Whispers in the Dark

Chapter 20: Within Ourselves

Whispers in the Dark

Chapter 20: Within Ourselves

I immediately stiffen, my hand freezing mid-way to the door handle. It's... open?

A sudden sprout of a shiver crawls down my spine, vibrating all the way to the tips of my toes. It's not a good shiver, where one might be excited or relaxed - no, it's anything but that. I glance down at my hand, noticing that I'm visibly shaking - I wouldn't of noticed it if I didn't look down to see it. In the deepest part of my stomach, it feels as if it's tightening into a small little ball, making me almost wince at the numbing pain. What is this?

Something doesn't feel right. Something isn't right.

This feeling, it's not new, but I haven't felt it in a long time. I remember feeling this sudden drop in my senses when Len was around, the old Len, the Len that I didn't even know as Len at the time. His demented grin, his black clothes covering every inch of his skin except his mocking smile, his disgusting words - the Len I grew up knowing. He's still there of course, that part of him never able to completely leave, but he definitely isn't anything like he was before.

I've felt something similar to this, whenever I was dreaming, but at the same time it was nothing like what I'm feeling now. I was more confused in the hallways, in the classroom, on the dirt road. Confusion is what helped me run away from it, to run away from the real fear beginning to crawl towards me, ever so slowly but determined...

No. It was when I knew Len was there. I felt this awakening fear begin to rip and scratch vigorously at me when I felt him near. There was no confusion - I knew. There wasn't anything to be confused about, I had grown to know him and the way he thinks. To be confused about his motives would be a waste of time. I would start sweating, forget to breathe, bite my lip until it bled, scratch at my arms - anything to try and distract myself from something that wasn't even real, that Len wouldn't, at the least, kill me. He was the devil to me as the years went by. Eventually it started declining, but in those years he was my absolute, terrifying, personal hell. He never touched me, but perhaps that was the worst part of it all. I haven't felt this in a long time. I don't want to feel it again.

Finally, I force myself to wrap my pale fingers around the cold metal of the door knob, never blinking as I slowly push it open. I don't understand why I have such a bad feeling about this - for all I know, Yuma actually did make it back before I did and went into my room, after all he does have a key. It's the only reason I can come up with, because I know I closed it when we left. I can't understand why I'm reacting so badly to such a little situation like this, so instead I swallow the bile rising in my throat completely as I push the door wide enough so I can see inside my room.

I don't notice the figure at first, its back to me at the other end of the room, by the locked window. It's not until a sudden flash of weak lightning blooms throughout the room with a faint white, the thunder following almost inaudible, that I notice there are not only one but two figures. Outside the window sill, on the other side of the glass in the rain, is a black raven staring back at the first figure. I immediately recognize it as the bird I see only once in a while, one of my rare hallucinations. The last time I saw her was when I was with Gumi, us talking about how weird it is that she would immediately bolt at the mention of Len's name. How strange, to see her now.

The first figure, the one standing by the window and seems oblivious to the bird, doesn't move - doesn't seem to notice me coming in. A quick, sudden flow of relief fills me, but it's immediately drained once a sharp, clear voice abruptly says, "You're not even going to say anything? That's rather rude, since I do want to speak with you." I still, staring straight the person's back. He turns rather slowly around and faces me, his eyes finally locking with mine. Crimson meet with teal, and I almost choke from the intimidating glare of red that sinks so deep into me that I want to look away almost immediately. If yellow was such an odd and poisonous eye color, then red is almost like a murder. I never payed much mind to his eyes before, mostly because I've never seen them this close - though really, he isn't even that close to me. He has always been so distant so I never had a chance to really look, but his silver hair is undeniably recognizable.