Time to Say Goodbye. (Short Story)

Time to Say Goodbye.

It was a terrible night- yes, an awful night indeed. I woke up, I was in a barren room that had only a bed and a single door. My surroundings were unfamiliar, and the tips of my fingers were red from frostbite. You see it was a cold night, there was a light layer of snow that formed a carpet on the ground and an odd moonlight was shining through the metal bars of the open window. A dark shape flickered across the window. Now that I thought about it, everything seemed unfamiliar. I tried remembering why I was here but upon trying to recollect, I found myself at a lost. Gah! Why couldn't I remember? I tried to think of something, anything, but nothing came to my mind. It was blank, empty, desolate. It felt like an eternal void as I couldn't seem to recall anything from my past. Do you know how it feels to not even know your own name? It was terrifying! My sense of identity was lost, I didn't know who I was, and I still don't know who I am. I could be a psychopath or maybe even a murderer for all I know. I don't want to be a murderer.

Whilst in the middle of my identity crisis I heard a sound, it sounded like the creak of a door and incoming footsteps, I looked up. There was an ominous silhouette. I screamed. Oh no! Oh no! There's someone here to kill me and upon instinct I whipped around and pulled out a switchblade that I didn't know I had and prepared for the incoming attack. Then I heard a squeak, I looked down at the floor in front of me and there sat a grey rat squeaking and making other inhuman noises. I looked back up; the silhouette wasn't there anymore. At first, I felt relieved, but then I was even more terrified, how did I mistake a rat for a human coming to kill me? I'm delusional, I'm crazy! Only a madman would experience delusions such as this. What if I'm a madman? I looked down at my black-stained trembling hands and saw that I was holding a sharp blade that gleamed in the ray of moonlight. The realization that I had pulled out a blade to presumably stab someone only further reinforced my idea that I was indeed insane. Unbeknownst to me, the hidden silhouette smiled at this. I was more terrified of myself now then whatever was out there beyond the door. Maybe I should just stay in here, that way I wouldn't hurt anybody. I pondered this thought for awhile. I concluded that I can't do that, although in this moment of hysteria I didn't want to leave, I realized I can't just stay here alone without any sort of idea of who I am. I decided I'll just stay away from other people, that way I can't hurt anybody. The thought of hurting someone else made me want to vomit. With newfound confidence, I slowly opened the door and took a step out of the cold place I woke up in...

I opened the door and stepped in the old house. "Boy, this corridor is freezing. Why doesn't he ever fill the wood fireplace?" I shivered. I went to my room that consisted of an old bed and that's pretty much it. I tried lighting a candle but the icy wind from the open window blew it out. He never lets me close my window, so my fingertips are permanently red for about half the year. I finally gave up trying to get some light and walked back into the corridor to make my way into the living room. I was so cold that I was almost tempted to ask him if I could fill the fireplace. No, I couldn't do that, what if he got mad? He always got mad when I asked him stuff. I finally decided that I would go and ask him, I couldn't take this any longer. But before I could make my way to the living room, he found his way to me. His dark shadow loomed over me as I stared in fear. "What do you think you are staring at?" He said in rage. I didn't know what I did to make him this angry so in a panic I tried running away but he caught me. He went to punch me square in the face. I ducked and he ended up breaking the mirror that was behind me. He howled as glass was embedded into his knuckles. He went for another punch and this time he hit me in my left eye.

...On the other side of the door resided a corridor, it was dark and seemed to go on for miles. There was a broken mirror, I took a step forward to look at myself and the floorboards creaked, and I cringed to myself. Once I got close enough, I saw myself, I looked to be about 15-16, I had mousy brown hair, and striking grey eyes. One would say that I was quite a handsome fellow except for the cuts on my face, the black eye, the just recently scabbed over wound down my side and the bruises that scattered across my arms. I looked like a train hit me, but little did I know, I'd been through something much worse. Trying to get the image of my broken body out of mind I decided to keep on walking but just as I went to take a step, I heard fast footsteps coming towards me, I ran for my life. While I was running, I looked behind me, there dark silhouette was chasing me. After my last episode, I couldn't tell if this was actually real or not, but I was too afraid to find out. I ran and I ran and after what seemed like hours of running, I entered another room and slammed the door behind me. "I think I lost him." This room, unlike the corridor, was faintly lit up by a single candle on an old Victorian era table. The walls had old floral wallpaper that was peeling off and there was an old carpet that was splattered with blood laying across the floor. Something about this room felt odd, even more eerie than the rest of this place. I noticed a bottle of ink which happened to be the same colour that stained my hands, and scattered papers on the table. Slowly I made my way to the ominous table and picked up the papers. They looked like messed up drawings. I flipped through them and my theory was correct, they were drawings of a dark shape looming over a boy crying alone in the corner...

