In My Hands, Know Suffering

21: Up But Not About

You haven't gone out to play for a while, Llone.

Castellone opened his eyes to the voice that spoke. He's been hearing the same hoarseness that echoed back in the radio for months after that night. It began to start up conversations with him that were either abstract or reflected a dark logic. It made him weary.

Even though it was midday, he shifted to his side and tried to go back to sleep. He didn't have the energy to attend the first day of their sophomore year knowing it was pure lecture introductions, orientations and character development for the whole day.

Hey, were you listening to me, Llone?

He tried to ignore it but the voice grew louder.

C'mon, Llone, I'm getting bored here.

He uttered a grunt. "What the hell do you want?"

The voice laughed menacingly. He knew it liked to annoy him, and it was winning. After that, it didn't speak to him for a while. Even if that were the case, he knew the voice would bother him again. It didn't pick a time and place to strike up convenient conversations. It was slowly becoming more aggressive each day that he hasn't ordered anyone to die. He knew it was losing patience.

He noticed something that perhaps affected not only the entity but even him. The longer he didn't command anyone to murder, the weaker he became and the more powerful the voice resonated in his head. It was hungry for death. It covets the living. He dreaded that he was the one guilty because of it.

When he thought the voice has reached its quota for the day, it suddenly spoke to him again. It irritated him further, knowing that he was getting weaker.

Do you know what can make you feel better, Llone?

"Don't fucking talk to me like we're even close." He snarled at the constant mention of his name by a nonphysical entity.

Give her to me, Llone. I've told you many, many times that I want her. And if you gave her to me, the pain will all go away.

The voice laughed again, but it was a laugh that didn't portray a single trace of intelligible glee. Castellone clearly heard it. It was such a fake.

He settled in bed and had a frown on his face at the same nonsense the voice told him. "Who on earth are you talking about?"

Fine. If you don't, then I will.

"You didn't answer the damn question. Who is she?"

I want her.

And there it went with the same thing it uttered repetitively. He'd lost count, and didn't bother tallying it from the beginning either.

"Whatever." Then he stood and decided to head out after changing.

Out? Heading out? You're not going to leave me here, Llone.

When Castellone took hold of the door knob, his vision had blacked out temporarily. There was another image of himself standing right beside him that reflected the same menacing smile he saw before. Back at the wedding.

He was looking at his physical body. He knew it was taken over by the same shadow who often tagged along. Being in his incorporeal state for another time, he was deprived of following his physical body. His soul was thrown to the depths of the darkness that was undocumented by the eyes of the living.

Castellone struggled to be free of the bounds of the darkness, but he was in no position or power to do so. Not even his words could take him away from there. The entity was now inside his physical body.