Thought You Knew (based on A Gorey Demise)

"K is for Kimmy who was shot in the head..."

[[Chapter started: March 28th, 2015]]
       
        Nightmares. Countless, countless nightmares. Before they started, the only things preventing me from the soothing darkness of unconsciousness were the voices. But then my conscience was plagued with constant fear at night. It was all I felt. It was paranoia, feelings that something sinister was watching me from the city streets below, planning to harm me right in my own bedroom. Nowhere was safe, and no one was to be trusted. I compulsively crept out of the warmth of my blankets to cautiously approach my window, only to confirm that nothing was there. I reasoned that they must somehow know that I was going up to the window, so they quickly hid out of view. Surely that was why I couldn't ever catch them. Who were they, though? I never found out, but I knew they were there. Always there. I didn't know if they were good or bad, or if they wanted to protect me or harm me. I was starting to question how safe I really was in the world, even behind the locked doors of my house.  I wasn't safe, not anywhere. They'd follow me, closely observe every one of my actions. They knew everything about me, they could read my mind. Were they the Misfits, or a whole other entity? I don't know. I still don't know. I wish I knew...
        It was only three days after Johnny died. Only THREE DAMN DAYS when Twenty Four finally confronted me again.
        "Curtis," he spoke as I was putting construction paper over my window at night, "why haven't you been making more sacrifices? As your advisor, it is my duty to make sure you keep filling your quota." I lowered my head without replying.
        "What happened to you, boy?" His voice was oddly gentle and kind. "You used to be so confident and so clever. You had great ideas, and you executed them flawlessly. We were an unstoppable team, you and I, but it didn't last long," he paused, sighing. "The Misfits are forgiving, but only to a certain extent, Curtis. You must understand that you have a job to do."
        "A job that I didn't initially agree to," I added.
        "But a job that you enjoyed once you got into it. Don't you remember the amazing feeling of dominating others, the sensation of fresh blood that you spilled splattering onto your skin, and the melodic sound of chorusing screams of agony and terror as your prey helplessly died at your hand?" The familiar sight of my room faded away and before me materialized a cell in an old, rusty dungeon that smelled of death and decay. Standing shackled to the wall was a short man with greasy blonde hair that was matted with dried blood. He was shirtless and his exposed flesh was laced with cuts inflicted by whips. He wept and sobbed, occasionally coughing up spurts of crimson that sparkled when it caught the dim light emanating from a gas lantern that sat upon a petit table. As I examined the table, I noticed something silver reflecting the light of the lantern. I investigated to find a silver key sitting there. I picked it up and tried to unlock the cell with it. With a short, satisfying 'click' the lock came undone. I pushed the creaky cell door open and approached the man. He looked up at me with trauma filled eyes, his lips quivering as an overwhelming feeling of horror and helplessness took over him for the umpteenth time. I didn't even have to do anything and he was already begging for mercy, pleading to be set free of his torment.
        "You did this to him, Curtis," Twenty Four's voice echoed through the damp corridors of the dungeon. "Look at what you've done to him. It's wonderful, isn't it? You have complete control over him, his life rests in your hands. Finish him off in whatever way you please, as you have unlimited options. This is kind of power you hold inside of you, you just need to learn to use it when it needs to be used." As Twenty Four convinced me, I selected a rusted knife that laid upon the floor in a puddle of contaminated water. I can't deny that I liked stabbing him with it, watching the red fluid seep out of every wound I carved into my human canvas, creating fine art in a most macabre way. The thought that I simply took his life away with a snap of my fingers cracked me up. It was a fantastic feeling that no squeamish coward could ever achieve. It was a shame that it all came to an end when I suddenly woke up within the light gray walls of my room.
        The day went by like any other. School was particularly boring and routine, the voices chattered on and on throughout the day, and nothing anymore thrilling happened at home. In fact, the next six days passed as such. Even the weekend was uneventful. On a Wednesday night, Twenty Four returned.
        I don't want to talk about this, but you will all make me. I know you will. You all know who I am, you know everything about me. Maybe YOU'RE the entities that stalked me in the night. I really don't want to talk about this, but we both know that I have to. Fine, I will. I will because of you. Are you happy? I hope so, because if you're not, I'll be... upset. Anyways, Twenty Four appeared one sleepless night and without warning he roughly dragged me out of my bed, slapping one hand over my mouth so that I couldn't scream. As a 13 year old boy I couldn't fight him, as he was a full grown man. He pinned me to the ground and started furiously beating me up while he cursed at me.
