She had become my saviour. No thought would cross my mind that she was not inevitably apart of.
This finally allowed me to shut off my past, and in turn preventing the darkness from creeping any higher. It should be evident by this point of the story that everyone has an inner darkness, that version of oneself that you would do anything to hide from the outside world.
Some people let it consume them and devour their world and the people within proximity, these people are unable to find that one thing that keeps them grounded, to which ultimately controls the dark urges.
Fortunately, for both my sake and everyone else's, I was able to chain up my shadow self and keep him buried within the basement.
But that is the issue with chains, eventually, if not maintained, they begin to rust and waste away; then there is nothing stopping it from rising.
In my case paranoia was the obvious first of many rain droplets that would cause the inevitable rust. All caused by a stupid text that I stumbled upon.
I knew that I was overreacting, but I could not help it. My emotions very quickly began to run away with the notion.
As soon as the infection of distrust sets in on a relationship, there was no cure. It then became a matter of preparation for the inexorable and making sure all parties involved were comfortable until the end.
However, this could have all been avoided if honesty were used. I asked Sarah constantly about the text from this unknown parasite 'Steven', but to me dismay she denied it had ever existed. But I saw it. She must have deleted it. Right?
As the chains began to fall apart so did I. the anger and pain were uncontrollable – at a constant climax, bubbling just beneath the surface.
The rage outburst was accompanied by flashes from my past, the memories that I had tried so hard to forget, now playing whack-a-mole, like a sick minded slideshow on repeat.
The pain that they left behind was excruciating, second to none. A scab being repeatedly ripped open is the closest comparison.
I had tried and done everything to become a different, better person. Perhaps it would be better, less painful in fact, if I just accepted that this was who I am and allowed the shadow to consume me.
The pain now becoming too much to tolerate, I sat down to regain composure and a sense of I. within seconds the front door creaked open. As a figure emerged from the shadows, it became quickly apparent that it was Sarah, returning from work.
Had something happened? As the light from the living room illuminated her, I spotted her bruised, battered, and blackened face.
"H-HOW?!" I asked as my hands gently brushed against her face.
"It doesn't matter now". Sarah replied abruptly.
I had a very guttural reaction, it could only be one of two things: she had either been mugged on her way from work, or the mystery user 'Steven' had abused her beautiful face.
I stared into her terrified eyes, in search for comfort and protection.
How could I allow this to happen? As I sat back moping for days, I allowed this monster to abuse her.
She needed to be avenged, for the after protection to now take place. The only option left was for 'Steven' to be aborted.
As I put on my coat, ready to leave the house in search for 'Steven' I found myself stepping into the darkness. But HOW? It was only 3:30pm a few moments ago. Had I fallen asleep?
I raced hopelessly, eventually making it to the bar where Sarah worked. I enquired about this mystery 'Steven' to every employee of the bar.
It took no time at all until a member of staff eventually caved in and confessed to the whereabouts of 'Steven' who had just finished his shift for the evening.
Steven approached me, grinning.
Unable to contain the anger I already had, this notion alone was teetering me over the edge of an abyss filled with hatred and rage. How dare this animalistic abuser smile at my, or even look in my general direction after what he had done.
As I grabbed the collar of his white, sweat soaked work shirt, I could feel the rage pulsating with every heartbeat, a serum of adrenaline had been injected into my very veins. A misty cloud of red began to drape over my eyes. This was no longer David in control.
The anger had overtaken and now all he saw was the darkness surrounding him – leaving me in the driver's seat. He saw an obstacle that needed removing and the rage in addition to the fixation gave me a clear target.
Of course, I will do this for you David, after all we are one.
I dragged Steven from the comfort of the illuminating light of the bar, and into the shadows where we monster's play.
As the torrential rain cascaded down, the neon lights from the street allowed for a breakthrough the blanket of rain. The lights gave a clear message of a safe haven, for those in desperate need of refuge, but neither I NOR David needed this, as we were now at home.
My fingers now tickling with the comforting sensation of pleasure and anger, I proceeded to coil my hand into a fist, each of my nerves began to spark with the pure adrenaline and hatred.
If this was not the man that destroyed my future, then I would surely still find pleasure in the act I was about to commit.
The first punch that collided with his face, gave vibrations throughout my body. The cracking of his jaw electrifying the next punch to proceed it. Each hate filled blow I delivered to Steven's face was 100% critical without the repercussion of pain.
This man was either very strong willed, or truly had no idea about Sarah's indiscretions, either way I did not care and either way enjoyed every moment of it.
