What do you want with me?

The Confessions

*Deep breath.*

The fury grew within him, conjuring a fire inside him that boiled and burnt with every breath. It gurgled and scorched like acid.

Samantha glared at him intently. Unafraid. Fearless. She knew that he could potentially harm her but that didn't stop her. She awaited patiently. She was there for her client. That was commitment in its rawest form.

Everything heightened. Every breath sounded like thunder, every whisk of wind splintered his harsh skin. His eyes were sore and strained for sight. He wanted help, he needed it. The fury gurgled up in his throat causing his breathing to fasten pace as he was loosing air, his urge rushing back in. "UGGGH!" It agonized him. His good intentions caused him pain and suffering. He clearly didn't want to hurt her.

She still sat there studying his actions. He looked at her face. Expressionless. He focused on her eyes. Her beady, ochre eyes, plain but intriguing. She blinked, her long, dark eyelashes batting against her sandy skin. Everything started spinning in the room, he felt nauseous. He tried to concentrate on one thing, but it was extremely hard considering everything was spinning. Spinning just like his life. Spinning out of control.

It stopped...

Everything still. The compulsion had gone. Samantha and Marc shared a stare. A long meaningful stare of thankfulness and gratitude. A glistening trickle of water squirmed down his face.

4 hours later.

Darkness. "Hello." Marc called out, confused and distressed. Faces popping through screaming at him.

"KILL HER!"

"DO THE DEED. SHE JUST WANTS TO USE YOU!"

They kept shouting louder and louder, , his hands gripped round his ears, was collapsed on the floor, curled into a ball and rocking back and forth. A rusty, thick metal cage toppled over him. His bleeding hands clutched onto the bars; scratching at them, pulling them, trying to break free.

A man came forward from the darkness a mist formed around him. His head held low. Pure white but blood drenched his clothes and hands. He was mumbling under his breath. The mumble turned into a loud whisper as he approached the cage. Marc stared up in confusion, trying to make sense of the words he was saying. The mans slender arms held out in front of him; inspecting his hands. "What did you do!" The man was properly talking now.

"Pardon?" Marc questioned. Feeling accused and baffled. "WHAT DID YOU DO!" He was shouting now, hands trembling, charging towards the cage. Marc jumped back, sprawled out on the floor. The man, still looking down, supported his malnourished body by grabbing onto the bars. "What did you do!" He was mumbling again. Marc shifted across the hard concrete floor, edging closer to the man in awe.

Silence struck the dark place like a flash of lightning.

"WHAT DID YOU DO!" The man was screaming profusely, reaching through the bars, rasping at Marc. He screeched in trepidation. The man halted once more. His head slowly lifted up. Marc looked at him in utter horror. For there peering back at him, with a vile, sinister grin on his face, was..... him.

His black, rotting teeth and the fact he had barely any hair, suggested to Marc that it was the future him. Disgust wavered over his face, he went to grab the 'fake him', when suddenly the 'fake him' did the exact same thing. Marc stopped. He waved and so did the man. It was like a mirror image. Marc staggered backwards, lost for words, or actions. His breath was shaky and fast pace. He curled up in the corner of the cage and started bellowing "GET OUT OF MY HEAD!" He kept repeating these words whilst repeatedly smacking himself in the head. Everything started spinning again. Every word echoed through the dark abyss.

It all stopped...

The man had gone. Marc was once again alone. Lonely. Scared. He gazed around, the cage was still stood firm around him, but other than that it was just him. Swallowed in a black hole of misery. Unable to escape.

"WHAT DID YOU DO!" The man was right up in his face now; nails digging into Marc's skin as he ripped his hands down his face. Marc fought to escape his grasp but failed miserably. Fighting against yourself isn't easy.

He woke. Sweat showering down his face. He jumped up and his eyes scanned the room ensuring that no one was there. His hand swept across his face in relief, as he slumped himself back on his bed, pondering about the dream he had just experienced. He lay back down hesitantly, still shook from the dream. A crash came from the kitchen. Anxiety churned in Marc's stomach as he heard the crash. He felt nauseous and froze in terror. Scared to even breathe.

After much contemplation, Marc finally plucked up the courage and reluctantly, staggered towards the kitchen. His heart was racing as he peered around the wall. A shadow stood in the middle of the kitchen. He fell backwards, squeezing his mouth shut to quieten his breathing. Marc was not a religious man, but at times like these he would do anything, for a chance to ensure his safety. He dropped his torch he was gripping onto and it rolled across the floor. *Oh shit.*

The floorboards creaked and wailed as the shadow slowly stepped closer to Marc...