent of rotten meat as well as syrupy and sugary undertones.

 Nothing of this horrible sight was registered by Zach in the slightest, and so he crouched down beside the squirming mass of melting meat and continued lecturing the husk of his past love.

 “I know that it’s hard, I know you miss your family and friends. But trust me, this is the only way. I just love you so much, that’s why I’m doing this.”

 A white, juicy worm crawled out of the bloated and pus-coated lips of the deformed face, then returned inside using the entrance of a particularly loose flap of skin.

 “You understand, don’t you?”

 “I love you, too.”

 Zach gasped in surprise, lurching back. “What?!”

 “I love you, too, Zach. I always have. I’m just sorry it took me so long to tell you that..”

 The body spoke with a tender voice as its soulless sockets stared lovingly into wide, icy eyes.

 “Thank you.. for finally telling me that. I’m at a loss for words, I’m so happy! Now we can finally be together, forever. I’ll never leave your side, Alistair.”

 “And I’ll never leave yours, my love.”

 The sophomore smiled a delightful, bright smile and leaned down to hug the cadaver of his beloved senior.

 “Forever…”

                                                                        …

 “Three.. Two… One! Police, come out and put your hands up now!”

 The front door flew open as five officers came running, holding up their guns and barking orders to one another. 

 “You, check the basement!”

 “Yes, sir!”

 The officer ran down the stairs leading to the lowest level of the house after she made her way cautiously through the kitchen; she shouldered her way into the basement and, after descending the last few steps, stopped near the base.

 “Get in here, quickly,” she yelled up to the others, rushing over to the middle of the cold, foul-smelling room. She reached up to cover her mouth in order to hold in a retch at the sight that greeted her upon arrival. Two other cops joined her shortly, both muttering a string of expletives.

 “Come on, let’s try to identify them…,” the first officer muttered, moving closer to the figures.

 A pair of corpses laid on the floor in a strange embrace, one so decayed that it looked like little more than a dark puddle of worm-filled goo with a few discernable chunks of flesh; the indicator that the slightly less decomposed one trapped it in a hug was only the humanoid shape of the liquid. The second cadaver was coated in a squirming layer of white parasites and brownish fluids which leaked out of multiple insect-ridden holes, but facial features and hair were not fully melted away just yet.

 “I’ll take a few samples into the lab for identification, you guys head back up and clear out the rest of the house to check for any other survivors… or bodies. It’s a big place, so get started now.”

 The remaining cops nodded and ran back up the stairs, leaving the other behind to collect the required hair samples.

 Officers were sent to the house relatively recently because they traced the DNA from a strand of dark hair found at the crime scene of Marie Stoller back to the residence of a young student named “Zachary Haine”. His parents had been missing for quite some time, a little over a month; they were sent to bring Zachary into custody as well as try to locate any remaining persons at his house. So far, these two bodies were the only ones found.

 “Two more corpses, master bedroom!”

 The faint call of urgency sounded from somewhere on the top floor, which caused the officer to hurriedly collect the hair strands in their designated bags then sprint out of the basement and up to the location of his fellow coworkers. 

 “I think… those may have been the kid’s parents. It’s hard to tell, but I have a hunch. Look, this was clearly their bedroom; there’s multiple pictures of them in here as well as their rings on that nightstand and some adult clothing in the closet. The people in the photographs look really similar to their son.”

 “Well, I think you’re right, but let’s grab some of their DNA samples as well to be sure of their identity. Already cleared out the rest of the house?” The cop asked the other as he bent down to pick up some remaining strands of hair with a new, unused tweezer.

 “Yes, sir,” another responded as he entered the room. “All cleared. We found some torture paraphernalia and tools covered in bodily fluids in one of the closets, and marked them off on a list so we can take them after the detective checks this scene out.”

 “Sounds good; I’ve collected all the evidence we need so far, so let’s head out of here now.”

                                                                         …   

 Detective Moore straightened up and wandered away from the master bedroom, jotting down a few observations on his leather notepad while muttering to himself.

 “Such a peculiar case,” he sighed, pocketing the miniature book and ballpoint pen.

 “Well, detective? Any idea what happened in this fucked up place?” The sergeant entered the chambers after knocking on the doorframe to capture the other man’s attention.

