Shot in the Dark

Nothing is what it seems.

We live in a world of assumption.

No one can read each others' minds. It's not possible.

We can only guess on what is happening around us.

Or at least, that is what I believed in.

It has helped me survive most of my life, so I thought.

Turns out, believing in such a thing is a hazardous path.

Darkness all around me.

My number one fear, above all the others.

Why.

Why does it have to be dark.

Why do I have to be alone.

WHY?!

I want to run.

I want to run far away from here.

But everywhere I go, I’m just consumed by more darkness.

I hate it. All of it.

I had already ran a line for a few minutes.

I got myself more lost than I already am. Or maybe less. Who knows?

Something drops in front of me with a small clitter-clatter.

I freeze in place.

What was that?

I slowly stoop down to pick it up, keeping wary of my surroundings.

It's a knife.

There’s blood on it.

My heart skips a beat.

Is there someone else - or worse yet, someTHING - here with me?

I don't hear anything except my own breath.

...haaa...haa...haaaa...

My first thought is to run away.

But I have lost all sense of direction. I already said that.

Nevermind, my legs take me somewhere anyways.

I see a bright light.

I close my eyes and hope everything is a dream.

When I open back up, I still find darkness.

I'm losing control of myself already.

I look down and realize...

I'm still gripping onto the knife.

I… I don't want this.

I want to let it go.

Let go!

LET GO!

LET THE DAMN KNIFE GO!!

My body won’t listen to me.

This is bad. Really bad.

I’m acting on impulse.

Acting on impulse ALWAYS leads to rash decisions. And rash decisions never end good.

Ever since my encounter with the clattering knife, I have been on edge.

I keep imagining sounds every so often.

Then I flail my knife in the darkness.

“My” knife.

That’s a phrase I’d never imagine I’d say. Or think.

It was just picked off the ground. Nothing much to it.

But the blood.

The blood is a different story.

I have no clue on who this blood belongs to.

Where there's blood, there's death.

Blood is here.

And here be death.

Right here, in my hands. In my body, my soul.

I fear for my life.

I've been betrayed by my eyes enough times.

There really must be monsters at work.

I will not be merciful to them.

There is a table here.

I wandered right into it earlier.

I shove it away.

It sounds as if it hit a wall.

I don't care.

It seems to have attracted something.

I can hear the scratching of its feet along the floor.

It's coming towards me.

I grip the knife tightly.

Then it bumps into the wall right next to me.

I guess monsters can't see well in the dark, either.

It stomps its large foot in frustration.

The crashing remains in my ears.

It's now or never.

I pivot on one foot.

Holding my knife above my head, I prepare to strike.

Something touches my foot.

Without even thinking, I slice down through the monster, its blood staining my white shirt.

It gives a croak before its breathing stops.

I shed a tear.

This is all new to me.

I-I don't know what to do...

That... That's it, right?

I'm... I'm safe now.

No, I'm not.

A light falls into the room.

I scuttle behind the overturned table.

The light continues to scan the room, as its source enters.

Another one.

Once again, I grip my knife.

I'm ready this time.

I leap out if hiding and drive my knife into the back of the beast.

It gives a slight gasp before dropping the light.

I pull my knife back out and it crumples to the floor.

I am stained once more.

I am in the direction of the light.

It will reveal the faces of these monsters.

But... It's on a bloody hand.

A hand.

I pick up the flashlight for a better look.

It shines at the body on the wall, then at my feet.

Then both flashlight and knife fall from my hands.

Their clattering sound so distant now.

There.

Are.

No.

Monsters.

These were boys, the same age as I.

I am a monster.

I am THE monster.

I AM THE DAMN MONSTER I FEARED.

I spend my next hours on my knees, weeping.

Then there's that thought.

There are many ways to end suffering - you only need to choose one.

The last thing I feel is my knife in my hands once more.