Blood began to paint the wet gravel of the car park. Gallons must have accumulated into separate pools, teeth and clots of blood made up the rest of my decorative piece that I had now created.
David will be so pleased with my artistic vision, and if not, at least he will appreciate the ridding of a parasite from his life. Water rushed down my face, burring my vision for seconds at a time.
My hair now draped into clumps of strands directly from my scalp. My knuckles battered and hands torn apart, but this did not and never did bother me.
As I gazed upon the final masterpiece that I had created without an ounce of remorse, I could only feel the fulfilment of pleasure. Steven's sprawled out body, lay there lifeless, his face barely recognisable as his jaw sat 4 inches apart from his cheeks.
His left eye now firmly out of its socket, hanging by a thread. His skull caved in on itself as everything that was contained within this once precious shell had now been violently vomited from its case.
Blood drenched the gravel, completely smothering it, not only contained to the nearby circumference of where steven lay but now splashed around several cars and windows.
My face and clothes were now a washed out red, with the mixture of steven's crimson blood and the translucent rain colliding onto the canvas of my body.
Perhaps I should frame these clothes for David. As the body twitched, uncontrollably, I could feel David pulling back to the surface. In turn, I chose to give him back control of the driver's seat, just for now. Just in time to witness Steven's mangled, crushed body sprawled across the gravel – alone.
"I swear to God if I find out you hurt her Steven, I will." And that is when I saw him, his body beginning to settle in the crushed state it was.
"Wait, no. WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK. Did I - Did I do this to him?"
I could not even begin to comprehend how. I was only just talking to him. I remember grabbing him, and then, as if the following second he was, well like this.
Quickly, collecting myself, I soon realised I had two options if I were guilty of this.
Option one: the body needed to be disposed of, and urgently.
The second: leave him there to be found and pray that there is no evidence that would lead this back to me.
Well the second option is not only dumb but clearly out of the fucking question. I see no murder weapon.
I looked down at my hands realising the crushed bones of my knuckles, the bloodstained skin that covered them and the drenched in his, now lightly washed out red, blood.
Sweat dipped down my forehead as I squared up my options and starred at them deeply and calculatedly.
Thankfully, it was dark enough to move the body, and the streets rang silently. Only my footsteps, and the flickering of streetlamps could be heard.
Dragging Steven's lifeless corpse toward my car and opening the boot, I was being constantly put-on edge by even the slightest whisper irradiating from the wind. Hopefully, the blood would be washed away by the torrential downpour of rain that I was experiencing.
Hedging my bets, I know, but in times of such drastic design there is much else left to be done.
The clashing of the boot seemingly gave me a boost of adrenaline, and soon after the nerves settled.
It was now a dash to the finish line. Sooner rather than later id be back in the arms of my beloved and this could all be over.
A distant memory that only I would have the burden to bear. If I had done this, at least I could find some solace in the fact I had done this all for her, even if I cannot remember doing it at all. It was now left up to me to ensure I brought no un-needed attention upon myself.
To keep the car driving at a steady pace. I have seen cop shows and therefore know that the way people are caught is through the sheer stupidity of their own actions, rather than the crime itself.
As long as I kept myself average, inconspicuous, and most importantly unnerving then this would be over.
Driving for what effortlessly seemed like an eternity, appeared to be slowed down to an even lengthier perpetuity, this in itself was a life-long sentence that was utterly unneeded, and may I add unwarranted.
As we approached my garage, I formulated my plan of disposing the now rolled around, crushed up human that lay tumbling in the boot of my car.
Opening the boot, it became apparent to why people use rugs when resolving an incident much like the one I found myself deep within.
Blood now battled up the fabric that encompassed the boot, staining it. His body now twisted and contorted, in what I could only analogise as a pretzel devouring another.
His legs bent out of shape, curling in on themselves, to the similarity of the Ouroboros. Arms bruised and battered from being launched from one side to the adjacent.
His jaw now almost fully disconnected, still endlessly swaying from side to side despite the stopping of the car.
Picking up, this now ever more so distorted figurine, and placing him upon my shoulder, I made strides to enter the garage swiftly and as inaudibly as was perceivable.
Stolen novel; please report.
I was now left with many options laying before me of how to get rid of this huge anchor, wrapped and coiled around my ankle.
The most foul but safest option (that would leave as little evidence possible) that I had available, would be to cut him into bits, remove his teeth and fingers; burn the rest.
So, I begun the work. I unfolded him from the perch of my shoulder to which he sat; and dropped his weighted corpse firmly onto the cold steel table that lay to the corner of my garage.