 “So you said that the lab results came in yesterday, and the four corpses were positively identified as Mr. and Mrs. Haine, their son Zachary, and Alistair Madden?”

 “That’s right.”

 “The tools that were found in the closet contained traces of Alistair’s DNA, along with the blood of his parents on a butcher knife in the cupboard?”

 “Mm-hm.”

 “From everything that I’ve observed so far, this is what I believe to have happened; Zachary must have murdered his parents when they suddenly ‘disappeared’; why he killed them, I’m not sure of. He then kidnapped and tortured Alistair to death, and I guess that he killed his girlfriend in order to hurt Alistair. He must have had some hatred for that boy, but I don’t know how that could cause such an act of cruelty… anyways, he most likely planned to kill his parents before Alistair because he knew that they would discover if he was torturing somebody in their basement.”

 Sergeant Coleson nodded thoughtfully as he pondered over the detective’s statements.

 “Hey, I have a weird thought and tell me if I’m wrong, but hear me out first. You asked how somebody could do something so cruel out of hatred, but what if it wasn’t because he hated Alistair Madden. I know this sounds super strange, but… what if he did it out of something like love?”

 Moore raised a brow. “Please elaborate.”

 “I heard from a private interview with a friend of Alistair’s after his disappearance that Alistair was sort of complaining to him about being ‘stalked’, or something. The friend kind of offhandedly said that Alistair thought that Zachary had a crush on him or something, which is why he was always following him. I mean, that’s why when he stopped going to school the friend mentioned Zachary’s name, he was worried that he did something to Alistair, which is why we were told to check for any bodies in the house when we were sent to arrest Zachary. Just think about it, Haine was probably deranged and did this out of an act of ‘love’,” the man said, creating quotation marks with his fingers.

 “It also explains why the corpse of Zachary was found embracing the remains of Alistair. He could just leave the basement whenever he wanted, he wasn’t trapped. He chose to stay there and die with Alistair.  It doesn’t make much sense, I know, but that’s what I’ve been thinking. Damn, that poor kid was seriously fucked up to do something like that.”

 Detective Moore exhaled heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose as he tried to will away his developing headache.

 “I hoped you would say that, sergeant. I was thinking the exact same thing, but I was rather hesitant to say it, I suppose. It’s just a very sensitive thing to say, to blame such a horrible and unforgivable murdering spree on love. There isn’t really a better deduction, though, that I can provide with absolute certainty. Adding on to that, I can safely say that the murder of Marie Stoller was an act of jealousy and possessiveness.”

 “Yeah, I agree.”

 “Poor kid. I wish we were able to get him help before any of this happened,” Moore said with despair in his quiet voice as he walked towards the front door with the sergeant; they were met with the cacophony of loud, screeching sirens and yelling, and neon yellow crime tape surrounding the property. Authoritative figures rushed left and right, ordering the others to perform different tasks all around the house and yard.

 “Damn this commotion! I can hardly think anymore!”

 “I don’t want to think anymore. I’ve done enough of that today; I just want to forget this whole ordeal already.”

 The tired detective nodded, adjusting his gray overcoat as the wind roared up, ruffling the wavy ivory locks that framed his smooth, rather colorless face.

 “I’m getting too old for this.”

 Moore scoffed and made his way down the crowded driveway. “You’re 32, sergeant.” He studied the taller man’s youthful features; his dark brown hair, glimmering hazel eyes, and caramel complexion.

 “And you’re 33, yet you complain about migraines every other day.”

 “I’m off the rest of the week, so bring me my daily coffee. I won’t be leaving the house at all.”

They arrived at the detective’s shiny Mercedes at the end of the gravel road and paused walking.

 “Sure, fine. See you when I get home, Evan. I’ll be back at around 2AM, so don’t wait for me.”

 “Damon, you’re strange,” sighed the man as he closed the door of his car behind him. “See you tomorrow, and don’t you dare wake me up.” 

 Sergeant Coleson grinned and waved after the speeding car as he returned to the chaotic yard. One of his coworkers approached him with a mischievous smirk.

 “Hey, sir, how’s your husb-”

 “Get your ass back to work, officer,” snapped the man.

What a strange day… man, I can’t wait to go to sleep.