I was crying, tears flooded my vision, I was frantically running away from him. I found an empty room, quickly I ran in and hid in the very corner. I looked at my side, it was bloody and grotesque. I pulled out the blade and tried my hardest not to scream. Once it was finally out, I noticed it was a switchblade. I put it in my pocket as I couldn't bare to see it any longer. I quickly grabbed an old rag from the floor and wrapped it around my wounded torso. I could handle pain; I've been hit plenty of times before and I've got the bruises to prove it, but this was the worst one yet. I was breathing heavily, trying to recover from what just happened. I grabbed the paper and ink that I hid under an old floorboard and dipped my fingers in the ink. I started drawing, pleading for help. Maybe someone would find these and save me. I was about to throw my drawings out the window and to the outside world when I heard him. "Oh, you're so naive, you think you could get away? From me?" I set them on the table and tried to find an escape route. The footsteps were getting louder. I hysterically looked around there was nowhere to go. I stayed quiet, maybe if I didn't make a noise, he wouldn't find me. During my panic I didn't hear the door open and at this moment I felt hands on my shoulders, and as a flight or fight reaction, I went to pull out my switchblade and then everything went black.

...I dropped the drawings and they slowly fell to the floor. My head hurt so badly, what was that? I was terrified and my hands trembled once more. I had some sort of flashback and I was confused out of my mind; did this mean that I drew those drawings? That cant be right, there's no way that that could have been me. Is there? I mean it would explain my stained hands but no, that wasn't me. I don't know why but for some reason I couldn't accept the possibility of that poor boy being me. Maybe I was just too scared to actually remember, or maybe I wasn't ready yet. I tried to shake that awful feeling away as left the room and continued walking down the cold corridor. I found the door to another room and I went to open it, but it was locked. I tried shaking the doorknob, but it wouldn't budge. I heard a laugh from behind me, so I turned around and right at this moment, I felt something sharp stab my shoulder. I yelped at the searing pain and looked up to see the silhouette running at me.

I ran as fast as I could. I needed to get away from him. Although I've hallucinated before, this felt way too real that there was no possible way I could have imagined it. My shoulder stung as a dark red liquid leaked out of it. I pulled the throwing knife outside of my shoulder and I thought back to my flashback. I was most definitely in the middle of an adrenaline rush for I did not feel anything. Fear flowed through my veins as I heard the footsteps get closer and closer and the cackling getting louder and louder. I kept running through the maze of hallways in this old house and then I found a door, it was grand, and it most definitely had to be the way out of this wretched place. I threw it open only to find a vacant room; no furniture, no lights, no escape. I flung my back against the wall. This was the end of me, I had nowhere to go and he was getting closer and closer and closer. Too close, I don't want to die yet, please don't let me die. My heart palpitated and I was sweating profusely when I saw it- the silhouette of the man. He slowly walked toward me with a needle in his right hand, I wanted to scream at him to go away, but I was so paralyzed in fear that I couldn't even do that. I couldn't move at all. Then he got just close enough that I could vaguely make out his face and my eyes went wide. Seeing his face made all the memories come flooding back; It hurt so much but now I remembered who he was. Before I could even think about what was about to happen, he chuckled, and I heard him say one single sentence before everything went black. "Time to say goodbye."

The sky was blue, and fluffy white clouds drifted by, I looked around and all I could see for miles was the wheat field I found myself in. I looked down at my hands expecting to see them stained like earlier but instead they were clean, and my wounds seemed to be gone as well. When I looked back up, I saw someone standing staring at the sun in one direction and a gate in the other. I could stay here in this peaceful place but something inside me told me to talk to the person. I walked toward them and tried asking where we were but there was no response. When I finally made my way towards them, I tapped them on the shoulder. They turned around and I realized it was me, but my eyes were pitch black and tears were rolling down my cheeks. I looked down and saw his body was littered with bruises and cuts and the peacefulness I felt earlier was drained away and a pain shot through my body. Everything was gone. I stared at the other me for a second and then I fell into what seemed like an endless black void until I hit my head on a cold floor.

I woke up once again, I was in a barren room that had only a bed and a single door. My surroundings were unfamiliar, and the tips of my fingers were red from frostbite...

The end.