Hello. Who Are You?

Dear Cloe, with love & misery

There, lying on the ground, a slight trail of crimson surrounding it, is my body. I'm not standing, and yet I'm looking around my room, two meters in the air. It's like my mind has been ripped away from my physical form, the link somehow lacerated.

Fear screeches into my ears, shock torturing my mind as I watch my own body, which was seconds before lying unconscious on the scratched floor, rising, turning its head, smiling. What in all of hell is before me, how can this be happening? Getting to its feet, my body seems not to notice the ruby, spraying blood that is leaking from a shallow wound on its head. Panic, once again, begins to cry out, confusion making way. Crap, quickly, get bandages or something. God that's horrific, get first aid, help, anything. Damnit I'm bleeding!

Oh crap, if my body somehow bleeds to death, will I be trapped in this nightmarish state for eternity, always watching, observing, never living? Looking closer, I notice slight twitching, limbs & eyes making quick, jagged movements, though the smile never falters. It begins to walk out of my room, an eerie joy to its movements.

"Hello? Myra, are you home? Myra!" Cloe's voice rings through the small house, reaching my physical ears, as its smile grows larger. No reply comes forth from its mouth though, instead, it quickly walks to the back door. An even greater fear imprisons me, not for myself but lovely Cloe, for who knows what in all burning hell this nightmare will do, and then I realize. Ha! The back door key has been missing for over a year. But hope soon died; without stopping for a second, it swiftly pulls a loose board, almost greedily snatches the key, as well as a sharp balisong'

As my sight falls upon the stained blade, my mind is rushed with a mass of petrifying memories. Nightmares of my childhood, locked away by years trauma, brought back to haunt me by a killer's blade. Oh God. Blood. So much repulsive, disgusting, wretched blood. Blank eyes. No tears left to cry. Knife. Run, just run. The years of bullying, the rage, the urge. The cruelty I endured & the cruelty I spread. My fractured brain split, most of it functioning as a normal thirteen-year-old, but one slither of my mind convulsing with an ineffable need to not just kill but mutilate. The inhumane daemon that I became, itching to murder any human I saw. Though most of me were able to overcome the corruption. Until it became too much.

While walking my beautiful dog, and flipping my balisong, the screeching of tires fills my ears, my eyes assaulted with the sight of my pet being crushed, mutilated by a car. Dying... slowly. All else no longer existed as I stared, frozen, numb, until the driver stumbled out of his broken car, cried & sorrowed in front of me. Then the numbness was gone. And there was the only wrath, for all the disgusting human race.

My vision blurred as my blade whipped across his flesh and only returned when ruby blood had engulfed me, unrecognizable meat & gore spread around me. And I was only thirteen. The police assumed he has ripped apart in the crash, I never told anyone.

But I couldn't handle it. The psychopath inside of my soul was just beginning, but the rest of me was utterly horrified. That night I didn't sleep, only rocked back & forth, unblinking. Broken. Eventually, I passed out, thus my condition arose, created by trauma. When I woke I had no memory of the incident and I never remembered, until the sight of that knife awoke my mind, resurrected the truth. What am I? A killer, a psycho? Oh god.

"Come on, Myra! I can see your car, I know your home. Oh, crap! What if she's lost consciousness? Myra, MYRA!" yelled Cloe, panic edging her voice. Quickly making its way towards her, a spring in its step, breathing shallow & fast.

Frantically bringing her fist down upon the door, her head turns as the sound of footsteps reached her ears. "OMG, Myra! That is not funny in any way! How could you do that to me" scolded my angel, though she was obviously struggling to keep a straight face? Fear stabs me like a knife as, in the time it takes Cloe to blink, it rushes forward, stopping only inches from her, still slaughtering my face with that wretched grin. "Arrh! Oh goddamnit, Myra" shock turns to lust as Cloe leans in to kiss, thinking I am doing the same. But it's not me.