A Soul's Caress: Breathe

Hunting for the Next One

I hear the screaming first. It's the kind of scream that sounds like it's coming from a wild animal being mercilessly slaughtered. It's not human. It can't be. I don't want it to be.

But it is. And, it's female. Her savage cries for help will go unanswered. There's no one to hear her. No one to save her. Not from this beast. A thing that kills without remorse. Without regret. A creature without a soul.

I want to help her. But the only way to do that...is to remember. Remember everything. Every little detail I recall later will be another piece to the puzzle.

But why does it have to be me? What did I ever do to suffer these visions of the soon to be dead? Every prayer I have lifted to the heavens has been to forget. Yet no one is listening. I wasn't given a choice. I was given a burden. And it's one that will probably kill me some day.

My senses are bombarded from within. Bright flashes that bite into the back of my skull and gnaw on my mind. A mind that is not my own when these glimpses happen.

What he does, I do. What he fears, I fear. What he loves, I love. And, he has a love for...

Blood.

So much blood.

I can smell the coppery scent as it hangs in the air. Taste the metallic tang on my tongue as I lick my lips. Feel the cooling warmth as I rub it between my fingertips.

And I want...MORE.

Zayne Matthews bolted upright in his bed. Screams that were hers were now his own. His body was drenched from the sweat of his paralyzing nightmare. Oxygen became the most precious thing to him as he gasped for air in his one-bedroom apartment. He swallowed the sob that tried to wrench itself free from his throat.

His phone vibrated softly against the wooden nightstand and was about to fall off the chipped edge when he grabbed it.

"Yeah," he said, his voice filled with gravel. The person on the other end of the call kept it short and sweet which he was grateful for.

"Fine. Half hour."

He ended the call with a forceful tap.

Zayne sat there alone in the welcomed darkness, the hum of the central air unit his only company. But, that's how he liked it. It was how he needed his life to be. Especially when he had nights like this one.

Throwing the sheets off his naked body, he gathered some clean clothes from his dresser and walked into his large bathroom. The sun had not yet risen but he knew there would be no more sleep for him today. He turned on the water in the shower and waited for the steam to consume the room.

A small night light bulb was the only light he afforded himself. The headache he knew would come after such a vivid dream was already brewing behind his eyes. He filled the small cup by the faucet with water and downed four ibuprofen tablets.

He stared at the face looking back at him in the mirror above the pedestal sink. A long, tired sigh came from it. Running his hand through his longer than usual dark hair, he gazed into his own eyes and began to wonder if it was all worth it. This wasn't the first night he questioned whether or not life was worth living and it wouldn't be the last.

The nightmares were getting worse. HE was getting worse. No one had to tell him he was not the same person who had graduated from the Center for the Gifted ten years ago. He could see it himself in the darkening shadows on his haggard face.

Gradually, the image in the mirror fogged over and he made his way to the shower. Before stepping in, however, he turned the handle from the red H to the blue C and waited a few seconds. Then, without hesitation, he stepped into the shower and stood tiredly under the now freezing water.