Afraid of the Dark

Çháptęr Twęnty-Øne

Shifting his green eyes from Mark to Ethan, Anti chuckled darkly before tightening his hold on the kitchen knife he had found. He loved how the handle felt, seeming to fit perfectly into the shape of his palm, allowing it to feel like less of a tool and more of some sort of extension of his hand. It felt natural. It almost felt wrong to let it go. With his pupils narrowing as he focused on a single spot, he tensed the muscles in his arm as he prepared to strike. He found it amusing how utterly terrified both of the American men looked. Interestingly, it was Ethan who looked to be in the worse state. The phrase "ignorance is bliss," didn't seem to be holding true for him.

When adrenaline takes over your body, you begin to act on nothing more than instinct. Everything which happens, everything which is said, and everything which is heard seems to become nothing more than a blur. You blink, and when your eyes are open once more, nothing is the same. You simply stand there, trying to comprehend what just happened to you, and why you were now standing in a different place or feeling a different way. You had to fight the shock to remember. This is what happened with Mark.

One moment, he was watching in horror as his corrupted friend's knuckles turned white as he strengthened his grip on the knife before driving its tip towards Ethan's heart, the silver blade glinting in the dimmed light from the hallway as it arced in a deadly swing. Mark shot out a hand and heard himself yell for the Irish man to stop, but that was the last thing he remembered.

The next thing he knew, a twisted version of Seán's face was barely more than a few inches away from his face, with the Irish man having stepped in-between the two American men. His friend had little in terms of expression, but ever so slowly a smirk spread across his face, before it gradually turned into a smile, before finally forming into a grin. His eyes stared deeply into Mark's, waiting for him to realise what had just happened. At first, all the American man could hear was the sound of everyone's breathing. But then there was a splash.

Silence.

Splash, splash.

Silence.

Splash, splash, splash.

A slow, rhythmic dripping was getting louder and louder, the drops getting heavier and heavier as they fell onto Mark's shoes and the floor around them.

"Oh my f***ing God," 'Seán' said slyly. "You're so f***ing predictable! I honestly can't believe that this worked!"

"What...?" Mark murmured. Why did he feel so... strange all of a sudden? Anti burst into laughter, his shoulders shaking uncontrollably as a sadistic smile cracked across his face. As Anti moved around, trying to calm himself down from his hysterical state, Mark could feel something tugging at his chest. It was only slight. At least at first. But as he felt it, he also heard the dripping get louder. Trying to piece together what had just happened, Mark very slowly looked down.

He looked down, to see Seán gripping onto a bloodied knife.

A bloodied knife, that was between Mark's ribs.

He was paralysed with shock, not being able to do anything more than watch the cloud of red slowly spread underneath his shirt, a small puddle of the crimson liquid pooling at his feet. The reason he could feel something tugging at his skin was because every time the Irish man laughed, he would shift the position of the blade ever so slightly. Every single time, the pain which the movement caused would get worse and worse.

Anti had tricked him. He had lured Mark closer by making it seem like he was about to hurt Ethan, only to turn the knife at the last minute. He hadn't even tried to stab the older American man. He had simply run into the blade.

"Why has everyone gone quiet? What's happening!?" Ethan asked, shuffling back nervously.

"Go downstairs, Ethan," the Irish man instructed, suddenly snapping out of his laughter, a cold stare crossing his face. Mark didn't know if he preferred it when Anti was acting like some sort of demented jester or acting with an unnerving sense of seriousness. Either way, he didn't like it.