𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐎𝐌

82| O T T A N T A-D U E

AKILA'S POV

The sun rose, awakening the hidden and chasing the underworld, the darkness, the Demons trapped in one place til their time comes once again in a matter of hours, in a matter of balance between day and night, between us and the other side of the planet.

I push the thin covers off my body and sit up. I will always truly wish to only awake in the dark, flicker my eyes open and blink to find the stars glowing within their moon as the sky darkens instead of its blue, surrounded by white clouds, protecting their source of light, heat and life.

I would rather live among the dead, among the worst, down hill, down Hell.

Hell. No matter how bright it gets, how sunshine breaks through windows and projects vitamin d, I would still choose a lonely moon, an empty street, an abandoned house to hunt because I believe it's reality, I believe every night must fall, to reveal the days' true colors, veiled and masked flaws and truth that we forget, we release its pressure just for the sake of the moments of letting go for an hour or two to breath, to calm yet I never followed that rule.

Have I ever followed any rule?

I push myself off the bed, securing the deep thoughts after my shower. I didn't need a clock to tell me what time it was, it's almost ten.

You may wonder how I knew, how I discovered and it's simply the years. When I was young, I wanted to waste time, I needed to waste time, I needed a distraction so I would take one glance at the time and damn myself if I even think of another glance. I would start counting, second by second until I matched its paste and here I am, able to tell time without any effort.

It's much easier now, at first I had to focus, not forgetting each tick with the universe but now, I don't need to order, to remember, it all happens on its own.

It's a voice, a sound, counting in the back of my head as I live and do whatever my hands are busy with, once I wonder what time it is, the voice answers as quick as the glance, as quick as the eye would blink and shift across the room for the same answer.

A gift we may call it but I think it's pretty normal, considering the many effects from insomnia, compared to the other dozen skills I've blessed myself with.

I taught myself so many things, I learned to control my body, my mind and my hormones of sleep and energy.

It sounds surreal which makes me believe harder, deeper. If anyone is capable, if anyone has the power, the passion, the will to be, it's me.

So I use that same determination and hop into the shower. Throwing my clothes off my body, I step in and time the cold water all the way up, allowing it to strike my skin with reality, with the coldness of touch, higher and icer than any waterfall I could stand under.

Sometimes I like to think blood doesn't run through my veins and maybe that's why I crave it so much, to ruin it, to watch it spill and splatter over a surface and admire it's dark mighty color. It's beautiful.

This is my morning, bloody thoughts, cursed touch, wicked smile, sinful desires and doing that never stop. Never. Such a powerful word.

And it attracts me, it pulls me in asking for my attention and I give in, I give in freely, I give because it's a bargain, they offer and I take, I give and they satisfy as told.

Anything heartless, burned or lifeless marks me, represents me in some ways, other I vibrate with them or they reach to me, to wrap around my neck, hugging my curves like white gold, painful, rich, pleasant, astonishing and evil.