In the darkness of my mind, all was peaceful. Nothing misplaced or broken or shattered. Just a dark abyss that was nothing but beauty, curiosity and blissfulness. The rare moments I spent with only my thoughts and I were priceless, and I treasured every second of it. I knew my sanity was gone in reality, but during my dreams I was well again with nobody to put me down. As long as I was here, ruling my unconciousness, then the Body-Snatcher that took my physical form would not be able to stay here. Soon, I told it, I will be free. Soon, I said, it would be dead.
I heard people rushing by my metal box of a room, but encouraged my brain to stay sleeping. However, the Body-Snatcher would always awaken and temporarily, I was powerless. Most of my restricted life was confined to vision, seeing through my own eyes but not being able to do anything else. When I was frustrated - which was most days - I'd scream at it. It didn't like that at all. I didn't care. He was not the owner of a mortal body, and was never supposed to be. I would scream for hours, trying to grasp on to what little memory I had of loved ones. Such little memory did I have.
I can remember sunset over rolling hills and endless happiness. There were trees in the distance, clouds hanging low on the horizon. I looked back at my home, a small cottage with a thatched roof and white walls. I was sat on a tartan blanket, with a basket of assorted food. I glanced to my right, surprised that I could see his face clearly. All I stared at were his eyes. They were a timeless blue that shimmered so vibrantly it made my heart race. Of course, I had never seen him in my memory before, but I already knew him. He laughed with such a carefree tone I had to join in. He reached for my hand slowly. I offered it in return, but I was torn from my landscape so my captor could see what awful thing was happening.
I had assumed the white place I had been assigned was an Asylum for the criminally insane. The things it made me do were horrifying. It was obvious no mortal being was occupying the body, but mere mortals never notice such things. As for the awful scene, that wasn't over. I felt pain all over, realizing that it had got itself into a fight. The stupid thing might even let me take over for it, so I feel the pain even more horrifically and it can live a less than normal life afterwards.
The opponent had a butterknife in one hand. He must have got it from the cafeteria, I thought silently to myself. The Body-Snatcher held a syringe, obviously stolen from one of the kind nurses. It was probably the one lying on the floor in his blue scrubs, speaking though his walkie-talkie for help.
It slashed at the scrawny man that was the opposition, hissing in displeasure. He dropped his whole face like a sack of sand. he murmured something that probably made some sense in his own mind and pointed the knife. The Body-Snatcher slashed the syringe throught the air and growled. It circled the poor, deflated man as if its victory was already in sight. I looked into his sad, droopy eyes. There were tears forming and he was whimpering like a helpless puppy. I forced my body to command itself to stop slashing, but it was too strong. I tried screaming, and it wavered. The syringe found its needle in my leg, and I cheered. I embraced the cold darkness as the Body-Snatcher retreated.
I fell back into my world of carelessness, without a worry for anyone but the Body-Snatcher, for I would never let it win. You are going to die, and I will never let you return I told it. Simply, because it was the truth.
