Cаnnibal ~ Рhan

Fіvє

~Dan's POV

It bothered me, the colour white. It always had, but it in a way most people wouldn't think. Most weren't fond of it because of it's blandness, how it was so pale and seemingly boring. The fact that everywhere you look, you are confronted with the colour.

Of course I disliked it for reasons totally different. Not one thing about me conformed to the normality of others. And this was no exception.

I didn't like it because it was the opposite of black. The polar opposite. Bright, light, illuminating...

Exposing.

It always made me feel as though if I was of the colour white, you could see all my flaws and secrets, like the colour can't let you hide anything.

That was why I loved black. It's dark, depressing, mysterious. What I feel like I truly resemble on the inside. But these walls surrounding me were all white. They always had been, for reasons unknown to me.

When I stumbled upon this sanctuary of mine, I found the room just like it was now. All four walls making up a hidden white room. But, despite that, I knew I could use this as my place. My place to... Take care of things.

I thought about painting it over. Covering the white with another colour to hide it from view, but I realized that there was no way to do that discreetly. If I tried to take a bunch of painting supplies from the house, Phil would either catch me, or notice that the stuff was gone. My hands were tied, so I'm left with this.

But over time I've grown used to it, it's almost comforting.

Of course the staining is a bit of a problem. Once in a while I'll end up with pools of thick blood covering the floor and streaks of red littering the walls. The blood that's splattered everywhere is a pain to clean. Sometimes it gets messy, sometimes I can't help it.

I always try to be civilized when I'm doing my job. Make clean cuts, keep in control, don't waste anything.

But sometimes, the cannibal in me takes over.

I can't help but rip their bodies apart and ferociously feed on their skin. Don't stop myself from draining them of their blood and sucking their bones dry. I don't like it when I go crazy, it's not who I am. It's not what I'm trying to be. But nobody's perfect, and you can't always hold it in.

Though, there is one part of my rampages that I don't despise.

The aftermath.

The moment when I look up and see the criminals source of life spattered all around me, the thing that keeps them alive taken away from them is so satisfying. It reminds me of the deed I've done and why it is a necessary evil.

I see myself as a painter. My hands are my brushes, the blood is my paint, and the walls are my canvas.

I'm an artist in a morbid way.

I sighed and brushed my hair out of my face, feeling a wave of exhaustion from my long walk to get here. I checked my phone to read the time. 9:35. I had to leave soon so I could make it back in time. I wanted to avoid suspicion and Phil's questions.

A few minutes, I thought. Then I'll go home.

I wandered over to the other side of the room and sat down heavily, letting my knees give out on me. I sighed loudly, feeling the need to interrupt the complete silence that surrounded me.

I reached into my pocket to retrieve the whiskey. I twisted the lid off again and tipped the bottle up, drinking it all. I felt it burn my entire mouth as it slipped down my throat. I coughed hoarsely, not used to swinging the strong drink. I threw the empty bottle across the room, hoping it would smash, but it disappointingly bounced off the wall and landed on the ground with a thump. I huffed in annoyance.

In the corner of my eye I saw a tiny bit of red on the ground. I looked over to see some droplets of blood, probably from my last kill. It had started to dry up, but was still liquidly.

Instinctively, I leaned over and coated my fingers with the all too familiar substance. I brought it to my lips and licked it all off.

The metallic taste of the blood mixed with that of the strong whiskey I had just drank. They seemed to blend together in my mouth, I liked it. It was different. I made a note to try it again another time.

I felt a chill run up my spine, giving me goosebumps as I sat alone in a room no one knew existed.

Sometimes I wished that I could stay
down here forever, no one would ever find me. I could just live my life in peace, not a soul would disturb me. But I knew I could never do it, I wouldn't be able to handle it.

Loneliness is a feeling I can't avoid, and it would consume me if I stayed here. The loss of my friend would be too much, it would drive me insane.

Well, more then I already am.

But for now I was alone, by myself in the cold white room. So I embraced it for the moment. Letting the cries of all the people I'd killed in this place be my only company...

Sorry for the hiatus, I've been pretty busy lately. But, since my Christmas holidays are soon I'll have lots of time to write, so look forward to that. New update soon :)