There's a difference. Between knowing that someone is gone, and seeing them leave. Kasper had been through both. But still, a memory lingered, and that was more than he wanted and much less than he desired. Kasper was a divided force, two sides of the same coin always battling for pole position. This was no different. He was broken and he knew it.
"Dad..." He dropped to his knees slowly. The white sheet that covered the remains of his father had molded in the body fluids to his shape, his strong frame now diminished to a bag of decaying bones and carmelled grease. Like a fungus, the edges of his crisped skin had melded to the hardwood floor, swelling the surrounding surface. Just to the left was another body. Her hand, or what was left, had slipped from under the blanket and rested on the muddy runner that had been kicked into the corner.
He pressed his palms into his eyes. Don't cry. Healing wasn't something possible for him. But still he wanted it. There was pain there, somewhere along the chain linking that bound up his chest. But it was vestigial. Only a part of a bigger thing that now fell in a shroud around him. He had grown accustomed to its weight. So he stared, and the corpse stared back. It was then he realized that he had gotten taller. Or maybe the threat had gotten smaller. Either way, something had changed between them. His foot hit the corner of the bed and he jolted. Nearly dropping the gun and his ears rang to a startled alertness. Something was clicking just outside the window.
"Shit-"
...RUN...
"No..." Kaspers head throbbed and his muscles tensed.
The thing about Kasper that most set him apart, was that he was haunted. Not by ghosts, but a disembodied voice. It rattled around in his skull and prattled on about everything and nothing all at once. It was assuring in his fears, and disinterested in anything that meant something of importance. But it was seemingly made of a short temper and sounded much to familiar.
...RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN...
"Now?" In a flurry he was up.
Kasper was running. Shoving past the shadows that reached for him. He was haunted and sometimes it wasn't as simple as the word could suggest. It was more than that. Even now his Father sought to devour him, he was an ideal, his past was only part of his curse but it overshadowed everything after. He was helpless. Drunk on panic he staggered down the steps and across the overgrown lawn. The night was alive with colors, all blurring together like oil on water, the blood in Kaspers veins rushed through his body in a panicked frenzy. Panic, panic, panic, it called him to the present and away, away, away, from his past. It shattered and split under his skin into a million sappy branches.
He was burning alive.
"AGH!" Tripping over the curb his head met the pavement with a smack. The gun he held skittered out against the blacktop. "Hnnmph..." Kasper pressed his face into the sleeve of his jacket. "Gughhh- breathe-" He did, but it barely seemed to help. He pulled his legs under himself. "Breathe-"
Trauma is a funny thing,
"Breathe-"
ever chasing the ones it chooses. Closer, on the days where you can't bear to run anymore, and farther on the ones you could. Kaspers days were all winding down. All coming closer to the day he could run no more. It was a curious thing. It was an unreasonable sense of the not-so-distant future. He closed his eyes, huddled there in the dark. "One... T...mmhh...two..." Stomach turning on itself; heart pounding in a rage.
...they can smell you...
"Shut up... three."
...get up...
YOU ARE READING
The Eden Projects (Book I)
General Fiction"This story has no hero." Set in the distant future, where the government has been overthrown, and a new world power has risen, known only by the Moniker "ARK Corporation." We follow Kasper as he fights to survive in a nightmare where wrong is made...
