Selfish (warning: Gore)

Selfish (warning: gore)

Knock, knock, knock.

I’m not going to answer it. I already know who it is.

My breathing stopped when I heard a creak of a board. 

I instantly fluttered my eye open and stared up, having to adjust to the darkness bathing the room. 

It takes me a while for my vision to properly adjust, but I see him. He’s looming over me. 

He’s bloody and contorted. Half his face hacked away till bone seeped through. Throat slashed until vocal cords were ruined. His body is mostly bones, his ribcage peeking from that tattered shirt. 

The thick smell of copper and antiseptic filled my senses, overwhelming as they assaulted my nose. 

Blood won’t stop pouring from him. But it doesn’t seem like he cares. In fact, he’s hardly interested in that.

Those empty black voids, where eyes used to be, wouldn’t stop staring at me. Wanting something from me.

When moonlight strayed through the window, I could see a metallic glint. The scissors….its jaws were clean, smelling of antiseptic. It was as if they had never touched flesh. 

But I knew the truth.

He loomed closer, close enough for me to see exposed teeth from hanging flesh. He didn’t care if I was feeling nausea, no, he wanted me to see.  

He’s twisted, he’s malevolent, he’s ugly.

He’s me. 

And he won’t let me forget that.

I can already feel a cold hand firmly grip my wrist. Boney fingers curling around my pulse and nails digging into soft skin. I try ripping my wrist away, which he complies. 

Only for his hands to aim for my neck, squeezing tightly. This causes me to let out a strangled sound while my hands grip his skeletal shoulders and push him away. 

But I’m panicking. I can feel my lungs being stabbed inside of my ribcage. My windpipe can’t handle this. My oxygen levels are depleting. My breathing is raspy and desperate. 

He smiles at me. The blood from his face already marring mine as it splatters down. 

He presses harder, fingers digging in, oxygen leaking out, sight going blurry and-

I wake up with a startled noise. 

The room is bathed in darkness once more. Moonlight leaking onto the floorboards below as the silk curtains sway gently with each passing soft gale. The clock hung up on the wall ticked contently, its tempo steady. 

My breathing was still unsteady, my heart already trying to shoot out of my chest. 

I squeeze my eye shut, my legs curling in and up to my chest. It’s pathetic, but I can’t handle it. 

My right foot brushes on something warm. I can finally smell the scent of something like sandalwood and cigarettes. I can hear the sound of soft breathing. 

I carefully prop myself up with one elbow, turning my head fully to see a sleeping form of a man next to me. His dark hair is messy and his white under shirt slightly wrinkled. His back turned on me while I watched his frame slowly raise and fall. 

After a moment of uncertainty, I shifted closer, the sound of rustling under the heavy soft blanket being heard. I’m about to reach out and just let myself seek comfort, but….

I’m scared. It’s only been five days since we escaped the studio. Everything is still….new, in a way. And when things are new, that means you can easily just screw them up. 

I drop my hand, letting it fall on the mattress beneath the covers. Forget it. 

Just then I heard a creak as the man rolled onto his side, facing me. Half-lidded brown eyes staring at me while a drowsy smile is already forming on perfect lips. 

“Somethin’ the matter, darlin?” He asked, his voice still rough with sleep. A dark strand of hair tickles his forehead. 

I didn't respond at first. But after a few heart beats, I managed to mumble, “It’s nothing. Go back to sleep.”

I hated when his brow arched like that right then and there. 

Suddenly, I felt my body being pulled towards warmth and sandal-wood. My chest met his and my face buried in the crook of his neck. Hair tickling my face. At first, my body’s stiff, but I finally manage to thaw it all off. Letting my leg curl around his and nuzzling in his shoulder. 

I forget that this is all mine. 

“How can I when you’ve gotten so cold?” He asked me, his voice teasing, but having a warm lilt in it. 

I feel him bringing up the covers closer to us, before warm arms cradle my waist. 

“C’mon. I know when somethin’ is goin’ on with ya,” he said gently. His voice is coaxing and sweet.

Damn it. 

I don’t answer, only shifting closer and glancing at the wall behind him.

“Is it your eye again?”

I froze. 

He knew how much I hated my blind spot. How angry I could get when I bumped into something that wasn’t supposed to be there. Or how anxious I would get when I couldn’t see his face when he spoke to me. 

“You can hear me, yeah?” 

….

“Yes,” I mumbled, biting my lip a little.

I felt a pair of soft lips gently brush my forehead. 

“And you can feel me?”

I went quiet, before meekly answering, “Yeah…”

“And you know I’m here.”

I sighed, nodding as I let him cradle my face with his hands, a thumb stroking my scarred cheek carefully. 

I met his gaze in the dark, moonlight shining in those pools of autumn brown. Before I let myself lean in and kiss him. The kiss made something in my stomach flutter, even now as if I was still a young boy. It was comforting and long. Always desired, always welcomed, but….

I wanted to say that it wasn’t my blind spot that was bothering me this time. I wanted to explain about the ghost. I wanted to explain about all the sharp things in my chest and mind that just kept poking and lingering.

Making me so twisted. So malevolent. So ugly. 

But I can’t. 

How could I ruin this? How could I bring that up and dig up old bitter memories for him and I? 

I’m being selfish for wanting him. For loving him. For glaring at folks when they step too close to him. 

But he’s so beautiful. So gracious. So warm. 

And I hate that he loves me. 

I’m going to ruin him. 

But…

I pulled back for air, catching my breath, before kissing him again. My arms wrapped around his neck as I tilted my head. Letting my nose brush against his.

He’s so sweet. So benevolent. So warm.

And all mine.

And I won’t let him go. 

Because I love him too much. I, Hudson Andrew Hendricks, love Raymond Graves. 

Even when I’m decaying under rotting floorboards.