It was half past four in the morning and all Walter could think about was that stupid bitch still hadn't come home. Unlike her, he had a job, which meant he had responsibilities. He had to get up at a quarter to seven and still hadn't slept a wink.

And all because of her.

Because of her damn fault.

Many times she had threatened to pick up her things and leave if "that" happened again, if he had a fit of rage. He always scoffed, didn't take her seriously. And when he came home from work, there she was, pretending nothing had happened.

Because nothing really happened. Walter had seen his father beat up his mother more times than he could count, while he could only stand shivering in the corner. That was real abuse, that was something to worry about.

What was all the fuss about if every once in a while he slapped her? Couldn't she understand that he loved her? It wasn't like he'd ever put her in the hospital.

And now she was out there, at night, god knows where, while the news was playing nothing but the same old bullshit. In the last decade the world had become even crazier and movie horrors were on the news every day. The news was no longer alarmist, at least not about "it", quite the contrary, and that's precisely why he couldn't sleep a wink.

What if something had happened to her? What if she had been torn to pieces?

What if she had been devoured?

"It's very easy to say that the bitch asked for it. Yeah, that's right. But who's left alive? Who has to suffer afterwards? Me, me. It's always me who's left."

Just as his thoughts and words were spinning, so was he. Walter did nothing but walk in circles around the room, as if at the umpteenth or hundredth turn he would find her there. As if it would turn out that she had been hiding to surprise him as if it were his birthday.

He remembered the last birthday suddenly.

Pushing her face against the warmth of the candles. That had been a little... That had been close, but of course the candles had gone out easily. The worst thing that happened to her was that she had to wash her face to get the remnants of cake off her.

He wasn't perfect. He knew he wasn't perfect, but what had he done to deserve to be put through this?

His laps finally came to an end. He could have been like this for the rest of the night if no one had interfered, but someone did. The doorbell rang. He had imagined it more than once as he tossed and turned physically and mentally, gone only to find the dark and empty night on the other side of the door, but this time he was sure the sound was real.

It had to be her - who else, at this time of night?

It had to be her.

More angry than worried again, he walked over to the door and opened it again. He had lost count of the number of times and even if he hadn't he would have lost it, erased by the rage that hit him like the waves of the sea when he saw her unconcerned face while he had been dying inside.

"What were you thinking, what the fuck were you thinking?"

Walter grabbed her by the hair and pulled her inside.

An inner voice told him that he was going too far, that he was about to cross a line. That, if he was careless, the worst possible thing was going to happen, the thing that had tormented him night after night even when he was just a brat. That is, to take after his father. But he didn't listen to her.

Deep down, he had been ignoring that voice for too long.

He had pulled at her with all his might after grabbing her hair, but she hadn't moved an inch. Her hair now covered most of her face, but that was all.

Even her expression hadn't changed.

There's something wrong here, the same inner voice told him perhaps, with identical result. But in any case, his fate wouldn't have changed. He had been laying the foundation for far too long for anything to move from its place even a little.

"Why are you resisting? You're back here, aren't you? You know this is your home, so what the fuck is wrong with you now? Huh? What the fuck is wrong with you? You're always killing me. You're always killing me. I'm trying, but..."

"She said she'd cooperate with me without complaint if I did her a favor first."

Walter froze.

That was Elizabeth's voice without a doubt. Who else would it be? He didn't drink a drop of alcohol, it was one of the ways he had tried to escape from his father's shadow, and he wasn't crazy either, he could trust what was in front of his eyes.

But those weren't her words.

That wasn't her way of expressing herself.

Nothing had been like her from the beginning.

But, as had been said, it was already too late. Pain. It reminded him of when he'd had a tooth drilled and had spent about half an hour writhing in the dentist's chair, trying desperately not to cry, to hold it together. To be a man.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Only what was now being drilled was his torso. A half-dozen... tentacles had stabbed him in the chest.

Even as he watched it flow, he could hardly believe that this was his blood.

"I didn't understand it, but now I understand it perfectly. You know, it's been a long time since I've felt anything when I killed a human being."

She said it as if she wasn't human.

Yes, she couldn't be his wife, and she definitely couldn't be a human being either. Not with those tentacles coming out of her chest to stab at his.

And, in fact, it couldn't be true. He had to be dreaming.

He must have fallen asleep at some point while waiting for her to come home, and this was nothing more than a bad dream.

"But I will enjoy this. I'd do it for free."

That was the last he heard.

No, more accurately, they were the last words he heard. The last sounds were those of his guts being churned by the tentacles....

Before the creature ripped him to shreds, and then set about eating.

2

The parasite felt tears running down what were now its cheeks. Of course, not of its own free will. It had nothing to cry about and couldn't even remember the last time it had done so.

The problem was that its host had nothing to cry about either.

"It doesn't make sense. Why are you crying? You asked me to do this and you're better off without him. You are, which is more than you could say in... I don't know, the thing is, sooner or later he would have killed you."

