A companionship in hell, please? :)

Lakshita
Lakshita
Jul 24, 2017 · 5 min read

(A/N : Short fictitious story)

Clutching the door knob, I tried to put an end to the battle my disturbed mind had with my throbbing heart. After a couple of minutes, letting out a deep breath, I entered home. As I closed the door behind, I was pulled into the abode of fear. I slowly climbed up the staircase as whispers of sorrow tickled my body. Breathing slowly but heavily, I stood in front of my room, trying to prevent my mind and heart from having a battle as bad as the 3rd world war could be. I willed myself and entered the Kingdom of Devastation.

As I shut the door behind, I was deafened by the silence that was prevailing inside the four walls I was trapped in.

The souls of the dead wailed, cried, sobbed and groaned, screaming to me for help. Their depressing, ear-piercing voices sent shivers down my spine. A tingling feeling kept appearing occasionally all over my body. I climbed onto my bed and lay down as uncomfortably as I could make myself feel, wrapping my thick blanket over myself. I allowed my eyelids to close and let myself fall into a restless sleep.

I sat bolt upright to a loud scream, like I did every other night. I wiped the small drops of perspiration that had appeared on my temples. I stared at the cupboard, waiting for it to open like it did every other night. As I was waiting, breathing heavily, a cold wind hit my back and making it soar with sadness.

I turned to look at her, standing tall beside my turned-off night lamp. “Hello, Sweetheart.” She smiled sadly. She was a woman who looked too young like a 30 year old for a million years old. Her bronze colored eyes shone and the dull light illuminated her pale-white skin. Her blood red lips stayed curved in that smile of sadness. A long Greek-styled black colored dress flowed down her elegant body. Her feet was hidden behind a curtain-wisps of grayish-black smoke that swirled around her feet, kissing the floor with a hiss as she walked.

I moved back and she sat beside me. She looked frailly beautiful and depressingly pretty. “Let’s go.” She said and I stood up on alert, shaking me head. She let out a weak laugh and was on her feet, walking towards me.

The voices in the room had never come to a stop. “Not funny.” I let out something that sounded like a squeak and this time she settled for a smile. “No, it isn’t. Now, come.” She said. “I am not coming!” I complained, moving back and she sighed, her smile still resting calmly on her red lips. “Why do you make it hard for me every night? We’ve done this too many times, Sweetheart.” She spoke, her voice sounding as soft and gentle as a broken piece of glass.

“Get ready.” She said and I looked at myself in the mirror. My black skater skirt and my white crop top looked alright. I braided my hair loosely and picked up my make-up pouch. She held my lips in the shape of a pout and smirked. “Pink lips. Brown eyes. Straight-Wavy black hair. Your olive skin tone turning paler by the minute. Just perfect.” She pecked my cheek, giving me goosebumps. “You don’t need make-up. You look absolutely beautiful to get hurt, baby. You are ready to go.” She smiled.

“Will I get hurt?” I asked and she nodded, opening her arms wide. I quickly embraced her, embracing a world of melancholy. “I love you.” she whispered and I sobbed into her chest as we disappeared into a thin wisp of smoke.

We stood under a street lamp in the corner of an isolated street. It was a cold, foggy night with the orange street lamps flickering on and off. I heard a familiar voice cursing at a distance and also the sound of tires screeching hard on the tar. A black and white Maserati emerged out of the blanket of thick fog. The driver yelled “Damn, the breaks!” and that’s when I realized that he was her next step in taking away the people who matter to me. “Please, stop!” I pleaded, shivering in the cold and also out of fear. She hugged me closer to her body and rubbed my arm, trying to warm me up, but in vain. We watched the car crash against a concrete wall and burn, lighting up the night.

She did actually love me. But to her, loving someone also meant efficiently hurting that someone and I prayed she would love me as less as possible. The soul of the now dead person reached his arm out to me.

I cried out of guilt and sorrow, knowing I couldn’t help him. Someone so special could no more be a part of my life and I felt dead inside as each one of the priorities in my life was sucked out of my heart with compulsion. But my body froze the moment I made out the words escaping his chapped lips, “Come with me.” My throat burned, my heart hammered against my ribs and tears of pain streamed down my cheeks as I finally realized what the souls truly wanted from me. My companionship in hell.

I woke up to rays of sunlight caressing my cheek warmly. Sitting up on my bed, I stretched my limbs lazily, breathing in the fresh morning air and listening to the birds chirp sweetly, sitting on my window sill. Slowly standing up and stifling a yawn, I entered the bathroom. I opened the cabinet door and took out a box. Swallowing a pill, I smirked at myself in the mirror, whispering, “Being a retarded and hallucinating a perfect life in a nightmare is fun.”

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