Your hands shook, the gravity of the situation evident in your little face as you reached forward. You needed to show your parents. They had to see the grotesque head that was lying on the sidewalk with you. The world was dark and red, the sky covered in dark clouds. It had turned that way when you walked outside. Strange creatures walked and waddled about, barely paying your little family any mind.
Your mother looked down at you as you held the head up, her face filling with confusion. "Honey, what are you doing," she asked. Your father knelt, taking your hands and reaching through the head. Your eyes widened and you felt yourself start to cry as you pulled away.
"Daddy, you made it yuckier," you hiccuped. Your father stared up at your mother and soon you were all in the car.
The doctors stared for a moment before pulling your family outside. You rubbed your head. It had been years since your first diagnosis. The hallucinations had only seemed to get worse as the years went by. The things that you saw were beginning to take notice of you and even approach you. Your phone rang, the single buzz of the vibration pulling your mind from the little creature in the corner of the room.
You stared at the messages from your boyfriend. He at least enjoyed your schizophrenia. Not in the way you would have liked at least. He'd pull you aside and ask you what you saw, describing it in detail as he'd draw it out. It only added to the terror, seeing someone else draw out what you saw. He didn't seem to care though, even when you protested it. He was even asking you now and you found yourself cringing.
Your fingers shook as you started typing, wanting to avoid the conflict that came with denying him. Clawed fingers encased yours and her stiffened, looking up. The face was distorted, glitching ass if it was a failed program. The eyes had radio dials for their pupils and the teeth were sharp and yellow, dripping a black ooze as it loomed over you. Antlers came from the red and black hair, framing the head in a jagged frame. The face was thin and greying, the smell of rotting flesh burning your nose.
You covered your mouth, holding your breath and dropping your phone as it leaned closer with a sinister grin. You stilled your body as well as you could, fear paralyzing you to the hospital bed. The face started to mouth something, static filling your ears. "Go-go away," you muttered. The grin just seemed to grow as the clawed hand made it's way to your face and held your cheeks. You grabbed at it, the feeling of claws digging themselves into you bringing your heart rate up.
It vanished as soon as your parents came back into the room, worry on their faces as you looked over to them. They pulled your hands from your face, blood in your nails. They looked at each other before nodding.
"Dear, I think it's best if we let you stay with professionals," your mother stared down at you, petting your cheek while avoiding the injuries.
You sat down, staring at the table as your boyfriend pulled his sketchbook out. You just watched, not bothering to say anything. "So you're saying they let you live with your psychologist," he asked.
"More like made me," you nodded. He stared and nodded, starting to doodle the fast-food joint you two sat in. You knew what was coming and you dreaded it.
"So," he tapped the paper, "You can have anyone you want over?"
"James," you muttered quietly. He laughed and shook his head, reaching over and petting your cheek.
"I'm only asking because I'd love to be with you," his eyelids closed a bit, a look coming to his eyes that made you feel uncomfortable. You stared at him before you caught a red-clad figure not far off. You froze, your eyes widening as the familiar head turned to you. "What is it?" He turned around, a frown coming to his face before he was hit with a realization. He turned back to you, tapping the sketchbook again. "Come on! I want to see too!"
You began to describe it, using the act to let you look over the whole figure. A red pinstripe suit with black accents, the same monstrous antlers atop its head, the sinister smile that froze you to your seat. It was moving closer, the slow clack of dress shoes on the linoleum drowning out any other words you should have been able to hear.
What a delectable meal.
You shot to your feet, the figure next to the table. People looked up from their meals and James gave a nervous laugh.
Oh, you can hear me, my dear? What a pleasant surprise! I thought this was just a one-way conversation!
You felt your heart pound, its face getting close to yours and making you take your seat again. You were stuck in the glowing red of its eyes, the smell of blood filling the air around you. How could no one else see this? Why couldn't anyone else see this beast? James stared as you started crying, your hands covering your head as you cowered in the booth.
"You all right," he asked quietly. "Babe? Hey, look at me." He reached over, taking your shaking hand in his. He stared for a minute before standing and pulling you after him. "I think I know how to help you." You followed him, keeping your head down and hiccuping, not caring that people were now watching the two of you as you walked out of the restaurant. It was moments of sitting in his car as he drove before James stopped and got out.
You watched him walk away, shaking hands and bumping shoulders with a few shady looking people. He motioned at you in the car before they nodded, handing him a bag.
You took a drag, sitting in James' arms as he watched you. He rubbed your back, staring at the picture he had drawn of the figure. He whistled, holding it up, "That has got to be the nastiest bugger yet, babe."
You pushed the book down, your heart racing and then slowing down as the drug took effect, "I'll be okay thanks for asking."
"Oh come on, not this again," he groaned. I shook my head, looking away as he pulled me closer to him. The world began to get blurry, the figures the only things growing defined. You were laid back, your eyes caught up in the dark corner of the abandoned room. James was over you, saying something as you felt a light sensation over your body. You jerked, more from the red figure stepping from the shadow with ease than the sudden pain you felt inside your abdomen.
It ventured closer, a hand reaching down and wiping a tear from your eye. A long tongue came out, licking the drop from its claw as you grabbed onto James.
I don't think you're enjoying yourself, dear.
How could she hear this thing? Couldn't James stop what he was doing and just listen?
Do you want him to hear? Want him to suffer the same things you are, little human?
You jerked, gripping at James' hair as it leaned down to you. Something burned in your side, causing you to let out a scream. You grabbed at it, finding nothing but your bare skin. Your eyes blinked back the tears, looking to James as he looked down at you. He was sweating with a smile on his face, completely unaware of what you were seeing but aware of what he had been doing.
What a scoundrel. The man didn't even ask.
You shook, covering your mouth as little symbols danced about him. You looked back to the figure, it stood up to its full height in the room. "Yes," you croaked out. The figure's head tilted and the grin grew impossibly wide.
What will you give me in return, little human?
You shook, hugging yourself tightly.
I'll give you all the means you need to survive, my dear. I just need to know what you'll give me back.
You hiccuped, covering your face as James kissed your bare stomach. "Any- anything," you hiccuped. The red in the room seemed to give off a dim green glow, the figure's hand holding itself out to you.
Then it's a deal, little woman.
You reached over, taking it with a shaky hand. James watched, confusion on his face before the clawed hand became visible. It soon changed to a disturbed fear as the figure snapped it's head to him.
"Oh, what a lovely feeling! This is a special broadcast," the figure sang out. You lurched back as James screamed, hugging your knees close to your chest as the figure began to tear the man apart. It stopped for only a moment, James' unable to make noise as he bled out on the other side of the trashy couch. It's hand shot into his chest, ripping out his heart. "Your end of the deal," it purred. You stared at the heart, feeling nausea take over.
Eat it.
You hiccuped and stared at the figure, the heart still beating in its hand.
You said anything, little human. This is what I want from you.
You hesitantly took it, shaking as it continued to beat in your hands. A clawed hand slowly pushed yours to your mouth with the heart, forcing it past your lips and in your mouth. The first bite had you gagging, the figure holding it to your mouth still with devilish delight. The second bite instigated a ravenous hunger that the figure laughed at. You didn't need any more coaxing.