"I know."

"Then why?"

"I don't know. No... I guess I'm just stupid. That's why I ended up stuck with him."

"You're not stupid."

"Do you really believe that? Or are you just saying that?"

"I know. YYou used whatever was at hand, now he's dead and you're still here. You're the survivor. The winner. And at the end of the day, that's all that matters."

Silence.

Except for the sounds of the parasite chewing on flesh and bones, of course. The sounds of chewing filled it almost as much as the food it consumed. It was a primal pleasure.

"I guess you're right."

With its host's approval, the chewing sounds continued through the night. It would take it quite a while to empty the plate, after all.

3

Once the job was done, the parasite left the apartment. It had changed clothes since the clothes it had before had ended up soaked with blood in the process. It needed to look presentable. Speaking of which, it adjusted the black bow on the collar of its shirt before closing the door behind it.

Or rather, them?

In any case, the parasite was free and with a full belly. Its eyes were still red, but it had stopped shedding tears at some point. Good. It didn't like to see its host cry. They were a team, after all.

-Okay, now what?

The parasite scanned the darkness of the night with its inhuman eyes.

It had been born with a purpose, a mission. But it was a dangerous thing. The parasite was in no hurry to die. Life was exciting, the warmth and the feeling of having a full belly was pleasant. Death was just silence and darkness.

Although it had been born a few hours ago, thanks to its connection with the host it could understand those kinds of things in its own way.

It still had a lot of growing up to do and learning to do. Moreover, it wanted to do so.

4

"I am a human being."

A beast growled that in the darkness of his cage.

Sylvester was gone and even the scientists watching him as if he were nothing more than a lab rat had disappeared. He had no doubt that they were watching him from somewhere. From their point of view, they couldn't afford to let their guard down.

But if he couldn't sense their presence, it was the same as being truly alone. Right now he would settle for even the company of people who didn't even think of him as a human being.

"I am human."

After all, how could they think otherwise? Even he had doubts. It was a good thing they had turned off the lights. He didn't want to see this monstrous face reflected in the glass of his cage.

Ryan didn't want to see it, but he could see enough. Not that he could see in the dark, but his animal eyes had had plenty of time to get used to it. So he could see enough. A little too much.

He saw that everything was different and there seemed to be no turning back. Time and again he had failed in his attempt to return to his human form.

"But, I am human."

He kept repeating the same thing in that empty, silent darkness. No one was listening to him. And even if they did listen, they didn't give a shit. They wouldn't be treating him this way if they thought he was human, after all.

Why should they when even he had doubts? So he could do nothing but repeat that. As he grunted and cried quietly in the dark.

That wasn't the only thing he was doing. A scraping sound could be heard continuously. That was because he was using his claws to mark on the glass the passage of time.

How often did he make a new mark every minute or hour? He could no longer remember. He was sure he had gotten confused a few times already, but he didn't know one way or the other.

It hadn't been that long. It hadn't even been that long, but he felt like he was going crazy here.

Naturally. A human being couldn't live this way.

"But, I am a human being."

Was that a statement or a prayer?

In any case, it disappeared into the stillness of the darkness.

5

Sylvester looked down.

There was nothing beneath his feet. Only the endless blue sky and the horizon of an unnamed city. It was a beautiful and relaxing sight. He wasn't the kind of person who stopped to smell the roses, so to speak, but even he could recognize that.

It allowed him to do his best to relax as the water fell over his head and trickled all over his naked body. Through his taut muscles, hard as steel wires. Across his battle scars. The traces of a decade-long struggle scarred on his body forever.

He could regenerate from wounds that would kill any human being and even a few Lunar Remnants. However, that didn't mean that any damage would leave scars on his body. It was impossible to live a life like his without scars. They were like proof that he had survived so far as a human being.

Sylvester took a deep breath.

Alive or dead. Human or inhuman. Not all the Lunar Remnants he had killed in that ten-year history had been animals without self-awareness.

Most had been full of life. They had been angry. They had despaired. After being defeated, they had begged for their lives or accepted their fate.

They had tried to rationalize their actions, repenting though too late, now that they had already stained their hands with the blood of other human beings.

But wasn't he stained too?

He was not going to do something useless or too sentimental like blaming himself for killing beings who had murdered innocents, but it was a fact that killing them meant more than slaughtering a rabid animal. It was an inescapable truth.

What did it mean?

Throwing his wet hair back with both hands, he shook his head as well and closed his eyes. Perhaps there was no point in asking such questions. He was like a machine whose only function was to kill. No matter what answer he reached, he wouldn't fail to fulfill his function, after all.

The scenery of a nameless city that didn't exist in this world disappeared beneath his feet. He was done with his shower.

He stepped out of the shower and began to towel dry his hair. His body as well. He reached for his clothes and dressed methodically, thinking of nothing in particular for a change. His mind as blank as possible.

He supposed that was what peace of mind was all about.

New day, new battles.

Sylvester turned his back to the mirror.