Carousel

6. Leaving

A smile pulls at the corner of my lips, and I can't help the chuckle that escapes from them. "Collin..." Asher says, holding his hands up and hesitantly stepping away from me. "What-What are you doing? Why-?" He swallows thickly, quickly glancing down to the ground where the bloody mess that was once Marco lies in ruins. He takes a shuddering breath in, only for it to catch as the strong smell of iron threatens to make him throw up.

I take a slow step forward as the gash in my side continues to bleed. A few more and Asher's back is to the wall. He has nowhere to run. Except through me.

My smile grows and the marks on my wrists and neck grow with it, until my entire forearm and the bottom of my face are covered by them. "Collin, please," Asher says, his voice shaky as his hands lower to the belt where he keeps his knives. "I don't want to fight you." We're only twenty feet apart, and another step brings me even closer. Asher glances around for a way out, but, finding none, quickly returns his gaze to me.

Another step forward. He looks me up and down, frees a knife from it's holster, raises it slightly. Still looks scared.

Another step. Another shuddering breath in. Another glance. Moment of debate. Conflict in his eyes.

Step. A tear falls, tracing its way down his face. A frown that pulls his once joyful expression down into something sorrowful.

Step. He closes his eyes. Lowers the knife.

Defeat. Smiles sadly, tears now flowing freely. "It's okay," he whispers, eyes still closed. "I understand. You'll be okay."

A hand covered in pitch black with pointed fingers reaches up and grabs Asher's throat. Is that my hand? He opens his eyes slowly. "You'll be okay, Collin. I promise." Cuts off his airways. Mouths, 'I forgive you' and becomes blurry as my vision clouds with tears.

I wake up from the nightmare to a silent room, slowly opening my eyes to the darkness of night. I'm curled up on my side, facing the wall, with my back to the other three. I gently lift my hands up from under the covers to wipe at the wetness on my face as I hold back more tears, when I notice something on my wrist.

With the room having no light sources, not even windows, it's hard to make out. But there's a spot slightly darker than the rest of my skin in the shape of a small S with a line through the middle. At first, I think it's just some illusion, but as I watch and it still doesn't move, I start to think otherwise.

Curiously, I reach out to touch it and immediately feel a sharp pain at my temple that is quickly accompanied by a soft buzz. At the very last second, right before my finger disconnects from the strange spot in shock, I hear what almost sounds like voices. But the sudden pain proves too much for my sleepy self, and I fade back into unconsciousness.

A man stands above me, looking down on my four-year-old self with a slightly worried expression. "Cam? Are you alright?" he asks. I shake my head, my vision blurring, and the man reaches down to hoist me up onto his hip. "Oh, baby, don't cry," He reaches up and brushes away the tears with his thumb, walking down the hall as he talks. "Tell me what's wrong."

A small voice, one I recognise as mine, says, "Monsters."

"Monsters can't get you, Cam," the man says, "Do you remember why?"

I nod against his shoulder. "You scare them."

"That's right. I scare away the monsters."

The next time I wake up, it's with a mild headache that's only made worse by confusion. Thoughts spin through my head as I wonder about the unfamiliar man in my dreams and the strange symbol on my wrist. With a sigh, I pull the blankets closer to me, catching sight of where the symbol should have been on my wrist, only to see it gone.