        "STUPID, LAZY, UNGRATEFUL BOY!" he hissed in my face as he whaled me. "DO YOU NOT REMEMBER THE TALK WE HAD ONLY SIX BLOODY DAYS AGO? I TOLD YOU TO STOP SLACKING AND GET YOURSELF BACK ON TRACK AND WHAT DO YOU DO? NOTHING! YOU DO ABSOLUTELY NOTHING FOR US! WHAT IS FUCKING WRONG WITH YOU?" He revealed a jagged knife and proceeded to stab me mercilessly, while all I could do is attempt to scream and cry. Speaking of crying, I doing that right now. Are you happy? Good. He was so enraged that he ripped open my gut and started removing my organs, tossing them about in disarray all over the floor. Such a nice memory, isn't it? Yeah, it's one of my favorites to talk about! Love this god damn memory SO MUCH! Stop making me do this, I don't like it. I don't like writing this. Stop forcing me to do this. Help me. I'm sorry, I will stop doing that. Don't hurt me, I promise I won't do it again. My torture didn't stop there, as he began to force feed me my newly cut out organs. I always wanted to taste blood, but not my own blood. I wept as I awaited the sweet release of death to overcome me, but alas, it never did. I remained fully aware of the situation as Twenty Four diced me up into sections and neatly organized pieces of me into piles. He pulled out my teeth one by one, cut out my tongue, broke my fingers and toes with a heavy headed hammer, all while staring me in the eyes with an evil glare. After what felt like days, the agony finally stopped to the feeling of someone putting a cold hand on my shoulder. I abruptly snapped out of the hallucination to see Erik.
        "Curtis?" he asked with a concerned tone. I stared on blankly, shocked and horrified. I realized that I was trembling.
        "E-Erik?" He weakly smiled.
        "Hi... are you okay?" He knew that I obviously wasn't 'okay,' but he asked anyways. Embarrassingly, I burst into tears and embraced him, not caring that we had just met. "What happened?" I not-so-calmly explained to him the events that to this day still haunt me. "You really are insane," he commented, half jokingly to try and maybe cheer me up.
        "That's what the doctors claim," I responded.
        "Maybe you should tell your parents about what happened," he suggested. I considered it, but I really didn't like seeing the doctor and my parents were worried enough as it was.
        "I might," I half lied. "It's hard to talk about." He nodded understandably before taking a step back.
        "I have to go. I had something to tell you but it's not important. I'll tell you later." Before I could reply, he was gone. I walked downstairs to get something to eat when I heard the front door open. I spotted my father walking in with hunting gear (as he went hunting for a few days and had just arrived home). I witnessed him putting the guns away, and came up with a brilliant idea. The Misfits needed sacrifices, so sacrifice people I would continue to do. If they would start harming me if I didn't do my job, then do my job I would continue to do. I made a plan and put it to action that very night. I grabbed and old gym bag that was in my closet and stole one of my dad's rifles. I quickly snuck out of the house and into the forest nearby. The night was cold and all I wore was a light hoodie. I shivered inside the little warmth that the clothing provided as a crisp breeze sliced through the atmosphere. I adored the forest at night. I felt safe within the shadows cast by the trees that loomed high above me, comforted by the soft sounds of night dwelling critters scuttling through the bushes. I lurked through the darkness as if I were a predator stalking its prey, slipping through the underbrush, conspiring for blood. Eventually, I came across a group of teenage idiots gathered around a fire, drinking like there was no tomorrow. Two girls and four guys, all around the same age and all ridiculously drunk. They were talking so obnoxiously loudly that I could hear every word they spoke clearly from on top of fairly tall cliff above them.
        "Hey Kimmy! Tell us, how many dudes did you fuck last weekend?" one girl inquired the other. The girl 'Kimmy' laughed as she replied.
        "Too many to count, bitch."
        "You're such a damn slut," one of the guys put in jokingly. I completely agree. I thought to myself as I opened the gym bag and acquired the rifle. My mind briefly flashed back to around three months ago when my father taught me how to properly fire it, back when I showed interest in hunting. I loaded it, went down on one knee and carefully aimed. I took my time, not wanting to miss and ruin my opportunity. I also picked a spot above where I could see them, but they couldn't see me, especially in their drunken state. Carefully, carefully... and I gently pulled the trigger. BANG! The job was done. I saw Kimmy drop to the ground limply, followed by the delayed screams of her companions. I giggled as I put the rifle away and ran home, returning the gun to where I had found it.

[[Holy shit nearly 2000 words. Good. I literally just limited myself to eating Cheetos for breakfast so I could get this done XD. Gonna go eat something real now, thanks for reading!]]