𝐋'𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐋 𝐃𝐔 𝐕𝐈𝐃𝐄 / 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐋𝐋

⋆ 𝐨𝐧𝐞 ⋆

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author's note:
not sure if i'll do these every chapter, i just wanted to say thanks for tuning in. if this is your first time reading any of my works, hey bookie :p , if you're a returning reader.. hey baybee!!! i love you, mwuah <3 (don't eat me up too bad for starting a new book and not finishing the last one). but i hope y'all enjoy this! i'm trying something a lil bit different and outta my comfort zone.
usually i have a playlist to accompany my books but i'm still working on everything and being inspired by life. this is very much a work in progress so please bare with me. i don't promise frequent uploads, i'm tryna perfect my craft rn and that takes me some time.

comment, vote, share, and gimme besos.

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chapter one
「shermar」

at the heart of his bedroom, shermar sat on a bare mattress, surrounded by painstakingly white walls that stretched endlessly in all directions. the mattress felt like a slab of cold marble against his skin, offering no warmth. beams of sunlight filtered through the shutters of two medium sized windows, acting as the only source of light in the room. the thin ribbons cast stark shadows across the white walls, painting the room in an eerie chiaroscuro.

his legs were crossed and the palms of his hands cupped together, a deep tenseness petrifying his muscles, making it impossible to relax.

in his ear canal, alongside the steady beat of his heart, sat a deafening silence.

unease gripped at his throat.

on his own terms, shermar could exhibit patience; though in this instance his impatience was a beast, relentlessly clawing at, and devouring his insides. forty days and thirty-nine long nights of waiting had worn him thin. there hadn't been so much as an essence of a sound, a creak, a rustle, a crash— anything. and each passing night of this fueled a deep sense of distress inside of him.

beneath the patience simmered a deeper unease— a fear of the suffocating emptiness that lurked in the silence, threatening to consume him whole. compared to his impatience, it felt like a much greater monster.

the urge to break something engulfed him. his eyes froze open, wildly, hungrily fleeting around the room.

unfortunately there was nothing to quench his insatiable thirst for destruction.

a muted scream escaped him as he thrashed on the stiff mattress, an inch too far to punch a hole in any of the walls.

overwhelmed with debilitating rage, he fell into a fetal position, hugging his knees tightly.

the silence pressed into his mind, instilling a stillness unlike anything he had ever experienced; somehow the silence sounded even more gruesome than blood drumming into the fibers of a shaggy rug, as it rained from a slit throat; somehow more spine-chilling than the shattering crack of a face from the force of a brick; or veins snapping and bursting against the tip of a blade, or the eery scream of a silenced pistol lodging a third bullet into a corpse.

the silence acted like a vacuum, smothering the echoes of his thoughts, not stopping until it invaded his memories and purged his introspection, completely. it left him with nothing but the relentless pounding of his own heart and weight of his isolation.

this was his purgatory: a realm completely devoid of, yet brimming with the potential for bloodshed.

he had mastered the art of thinking within the confines of silence's abstract bounds. and lying there, he nearly relaxed, perhaps finding relief in the quiet, isolation of this prison. he almost found comfort knowing that each passing moment carried him on a relentless march towards oblivion— free of purpose or direction.