When I woke up, I was still in the room. Sunlight kissed my face, as I observed my surroundings. Everything was left like I saw it. No blood. And NO MONSTER. Was everything a nightmare?
I stood up, only to feel something dripping down my nose. I wiped my face; red dressed my hand.
Quickly, I put my hand, where my right eye would be.
My right eye was missing. Yesterday was real. The monster was real. It took my eye. From that day on, I had to wear an eye patch and, few weeks later, deal with white hair from my syndrome.
This is my hell. There is no choice in life. No escape. Life is controlled by a puppeteer; and once you are controlled, you can NEVER ESCAPE...
YOU ARE READING
The Devil's Room
Short StoryPain. Torture. Death. These simple meaningless words are tied with strings to the puppeteer, that controls my life, with every tug of the threads. What is the meaning of life?
