The Power of a Name

Part 14

He could remember the first time he woke up with it sharing his headspace.

His father was its host for a long time. Many times, he wondered if he had ever actually known his father or if he'd only met the thing inside him.

It was terrifying watching the blackness spread across his palms, coalescing into letters. He knew his letters, but he was still learning to read, he had no idea what they said.

A name was spoken quietly, and he was gone. It was there.

He didn't know how long it was before he came back to himself, but in that moment, he wished he hadn't. Everything hurt, even breathing, as he sat up. He couldn't stop the tears that leaked form his eyes. He hastily wiped his cheeks but that only made his face slimy.

He looked at his hands and froze, he couldn't even scream. They were covered in blood half-way to his elbows.

What are you doing! An angry voice sounded.

He startled, head whipping around to find the source. "Hello?"

He felt something push at him, but he was alone in the room, it came from within.

"Who are you?" he was still trying to find someone else in the room.

As if I'd tell you. I just finished cleaning up that mess. His eyes were drawn to his bloody hands.

"You killed people?" his voice distressed.

How else do you silence them forever?

He felt sick. "Go away, please."

The pressure increased, his hands hit the floor as he doubled over. "Stop! Please." The last part coming out a whimper.

Let me back out.

"I don't understand."

I don't care. It pushed harder and everything went black.

The second time he woke up there was less pain. The blood was dry and starting to flake off his hands. He was terrified to find out what the thing had done this time, but he was in the same place as before.

This time he could feel it more clearly defined inside his head. "That was mean."

He could sense the anger roiling off the thing.

"Where's my dad?"

Where do you think? He's gone.

"No," he shook his head. "Dad wouldn't leave me alone."

He didn't.

"He wouldn't leave me with you either!" he cried.

Whatever makes you feel better, kid.

He had cried for a long time after that.

This time he came slowly back to himself. First as a spectator to events he didn't understand. The little girl was with him? Why was one of the men on the ground? His limbs felt heavy, even as they moved. Was that blood? He came in and out, each time a little longer, each time his limbs a little lighter.

He finally came around, his hand holding a knife to the client's throat. With a sudden pull he stopped it from killing the client, blade only cutting skin deep.

"You're lucky," he heard his own voice say. "but if you ever come after us or use her name, make no mistake, I will kill you." It pressed the knife a little harder for emphasis before releasing the client and walking away.

It was strange to feel like a passenger in his own body. Is this what the others felt like all the time? He was regaining control over his body, but let it continue to run the show; he had no idea what was going on. A smaller hand found his and he looked down to see the little girl holding his hand.

"She's with us now," it explained using his own voice.

She smiled up at him.

This should be interesting.

***Author's Note***

This one ended up longer than usual!

What do you think about their shared past?

If you liked it don't forget to comment and vote :)