Things Better Left In The Dark

Walk The Line

Standing at the edge, the wind pushing against his back ever so harshly. Enough to make his balance slightly unsteady. The hard concrete beneath his exposed feet was freezing, bone chilling. The cold air around him did not affect him, even though his skin was exposed on his arms. Sounds of the rushing city below him bring a sort of comfort. From 70 stories up the world looks small, as if the people below him are only ants on a farm. His once bright blue eyes are blurred over to a white dead look, staring out into the distance disconnected from the world.

Slowly he moved his feet closer to the edge until just the back half were are on the concrete. Deacon paused momentarily, as if the empty human was trying to regain consciousness. Though it did not last long. His body began to shift the weight, tipping slowly over the edge. The ground below him awaited the impact ready to fold up around him and take him into the earth.

—————————————

Deacon rolled over on his back, the tired eyes looking up at the popcorn ceiling. Sunlight trickled in from behind the curtains kissing his paper white skin. The whispers began to die down almost as if they were aware of the new coming day. Sitting up Deacon stretched out his arm hearing a pop in his back. Slowly he slipped out of bed and slunk into the bathroom, the bottoms of his feet stretching out with each step he took. As he stepped into the bathroom the image of himself reflected on the wide mirror. Deacon leaned against the counter top getting close to the glass examining himself. After another sleepless night the dark circles under his eyes only looked darker on his oh so pale skin.

His curled brown hair a bit of a mess from tossing and turning in the bed, and the many freckles that scattered his face and his whole body. Inhaling deeply he stepped away from the counter and removed his shirt. His frame was small as the fat and muscle on his body was very little. His slouched posture showed his protruding spine, the skin stretching tightly. The bones on his body exposed themself more today then normal. Reaching up Deacon traced his collar bone slowly before pausing. His eyes darted to the very corner of the mirror, in the crack of the door. A figure tall, dark, with bright white eyes stood behind the it only showing enough to make itself known.

Breathing rather quickly Deacon closed his eyes tightly counting down from 10. At 1 he opened his eyes and looked back over to the door expecting to still see the other that occupied his home. Only it was empty, just a cracked door open to an empty room. Exhaling sharply Deacon shut the door and locked it before walking to the shower and turning it on.

"Deacon..."

"Stop." he spoke out ticking his head quickly to the side as if pushing something away.

Sitting at the kitchen table, his hair sopping wet, clinging to his forehead Deacon looked at the cup of water that sat ever so still on the table. The water from his hair slowly dripped down his face dropping onto his jeans. The pill bottle that sat next to the cup intimidated the man. His right finger tips rested on the very edge of the table, his left hand limp in his lap. "Clozapine. Take with meal once a day." the label on the bottle commanded, yet Deacon sat staring blanking at the half empty cup of water.

The longer he sat the more the pair sitting on the table angered him. His jaw clenched tightly as his once limp left hand balled into a fist. Deacon shook ever so slightly, his eyes not once moving. The water in the cup began to ripple, the way it would if something was shaking the ground. It shook slowly at first, then more violently the longer Deacon stared at it. Within seconds the glass flew from the table and shattered against the far wall, pieces scattering along the floor.

Knitting his eyebrows together Deacon sat up blinking a few time and relaxing his body from the tense posture it was in moments before. His head turned towards the direction of the now wet floor. Looking over to the entry way of the kitchen his eyes met with those from the bathroom before. White piercing eyes, shadowed figure hidden in the darkness of the far end living room. A smile, stretching out across the face of the being too wide to be human just grinning at the man who sat in the kitchen all alone.