CARNIVORE [MxM+]

Chapter 35 [Revised]

TW for some no-no words 

Tycho Black.

I CAN'T LEAVE MY ROOM. I can't think about it. I can't go towards the door. I can't exist outside of here. I can't, I just can't.

Usually, when my life falls apart, my concept of time does, too. Yet, this time, I'm hyperaware of the clock on the wall, almost like the most recent events matter more than anything that's come before them. I think they do.

It's been twenty-eight hours since I found myself outside, thinking I was surrounded by danger. It's been twenty-eight hours since I realized too late that I wasn't protecting myself by raising my fists. Instead, I was hurting one of the only things I held close to my heart. Every time I closed my eyes, two memories interlaced themselves in front of me. The day I met Alexei, and the day I most certainly lost him. 

I sighed. Twenty-eight hours. I shouldn't be alive.

I'm not safe anymore. Out there or in here. I can't be safe outside because of Jason's overlooming presence, like some tyrant keeping a close eye on the people of his kingdom; the all-seeing eye. I can't escape that oppressor. 

I'm not safe in here either-- something whispers to me at night. I don't know its name or what it even is, but it feels evil. It crushes me with its presence, mentally and physically. I recognize it in another way. I feel it behind me whenever I try to leave through the door. It takes hold of my arms and legs and sticks me in place. It doesn't let me breathe until I turn around. It's worse than the fear I've felt my entire life. I don't know what makes it different, but it's more intense than anything I've ever felt.

I can't exist here. I can't exist. This is all I have left. I don't have much time.

The moment I knew of the sin I committed, my body permanently turned against me. My throat always feels closed from a mixture of dehydration and anxiety. I have to pay attention to my breathing at all times, or I'll stop, like I'm my own life support. My stomach has started eating itself, but it tells me that if I try to eat anything, I'll regret it. My bladder screams at me to be relieved, but my mind makes sure I don't get the bright idea of leaving. I've tried leaving through the window to go into the woods or something, but even that was too risky. Jason could be out there. He got my mother, but he won't get me. I'll make sure of it.

But there was hope, late last night. I think I caught a glimpse of it when I was on the verge of collapsing.

That whispering was there, prevalent as ever, but it was accompanied by something else, coming in the same form. The bad one sat on top of me when I tried to sleep to make sure I couldn't move and couldn't breathe. It dug its claws into my skin and latched its teeth onto my throat. Yet, the moment I heard the good one, it almost disappeared.

There was a voice-- no, two-- that sat outside my door. I didn't recognize them. 

But they were kind. They told me nice things. They told me how wonderful the outside world was, and how much I was missed in it. I think they're lying to me, though. Nothing could possibly miss me because I was invisible to the naked eye. I wasn't part of the seen world; I was only observed under Jason's thumb. There was no way something so kind and full of life could miss me, much less know I exist. I let the bad voice pull me into the farthest corner of the room so I could rot away.

I don't want to rot away.

A few more hours passed. The pain in my abdomen was unbearable, so I acted before I could think. I peered out the window above my bed. The rain was gone, but frost crawled up the glass like a parasite. I unlatched it and swung it open, cold air seeping into the room in waves. My skin was covered in goosebumps, and my breath condensed in the air, coming out of my mouth in puffs of smoke. A shiver racked its way through my body, causing me to wrap my arms around my chest in instinct.