Experiment of Madness

12‐A Knife in the Dark-Aerra

All that  surrounded me was the  silence . I often wondered what my siblings were up to. With five brothers and sisters, people assumed we were a close-knit family. Yet, the reality was far from it.

I shook my head, a bitter smile playing at the corners of my lips. "Do they ever wonder what I'm doing or how I am?"I muttered to myself. The fact that they didn't even bother to check on me was a stark reminder of how cold they were.

I looked up as Dag emerged from the bathroom, clad only in a towel around his hips. My eyes momentarily widened at the sight, and then I quickly looked away, feeling my cheeks flush with embarrassment.

I tried to ignore the flutter in my stomach as Dag walked past, my thoughts swimming with confusion.

What is this weird feeling?

I wondered silently, my heart beating a little faster than usual.

  I froze, the sudden voice in my head catching me off guard. "Run away," it insisted, the tone urgent and commanding.

Dag's voice brought me back to reality, his question snapping me out of my internal struggle. "What's wrong?"he repeated, his tone laced with concern.

I swallowed hard, my heart thundering in my chest. Should I reveal the truth to Dag? Would he laugh it off, or would he react differently? The uncertainty made my palms sweat, my pulse racing even faster.

"What's wrong?"

I hesitated, my lips parting as if to speak, but the words getting lodged in my throat. "It's nothing, really," I managed to muster, my voice slightly quivering. But I knew I was a terrible liar, and Dag's perceptive gaze made my half-truth feel even more inadequate.

Dag disappeared into the bathroom, leaving me alone with my troubled thoughts once again. The silence of the room settled around me, only amplifying the maelstrom of emotions swirling inside me.

Once again, the voice in my head urged me to flee. "Run," it whispered, the urgency in its tone growing more intense. My heart pounded in my chest, my legs itching to obey the command.

I forced myself to take a deep, steadying breath, trying to calm the storm in my mind. "Calm down," I muttered to myself, repeating the words like a mantra. "It's just a feeling. It'll pass."

The voice in my head transformed into a harsh, impatient whisper. "Run, bitch," It repeated, its tone more commanding than ever. I bristled at the harshness, a mix of anger and anxiety welling up inside me.

I slowly stood up, trying to regain control of my emotions. "Calm down," I whispered once again, my hands clenched into fists at my sides. I closed my eyes, taking deep,measured breaths, willing my heart rate to slow down.

The sudden command from the voice in my head caught me off guard, jolting me out of my attempted calm. "Take a knife," it whispered, the words cold and ominous. I paused, my heart racing again. "What? No," I argued aloud, my voice shaky.

My mind reeled at the idea of taking a knife, but the voice in my head was insistent. "Take a knife," it repeated, its tone growing more persistent. I shook my head, a mix of fear and defiance welling up inside me. "No, I won't," I said aloud, my voice quivering.

The question from the voice in my head confused me. "For who is this knife?"I echoed aloud, my tone laced with frustration.

Dag entered the room once more, his gaze settling on me. I felt a tingle of irritation as our eyes met.

Dag's voice cut through my thoughts, his casual tone only serving to annoy me further. "Why are you standing?"he asked.  I found myself trying to sound as casual as possible. "Just stretching my legs," I replied, my tone a forced nonchalance.

Dag's words struck a nerve, his unexpected observation hitting too close to home. "You should sleep," he reiterated, his voice casual yet laced with an air of concern. "You haven't slept since you came here."

The lie rolled off my tongue effortlessly. "I'm not sleepy," I said, my tone firm and definitive. But even as the words left my mouth, I knew deep down that it was a lie. I was exhausted, both physically and mentally, but I refused to admit it.
"You haven't slept either."

Dag shrugged lazily, his nonchalance irking me even more. "True," he agreed, his response infuriatingly casual. "I haven't slept either."

I retreated to the space under the bed, seeking the comfort of the sleeping bag. The cool darkness enveloped me, allowing me a moment of peace from the chaos of my thoughts.

I lay in the darkness, my thoughts racing as I struggled to find sleep. I knew the truth – my difficulty in sleeping was rooted in two fears. First, I didn't trust Dag, my wariness keeping me on edge. Secondly, the thought of the darkness reaching out to me as I closed my eyes filled me with a chilling dread.

I lay there, lost in a sea of uncertainty. Could I trust Dag? I didn't know. The doubts swirled in my mind, making it hard to think straight.

What if Dag was sent by my family to kill me? His seemingly casual demeanor could be a guise,concealing a sinister plan. Maybe he hadn't killed me yet because he was waiting for the right moment, carefully planning my demise.

As my thoughts spiraled further, I found myself biting my nails, trying to control the nervous energy that coursed through me. I tried to keep the sound suppressed, not wanting Dag to hear my restlessness.

My senses suddenly became hyperaware, and I picked up on a faint, metallic scent. My heart skipped a beat – it was the smell of blood.

I quickly eliminated the possibilities, discarding the idea that the blood smell was coming from my feet, my back, or my nails. Those sources made no sense. The scent was too strong, too distinct.

I lay still, my pulse racing as I tried to source the origin of the blood smell. It was too potent to be imagined, and the realization sent a chill down my spine. Was the blood coming from Dag? Had he intentionally or unintentionally cut himself?

A gasp escaped my lips as my fingers grazed against something cold and metallic. A knife. My eyes widened in disbelief. How had a knife ended up next to me? Who had placed it there, and for what purpose?

A mix of fear and curiosity flooded my senses as I gripped the knife, its cold metal biting into my palm. My mind reeled with questions. Who had put this knife here? Was it a threat, or was it simply misplaced? And more importantly, could I trust Dag?

I strained my ears, listening intently for any signs of movement from Dag. The room was enveloped in silence, and I couldn't tell if he was asleep or awake. My heart pounded in my chest, the uncertainty only adding to my growing unease.

The possibility that all of this was just a dream crossed my mind, but the scent of blood and the cool metal of the knife in my hand felt too real to dismiss. If it was a dream, it was the most vivid and terrifying one I had ever had.

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