"Hey Rachel I'm gonna head out early, feeling pretty sick. Could you close the store tonight for me?" I said as I gently touched Rachel's shoulder.
"Woah!" she yelped with a small jump. "Didn't know you were there Steve." Rachel replied with a small laugh. "Um, yeah sure I'll cover you this time." She looked at me more closely.
"Man you look rough, you need to get some sleep dude. Don't worry about the store and just head home."
"Thanks Rachel, I appreciate it." I said as I quickly left the shop. The wooden door of the store creaking loudly as I hurried out. Bob would grill me later about leaving but I'd rather take the lecture than almost lose it again. I quickened my pace as I neared mye beat up pile of a car that was damn near as old as the antiques we sold.
That was too close. I thought while resting my head on the steering wheel. Should start looking for another job, try to find one with minimal interaction with people. The urge to hurt things -people especially- never quite goes away. I can't remember a time when it wasnt there, whispering dark thoughts of violence and pain. The voice I came to call it.
The street lamps turn on with a quiet buzz around me as the twilight of evening gradually settles into night. Lifting my head, I observe my reflection in the windshield.
A pair of sunken eyes stares back at me from under an unruly mop of curly black hair. A thin face combined with high cheekbones gave off a sickly vibe. No matter how well rested I was I just could never shake the gaunt nature of my face. "Zombie", Dad would tease me with when I was younger. It was honestly a fairly apt description. Though I'd never admit as much to him.
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I should grab something to watch with Dad. Spend some time with him. The idea came to me as I pulled out of the parking lot. It'd be a nice distraction from the voice. The thought of my father darkened my mood even further. Memories of him hale and healthy clashed with the vicious reality of constant hospital visits combined with endless fees.
Once an absolute bear of a man, 6'3 with a back as straight as only a career soldier could have. He caught a piece of shrapnel in the spine from an IED while deployed in the Middle East. Losing most motor functions from the neck down. Heavy physical therapy led to slight recovery of his arms -enough to barely wheel himself around- but he would never walk again. Mom divorced him and left the family a few months after the incident. I suppose she just couldn't handle the loss. Not that it stopped her from grabbing every penny she could from us.
Briefly stopping to pick up a movie, I made my way to the apartment complex I called home. It isn't in the best neighborhood or even moderately sized, but it's cheap and keeps the rain out. Pulling into the usual parking space, I start to gather my things to head inside.
What am I going to do for dinner? Maybe I'll order takeout from that Chinese place Dad li-
"HEAR US YE FRAIL HUMANS. DEATH BEARS DOWN UPON THY FEEBLE WORLD. THE INFINITE BLACK WILL TAKE ALL WHO LET IT. THE SIX OBSERVE FROM ABOVE AND BELOW. STRUGGLE, SO THY LAME BODIES MIGHT PERSIST. DO NOT AVERT THY GAZE. FACE TO BLOODSHED."
The speech screamed through my mind as a storm might; with a voice that was gutteral and harsh and beautiful and warm all at once. The volume and sheer strength of the words knocking me flat against the driver's seat as my eyes rolled into my head. Convulsing in place, I felt a wet sensation on my face and vauguely realized I had a nosebleed before blacking out.