Usually, people would care about the cold steel touching the warm, full of life flesh, but in all honesty, I doubt Steven really cared all that much.
Frozen to the touch, his skin glued to the just as ice cold bench. Moving him would have surely resulted in the ripping apart of his skin, to which I definitely did not want. The less DNA evidence left behind the better.
Grasping the hacksaw, my trembling nerves vibrated through the handle of the blade, violently shaking it within the palm of my hand.
My sweat a lubricant substitute for the hacksaw. Wrapping my left hand around the ankle of the man, I was left stranded within my own thoughts, contemplating on how tonight's events could have even ensued.
Nevertheless, this was no time to become sentimental, if I ever wanted a true future with Sarah, I needed to bottle up all emotions and get to the ridding of this man.
The points of the blade broke his skin, as I readied myself for what I had to now do. I violently ripped my arm back and forth, with every movement, carving his flesh ever deeper until the inevitable grinding of metal and bone screamed through the locked garage.
Dark cardinal, chestnut blood sprayed from the wound, drenching myself and the surrounding area, marking us with its territorial scent and elixir.
After the first leg was successfully removed, I proceeded to bag it and move toward the next limb. Taking hours to get through the four limbs alone was tough, but the next step as even more challenging.
Holding Steven's grotesque hanging jaw sturdy, I clamped plyers onto his furthest left molar and hauled heavily backwards. The tooth was followed with a stream of blood and two thick strings that had originally held the tooth rigid in his mouth.
Removing all the teeth became a tedious and seemingly never-ending task, mercifully it ended, nevertheless.
Now with Steven's teeth jingling within a plastic bag; his four limbs, torso and ill-shapen skull held together in a garbage-sack sized goodie bag, it was ultimately time to burn the remains.
I found the perfect spot too, nice plus secluded only surrounded by the witnesses of trees and woodland-life.
The drenching of his body parts in gasoline, left a very distinctive aroma that very quickly crawled up my nostril's passageway and refused to leave, at least that was until the even more revolting stench of burning corpse replaced it.
His skin morphed from a pale bloodless white, to a blackened burnt crisp within seconds. His hair singed and receded to the scalp as the corneas of his eyes shrivelled. The clothing he was wearing melting into the now blackened skin, the two things becoming one. Blackened dirty grey smog threw itself from his corpse, propelling 10-20 feet above the body.
After the burial of the ashy remains, far away from where the incident took place, I circled back home to the comforting, loving arms of Sarah. I needed more than ever for her sweet embrace to allow me to forget everything from the past 4-6 hours.
The car was now cleaned, and any trace of Steven had vanished along with him. Pulling into the driveway I soon found myself falling back into her arms, tired and confused over everything that had taken place.
As we spoke for a little, she soon seemed to change. Her passionate caring voice changed pitch and tempo, to a more aggressive pacey tone.
"David, I needed to tell you something earlier, but you rushed away before I could get the chance."
Well, whatever it was she needed to tell me; it could not contend with the horrendous deeds I had to part-take in this evening.
"Yeah Hun, sure. What's up?" I said sounding pretty calm and collected.
"The bruises. The marks around my face and neck. They were from-."
"It's okay Hun. I know Steven had hurt you but trust me, I spoke to him and asked him to move away. You have nothing to worry about anymore. Trust me." I interrupted her saying.
"No. No David. It wasn't Steven. Can you honestly not remember?" she exclaimed clearly surprised and confused.
"What?! What do you mean it wasn't Steven?" as aggression and confusion built within me, I began to feel overwhelmingly sick.
"David. You did this to me. How can you not remember beating me?"
I sat there stunned. Complexed. Pure rage. Pure, untampered rage. The only way I could possibly convey how I was feeling.
Not toward anyone but myself, for no other reason than allowing myself to become this twisted mess of the person I once was.
Where my morals had become so shaded and my mental state so unstable; no decision was my own. I could now begin to feel the two occupants taking refuge within my head, me, and this other entity: the darker self.
Instantly I could feel the battle for control taking place. The once palace of my mind now contaminated with the stench of conflict and turmoil.
Two sides of the same coin in a constant flip; each side winning over a blissful moment of control. Losing control would be insufferable to say the least, not knowing what the other would do whilst in control.
Or is that exactly what happened with Steven? Did this other me take over?
Not knowing had become the most agonising part.
So, was he in control when I had hurt Sarah, or was that all me?
Was I than one that beat her and marked her?
I killed an innocent man for the abuse of my love. It was not Steven at all. It was my murderous hands that beat her.
The lines blurring, as I could feel us merging into one. One complete monster without morals or regret.
