My Addiction - Tom kaulitz

entities

For a while he doesn't speak, his lips stay curled and his smile stays frozen, unmoved. I tried smiling back, yet nothing I do will stop this smile from possessing his face. And no matter where I move, his eyes follow shortly behind, each step observed and calculated as he stands and smiles. It swallows me.

"Tom, please stop, you're scaring me." I whisper from a distance, my voice barely breaking over the quiet crackles of the radio, I watch him closely as the muscles in his face begin to twitch and the corners of his mouth shudder. His face finally drops, yet some crinkles around his eyes remain tensed. I sigh, and the hot air trapped in my lungs begins flowing from my nostrils, my stiffened shoulders and legs relaxing as my back slumps.

The sheer darkness of the room engulfs us. Each of us become mere silhouettes, two-dimensional shapes that barely register as people. A silence dawns on us, filled only by the sound of stifled breathing and shuffling steps. Yet I'm not the one moving. Tom is somewhere within that void, and I can't even see two inches in front of me. "Tom?" I call out, half expecting silence as an answer. But from behind me, my name is whispered down my neck. The hairs running along my spine prick to a stand as my neck tenses, shivers rake along my body while my lower lip quivers. I can only imagine what kind of sinister smile he's bearing, how amused he must be at the fear he instilled in me.

He places his hand on my shoulder, and as my body thrusts me into fight or flight I grip onto him, pulling my face into his chest my legs too shaky to keep ahold of myself as my face nestles into the firmness of his chest. My breath jolts out in short, shallow gasps and his heartbeat echos in my ears as it pounds away at my eardrums. Fear and adrenaline surges within me in a potent mix. 

Despite my shuddering body and quaky breaths, Tom shoves me away from him, sending me back into the dark abyss gnawing at our very souls. I reach out blindly, my other senses heightened as the cold marble counter sends icy sparks from my fingertips to my spine. Each object I touch clatters ominously, their noises echoing like foreboding whispers in the dark. The glasses filled with brandy smash onto the floor, splashing the liquor up my legs like cold, mocking blood. I take a cautious step, aiming to navigate the treacherous field of crystal shards beneath me. As I plant my foot down, a large, jagged fragment of glass pierces the soft skin of my foot, a sharp, searing pain that feels like the abyss itself has sunk its teeth into me.

I slap my palm over my mouth, stifling a gasp as my breath lodges in my throat. Warm tears streak down my knuckles as I stand one-legged, eyes wide and unblinking, every nerve on edge, waiting for Tom to emerge from the darkness. I gingerly place my toes on the floor, careful not to drive the shard deeper into my foot, and hobble away, my hand clamped over my mouth, subconsciously stifling even the faintest breath, as if any sound could summon the horrors lurking in the shadows. 

The metal of the stair railing glints ominously in the darkness, as I grip it, the force of my hand produces a hollow thud that reverberates through the unnervingly silent house. From above, perhaps only two or three steps up, a deep, sinister chuckle pierces the oppressive fog of silence. My head falls back as I look up at the ceiling, I have a few choices, or I would have a few choices, but the shard lodged in my foot alters my options. Gritting my teeth, I lift my foot up and wrap my free hand around the glass as the other covers my mouth, shielding me from any hint of a whimper, I close my eyes and tug against the large fragment. It resists, embedded stubbornly in my sole. The skin of my palm splits under the relentless pressure, blood mingling with the icy fear coursing through my veins, yet I refuse to yield, determined to wrestle free from the sinister grip of fate with grim determination.

I wrench free from the sharp teeth of the glass, clutching it tightly in my hand as my injured foot thuds back onto the floor, blood seeping from the wound, a sickening warmth amidst the encroaching numbness. "Just give up, Angel," Tom's voice cuts through the air, each word echoing in the caverns of my mind. With my hand still pressed against my trembling lips, I draw sharp, ragged breaths through my running nose. A solitary light flickers to life at the far end of the hallway up the stairs, casting eerie shadows that dance around Tom's figure, rendering him nothing more than a sinister silhouette, an entity, a figment of my unraveling sanity. He descends a step, his features still shrouded by the darkness. "You have two choices," his voice drips with malice as he takes another deliberate step, drawing closer with every heartbeat. "Give up... Or die where you stand."