Kappa!
My eyes fly open as the name screams in my head. My clothes are drenched with sweat from the fear of the ever-lingering dream that haunts me. I didn't realise I'd fallen asleep. But evidently, what with Echo's little voice screaming in my ears, I must have done. Bone-chilling fear often does that to me. Once the adrenaline flushes out of my body, I'm overtaken by slumber. Typical.
My eyes flicker over to the window. Darkness. Of course. I've gone and ruined my sleeping patterns for another week with that little stunt of mine. I guess that's what everyone would call 'karma'.
The house is silent. That would make me guess that everyone is asleep. Good. My throat is red raw and I need a drink to soothe it. And I'm not in any mood to come to blows again. Not after last time...
I carefully open the door, making sure not to make a sound as I creep through to the kitchen. For once, being stick-thin has worked to my advantage. No one has the right to tell me that cigarettes are bad for you after today. Keeping me in this scrawny physique has enabled me to tiptoe through a battlefield undetected. If that isn't an accomplishment on the half of the little sticks of nicotine, then I don't know what is.
I miss my own space. It wasn't anything special, mind you. Just a room in a building. I don't need much. Just a bed and a microwave and bog standard kitchen-slash-bathroom stuff. Everything else is what you would call a luxury. And I can do without those. I don't need all these fancy tables and televisions and Playstation things. And I certainly don't need three dangerous men in my vicinity...
Silence is golden. Wherever there is an absence of man-made noise, that's where you'll find me the happiest. Nowadays, that is a very rare occasion. What with the roar of cars, rhythmic thumping of some new hip-hop beat, and the screaming of children as they run riot in the streets, I find it a blessing to just stand in this empty kitchen, alone with my thoughts. Trying to drag back the familiar yet so distant boy from my dreams.
Kappa. Why does your face plaque me as I sleep? What were you to me? If, in fact, you were anything at all. For all I know, you could just be a part of my psyche that is overloading. Or some kind of psychological babble. But despite this, that face looks so familiar. Even though the fear is horrific, his face soothes me. His eyes. I can never tell what colour they are, but I know that they're never going to judge little Echo. Poor little Echo...
A loud crash drags me from my thoughts and I snap my head around. The front door has flown open, revealing two dark figures behind it. One of which has plummeted to the ground with a bang. I push myself backwards, instinctively trying to get away from the new source of danger that's coming my way. Calm down, calm down, calm down...
“Ah shit, Mark! What you doing, man?”
Danny's voice rings through the air, coming from the still-standing figure. That must mean that the crumpled shape on the floor is Mark. I'm not sure whether to feel relieved or even more terrified. A loud laugh erupts from Mark's chest as he lolls about in the doorway, rolling onto his back to stare up at his friend.
“You can't blame me. I tripped and fell down.” His voice is slurred, words merging into one another. Glen's words from this afternoon ring in my ears. Pub. Oh shit...
He's drunk.
“You dozy bastard. You tripped over your own feet."
“They got in my way."
“I knew I shouldn't have let you have that last vodka...Jesus. Get up.”
“But I have a new friend. Mr Planky.” He rolls back over, rubbing his cheek lovingly against the wooden floor. “Hello, Mr Planky. You're my best friend.”