Grabbing the closest bottle of alcohol, I brushed passed Sarah, leaving her clueless and speechless – stranded in the sitting room – alone. I raced to the, newly cleaned of evidence, car and pushed myself into the driver's seat. Turning on the ignition, the sudden burst of vibrations and power unsettled me even more so.
However, the alcohol soon set in, and completed its task of calming my nerves and blocking out all of the noise that emptied itself into my head.
Reversing from the space that had originally contained my car, I took another drink. The burning sensation now masked, as I reached the halfway point of the bottle.
Incrementally, I increased the speed of the car in correlation to the amount of alcohol I was consuming. My vision now just an endless streaming blur.
Memories rushing back, clouding any vision I did have.
As they rushed to the front of my vision I lay back on the couch. I was now only 7-years old. My father no longer in the picture. My mother, the sole 'carer' and 'guardian' for both me and my brother.
No one knew at the time what a huge mistake those titles in front of her name would mean for us, until it was too late.
More men and women began to gather in the house, an endless pack of them flooding through the doors. Alcohol overflowing, sticking to the floorboards and creating a cloud of odour.
Sexual ritualistic acts being performed at every square inch of the residence, with no concern or moral understanding of the impact this would have on my brother and me.
A collection of men and women using our home as a club/brothel for their own amusement.
I attempted to stay out of the way, concealing my brother from the monsters that now lurked and surrounded us.
However, my efforts were futile as I was swiftly spotted. Completely intoxicated, one of the many men stumbled over to us. In one hand a can of beer lay loosely gripped by his chubby, clammy hands, in the other a cigarette – half burnt to the bud. As he dropped the can, almost instantaneously, he reached out the same hand and aimed for my 2-year-old brother.
Manoeuvring myself, I stretched out my body, extending the 7-year-old body I had across the face of my brother.
Sheltering him from this grotesque human, I left myself open for the attack. As his oily skinned hand coiled around my arm and gripped tight, I was pulled closer to him.
Knees scraping the sticky wooden surface, splinters shot up into my legs piercing the skin. The amber horizon covered my eyesight, as the barrel of the cigarette came hurtling toward me. The scorching of my skin as the ash flaked away in the air, left smiles in the eyes of the man.
My skin arched in on itself, leaving a noticeable impact crater. My eyes clenched back the tears from escaping their prison.
After a several dozen burns were etched into my skin, he had clearly been pleasurably fulfilled and now sought after a new release. That was when his eyes lined up my brother. A 2-year-old would seem favourable to an animal like this.
His eyes glowed with delight at the sight of my vulnerable brother, like a lion spotting a calf left abandoned by its parents.
Within an instant I snapped and picked up the closest object, proceeding to smash the man repeatedly over the head. Yet my attempts were in vein.
The grown, grotesque individual threw me around the room, all the while my drugged up drunken excuse for a mother lay upstairs with her legs spread wide open pleasuring the same men that would abuse us.
Was their pleasure more important than her own children's safety?
Was their money or attention of more worth that our lives?
I continued driving whilst paralysed as a result of the onslaught of repressed memories. Drink after drink; I attempted to block these feelings and recollections, but every attempt was proven ineffective.
The car veered off to the left, as I was left motionless and unreactive. Within moments the car collided with a worker's site sign. The sign being elevated from the road and smashing the windshield. I still lay- unresponsive.
Almost instantaneously to this, the car began to rise and tilt horizontally as if in slow motion. Inside the car, glass from the windshield and the, almost empty, whiskey bottle rolled around alongside me.
Glass piercing my skin, a constant attack gashed my face, leaving deep cuts as a result.
By the time the car had stopped its almost endless mid-air summersault consisting of numerous roles, it crashed to the surface below. The metal casing of the vehicle crumbled around the seats.
The car stood still upside down. I was suspended only by my seatbelt. Street signs and billboards lit up the crash site, and along with it a clear line of sight, yet a hazy one.
Undoing my tightly gripping seatbelt that grasped the core of my neck, I crashed into the now crumpled roof of the car – colliding with a bed of glass. Digging my nails into the ground ahead of me, clawing onto anything that would take my weight, I pulled my body and the torn clothes that covered it across the floor.
Finally emerging from the wreckage that now stood behind me, I was blinded by the harrowing lights ahead.
As I fell to my knees and looked into the sky, searching for answers I crumbled. Questioning myself and the things I had done as well as the people I had hurt, I soon found myself cocooned in a self-pity shell.
Hours must have passed until I realised what it was, I had to do. I dragged myself from the floor, putting all my weight into the now destroyed leather shoes that covered my feet and found myself face to face with the devil within.
