Playing With Shadows

Death of a Light

I didn't realize it until it was too late. He had always been there. He approached me from the shadows. I felt a pull to follow no matter what the cost; no matter the path. Life, no, existence would be so much easier if I followed him.

At the time, life was dim and cold. Too long I had been fighting, standing alone, my strength wavered. That's when he appeared reaching his hand out. "An ally," I whispered inaudibly.

"Come. You don't have to be the light for everyone to follow. All you need is a little break. Just sleep for a while you'll feel better when you wake," he said as he pulled me close.

For a moment, I closed my eyes and slept in his arms. It was only a moment. One small moment of weakness and he had me trapped. There would be no escape for me. The claws he hid from me were now closed around my throat.

My eyes opened to find darkness. Shock raced through me. He had promised me everything would be fine while I rested. I was supposed to heal and restore my strength. But instead, I found myself weaker and completely lost in the darkness around me. I had been betrayed.

I tried to move, but my limbs felt sluggish. Gasping in fright at how weak I had become, my throat burned. I realized I had been quietly crying in the dark for some time. Why did nobody notice? How could I be so completely ignored and invisible?

Cold fingers brushed against my cheek. "Tears have never looked so beautifully tragic. I've been watching you for some time now. I knew one day you would be mine. There is no escape." That voice that had comforted me a moment ago froze the blood in my veins now.

My eyes, finally adjusted to the darkness, saw the smallest of light illuminate his face. I had missed the coldness in his eyes. At that moment, I knew I was not his first victim, nor would I be his last. A smile of understanding spread across his face. His eyes shone with darkness. His victims had no number. Too many had suffered in silence because of him. He had lost count of them long ago. I was one more light to crush and add to his unnatural and innumerable collection.

Claws dug into my throat. I watched as he raised a solitary finger. He slowly brushed it across my lips then along my cheek and down my jaw to rest under my chin. That's when the tears dried up. I had very little hope of salvation. I was going to dissipate into the smothering darkness.

He closed his eyes and smiled. An expression of real pleasure flashed briefly. "It's been so long since I've felt warmth like yours," he sighed. "Give me more. Give me all you have." The pleasure written on his face gave way to a greedy smile as he pressed his lips to mine. Terror forced a scream to rip from my lips. He only laughed and demanded more.

I had lost the strength to stand. The cold floor had reminded me I was still alive and I could still feel. If anything it was saving me. He took away the floor with the excuse that as his guest he could never let me sleep on the floor. I had been doing just that for the past few months. What difference was it going to make now?

The bed he gave me felt like nothing. It wasn't comfortable nor uncomfortable. It simply existed to be slept on. The coldness of the floor slowly seeped out of my bones. Soon it wasn't just the bed that simply existed. My whole existence felt like nothing. He even started to notice. The time between visits became erratic and filled with bodiless words.

"Why are you still here?"

"You are nothing. You know that right?"

"Such a nuisance."

As he lay next to me, he would whisper, "There is no reason or purpose in your existence anymore. You might as well give up completely. Just hand everything over to me, you belong to me anyways. You'll just be giving me what is mine anyways. No point in resisting."

The day I died is the day I answered saying, "Ok. I have no reason to fight anymore. All my hope and warmth, all my light was already taken."

His finger shook in excitement as it reached for my forehead. The second time I saw pleasure on his face was the second before I closed my eyes. His finger wasn't cold anymore.