The Drunken Storytellings of a Madman.

Part 5 - Chapter Two - The Stalking Child.

I laid upon my bed, sweat dripping out of my pores, a frightened expression streaked across my face. My hand was pressed against my chest, counting my own heartbeats. One, two... One, two, three, four...One, two, three. It reminded me of the gallop of a horse, frantic and wild, almost incoherent.

The image of that... that thing, it was burnt into my head as if it had been branded into the dark alcoves of my mind. Everywhere I went, that deadly grin, that cold, icy stare and that freakish giggle of his repeatedly echoed about the dark, empty halls of my brain. Bringing turmoil and destruction with whatever came with it.

"I'm just a child looking for someone to play with, and I think I've found my perfect toy."

"Perfect Toy..."

That phrase made my skin crawl, I was merely a plaything to that freak, something to keep him amused. "Sounds familiar," I muttered to myself.

Looking about, I snatched a bottle of scotch from my shelf, I threw off the cap, pressed the bottle against my lips and let the cool, refreshing liquor flood down my mouth. Putting the bottle down, I smiled to myself. It was good to have some sort of escape from reality, from fear, anxiety and depression, and whether for better or for worse. Alcohol seemed to help just fine.

I got up from my bed with a grunt and walked over to the bathroom. The area, like the rest of my house, was a complete and utter mess, in every inch, there was some form of rubbish or another taking refuge upon my residence. It was a miracle that nobody had ever tripped in my house, apart from the fact, of course, I had tripped, many, many times. But despite the obvious hazards that come with having a dump site unloaded onto the inside of your house, I never bothered to clean.

I stared into the mirror, my greasy, blonde hair masking half my face. Brushing it to the side I sighed. "How the hell did I manage to get myself into this situation?" I murmured, "Living every day just doing the same thing over and over, using alcohol as a way to keep my wheels spinning. It's pathetic, but..." I sighed, "It works."