The Lost Ones

5

I do not want to believe that death is the gateway to another life. For me, it is a closed door. I do not say it is a step we must all take, but that it is a horrible and dirty adventure. 

-Albert Camus

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"NO! This isn't how it's supposed to be!" He screamed. His chest seemed to close up as it became increasingly difficult to breathe air into his lungs. His entire world was closing in on him and he had no way to stop it.

"Please!" He shouted toward the figure standing over his lover's body. The figure looked eerily similar to him. It was like staring into a warped mirror, at an image he didn't want to see. The culmination of all his bad decisions and horrible aspirations, his selfish goals, and all the shit he did to get them stood in front him and smirked. That smirk turned into a wolfish grin until he finally broke out into raucous laughter. His eyes gleamed with a different type of insanity.

Not the television type of insanity, where you grow tired of society and its norms and just go absolutely crazy. Not the type of sadistic insanity you hear about from doctors where your mind breaks and you know nothing but violence and murder is the only thing you can comprehend. No, this couldn't even be categorized as insanity.

The man standing over San's body was a psychopath, plain and simple.

He enjoyed the thrill of the kill. He laughed at other's pain and took sick joy in seeing his enemies and comrades alike writhe in pain. He liked it. He reveled in it. That wasn't the scariest thing about him to Hongjoong. It was the simple fact that this man, this murderer, this...psychotic seeming figment of his imagination was him. It was a culmination of every single bad thought he's had since he was little. Every time he got mad at one of his members, or saesangs, or his manager or random people on the street. Every single violent thought, action, or reflex came together to form him. That's what scared him. It was the fact that no matter what, he could not escape the fact that this was him in every way. He looked like him, talked like him, walked like him down to the way his lips quirked up when something amused him or how his eyebrows furrowed when he got annoyed. They were so eerily similar it was absolutely sickening.

"Wake up, Hongjoong. Time to play."

Hongjoong woke up in a cold sweat. The dreams seemed to be getting worse. He should talk to his therapist about it. He really, really should. But then again, Hongjoong should do a lot of things, didn't mean he would.

'Dammit.' He thought.

He whipped his head around to stare at the window. The window was shut. There was nothing there. So why did he feel so uneasy? Staring through the glass, red eyes popped up and burst through the window and a man materialized in his room. He couldn't even scream as the man moved behind him and whispered.

"Scream, Hongjoong. Scream." It sang in a sing-song voice. It was toying with him. This was a game to it. To them, his life was a form of entertainment.

 "I dare you. You thought you could get away with this?" It chuckled. It was a haunting sound. A sound he would remember for the rest of his life and a sound that would haunt his dreams for many nights to come.

"If there is one thing you should've known by now is that you cannot one-up him. This is all your fault." It smiled. Its fangs glinted in the dark and its eyes shone with murderous intent. "Now, everyone and everything you hold dear will suffer."

"Especially those exes of yours. Beautiful aren't they? Mortals but still. Their blood should taste the same. " It hissed.

Damn it, Hongjoong. You've really done it now, haven't you?

-Ares❄