I may not have found my answers within the stars, but the devil certainly answered my prayers.
"Well Hello David. It's about time that we met, don't you think?" The devil spoke with such eloquence.
"wh- who the hell are you?" exclaiming with what little air I had left in my lungs.
"What? You're telling me you don't recognise your own face? It has been a long time since you've truly seen yourself, I guess." He replied as quickly as I asked.
"No! I'm sorry but you are not me. You're your own parasite, a manifestation created by my own twisted mind to torment me." Angrily screeching back at him.
"I am what I must be. I am who I am, and you are who you are. However, in this moment, we are two souls trapped within one vessel."
"And your point is what exactly?" I replied, curious to the answer he would give.
"Two souls cannot inhabit the same body; the vessel will burn up and go mad. That is why I will take this as my own."
Standing face to face with the inner, darker me, I found myself surrounded by clouds of pure darkness both of us secluded within my mind. This was not a battle that could any longer be won through psychotherapy medication. This was the ultimate battle for complete control. The most important battle I would ever undergo, and I have to win it.
Starring at the mirror reflection of myself that stood before me, I soon realised the difference between us, one subtle difference: his eyes. Our eyes were different shades of brown.
A subtle difference, but a distinguishing factor to anyone that knew me. Although I was beginning to come to terms with having a parasite burrowed and manifesting within my brain for years, I am still unwilling to accept that we are the same.
However, all demons and angels that lie beneath the surface are creations from one's own mind.
Majestically, created creatures, made only to amplify emotions or actions that would otherwise lie subconsciously buried within the mind of 'ordinary/normal' people.
Those dark urges manifested as a survival technique that never just never left the continuous evolutionary battle of nature vs. nurture.
Turning my body clockwise toward the parasite, I glared into the doppelgangers' eyes with a mixture of fear and rage.
Despite this, the parasite returned with a generous, cunning grin as he was clearly not as easily intimidated.
The battleground of my mind was a desolate one to say the least; torn up battlements and struck down defences truly illustrated my fragile, mutilated state of mind from years of mental and physical torture.
Nevertheless, the state of this stage, it was becoming evident that it would play host to one final battle - in turn, determining the victor, the one that would gain full control over my body.
As I took a closer step toward him, a domino effect began to take shape, both simultaneously forming our hands into fists, our stomachs tensing and faces beginning to squint in anger.
Moving with viscous intent, my first thrown punch, was blocked with intense purpose.
Punch after punch, each attempt I made to connect with the organism seemed futile and to some degree, an utter waste of energy. This became even more humiliating when all of the shadow's blows would successfully connect time after time.
Grabbing the lapel of my shirt, it gripped tightly, pulling me closer to it. its arms tensed, squeezing all of its blood into the muscles most intended for pain and torment. Withing, seemingly seconds, of being pulled toward it, I was launched several meters back. Colliding with a dining room table, splinters pierced my skin, carving my skin into segments.
"So, are you giving up yet? Surly by now you have realised how pointless this is?" It exclaimed with such confidence.
Having barely enough energy to stand, never mind continuing this pointless bout, it soon became clear how far out of my depth I was.
This was his realm, he had lived here indefinitely, he knew the rules and how to play them to his advantage. I was a stranded visitor within my own mind. Here I was the invader. The parasite.
Spitting blood stained saliva from my lips, I pulled myself back to my feet and wiped blood from the newly formed cut that lay upon my forehead.
It's face soon turned toward me, grinning, and laughing so much, even his eyes seemed to imitate this. The clouds, formed from pure darkness, moulded, and shaped themselves into new objects and surroundings as though he was controlling them.
The clouds forming a room, with a single bed. No posters. No toys. No indication of who's room it was or for what age range.
As we both stood, I could only ponder on the thought of why he would bring us here. However, after much searching it became clear, and after a young boy crouching in the corner of the room revealed itself, I remember this exact memory.
For as long as I lay submerged within my own mind, he could use any and all of my memories to torture me, forever.
As more memories flooded in front of me, and I was forced to relive all of my worst highlights, the walls holding back the repressed memories crumbled. Now everything was available to him, and nothing was off limits.
"I- I cannot. Wh- why?" David lay there, a shattered version of himself. And now I was finally in the driver's seat. For all intents and purposes, you may call me… Human.
I know a little forward, but I kind of like it.
If you want to know what I showed David to make him crack like an egg and lie in front of me cowering, I can show you. Would you like to see all of his worst highlights of his life? Just playing for you.
Then let the highlight reel begin.