I’m nothing.

Have you ever seen a black figure in the darkness of the night? Maybe you’ve catch a glimpse of a shadow moving just by the corner of your eye. You try looking at it, hoping to make something out of it. But just as you look at it, he looks at you too.

​

It’s almost midnight. The moon bathes my room with a holy white light.

There’s no sound. Just silence. A heavy, slow silence that engulfs my room. I can feel my body being swallowed by it. This should be the perfect atmosphere to sleep, to rest, to dream.

At least it was before.

​

It all started about a month ago.

I was laying in bed, with my covers pulled up to my chest. The night was neither warm or cold. It was the right temperature. The exact temperature. The perfect temperature. A peaceful silence roamed in the streets and made its way into my room. The night was perfect, but I couldn’t fall asleep.

Time went on, hours passed, but I was wide awake. I didn’t know what was wrong, everything felt right. Too right.

I tried looking around, but there was nothing interesting to see. Nothing outside the window. Nothing in my room. Nothing at all. I noticed that the door to the hallway was open. I found it weird since I always close it before going to sleep, but didn’t give it too much thought. I tried looking out in the hallway, trying to find something. Hoping to find something.

And I did.

​

Merging with the shadows, a black figure stood by my door, in silence. It looked like a tall man, and he was staring. Staring right at me. But there were no eyes staring. Actually, there was nothing. Yet I could feel him stare directly at my soul.

How long was he there? How could I have not noticed him? These and other thoughts rushed in my mind. I felt a jolt of electricity run throughout my spine, making its way to my limbs. I tried to cry, to scream, to move, but my body was dead. I couldn’t feel anything. I couldn’t hear anything. All I could see was the black figure staring at me. He didn’t move an inch. Didn’t make a sound. Nothing.

​

I was terrified.

Terrified because I knew nothing. Terrified because I felt nothing. Terrified because I was nothing.

Then I passed out.

​

I woke up the next morning, with cold sweat all over my body. I tried to recollect the events of last night and looked over to my door.

Nothing.

I looked down and found two black markings on the floor. They were almost fading out.

Footsteps. Only two of them right under my doorway. I looked at the door again and found the shape of a fading black hand printed next to the doorknob.

I blinked.

They were gone.

I thought that I was going crazy. Who wouldn’t? I convinced myself that it was just a nightmare. At least I tried. I really tried. But ever since that day, no matter where I go, he’s there. He’s watching me from the distance.

I can only see him with the corner of my eye. If I look for him, he’s gone. Sometimes he would appear right in front of my face only to vanish immediately.

I tried forgetting about everything. God knows I did.

I tried distracting my mind, but at night, I’m alone.

I’m defenseless.

I’m nothing.

​

At night I can’t sleep, because I know he’s watching me. I can feel his gaze pierce through my body and stab my soul. He just watches. Only watches, never moves. I look at him but he’s nothing. I’m nothing.

Last night something unexpected happened. For the first time in almost a month he wasn’t there. He didn’t came. You think I would feel relieved by this sudden change of events. Was it over? Was I free?

But it terrified me.

If I can see him, if I know where he is, I can look at him the same way he looks at me until he goes away. But if he’s not there, if I can’t see him, then he’s free. Free to do whatever he wants with my helpless body.

I laid in my bed motionless. Waiting for him to come. Watching closely at my door. At the darkness.

But he never came.

​

After hours of fear and paranoia I finally dozed off.

As I was opening my eyes in the morning, hoping to see the first rays of sunlight, all I could find was darkness. Black. All black. I wasn’t in my room anymore. I was nowhere. Alone. There was nothing.

Then, as a miracle, I was back in my room again.

​

I spent the whole day sick. Unable to do much besides eat, sleep, and shit. I felt like garbage. I was just a waste of skin at that point. My skin was pale. My eyes bloodshot. I was shaking.

I tried looking at my reflection in the mirror, but what stared back at me wasn’t me. There I stood, looking at a corpse trying to figure out what was wrong with its reflection. I was a no better than a ghoul at this point.

​

The night came.

Once again I’m in bed, waiting for something to happen. He’s back. He’s here. He’s at my door, staring at me. I am at my bed, staring at him.

A minute goes by, and he moves. He has never moved, never.

For a whole month, all he did was stare, nothing more, nothing less.

He slowly makes his way towards my bed, knowing that I can’t do anything. That I’m helpless. That I’m nothing.

Then I see him, slouching over me. I can’t move. I can’t scream. I can’t do anything. In the end, I’m nothing. But he... he’s something.

​

I can now see him clearly now.

He’s beautiful, and he’s not. He looks human, but he is not. He’s something, and yet he’s not.

He puts his hand over my chest, slowly tearing my shirt apart. I can see his fingers puncture my skin, crush my bones, and reach my heart. He begins to pull it out slowly, smoothly, careful not to damage it. Like a surgeon showing of his skills mid-surgery. Then, before my eyes, he crushes it. He throws it away like a crumpled piece of paper to the floor. Blood is oozing of my body, but I’m still alive. His finger draws a red line all over my skin. I am canvas at this point. I had become a piece of art. His piece of art.

(I can feel everything.)

He reaches for fingertips.

(I can’t move.)

He grabs my nails.

(I can’t die.)

Then he pulls.

(I want to die.)

​

One by one, he rips my nails away, like a child would rip dead leaves on a tree.

He looks at me. He looks at my eyes. But I can’t look at him. Not anymore. All I can see are his fingers.

Then black.

Nothing. There’s nothing. Only an excruciating pain where my corneas used to be.

I can feel as he tears my body apart, piece by piece, leaving no spot free of pain.

He’s enjoying it. I can feel it.

Hours went by. My pain only grew with the second. I was in hell, I was sure of it. I couldn’t die. I couldn’t do anything. Not even cry.

Then at last, after what felt like an eternity to me, I’m free. There’s nothing. I’m nothing.

​

The night carries on.

The moon keeps on shining. The silence keeps on consuming everything.

He keeps on watching. Staring at nothing. Being nothing. He’s nothing. I’m nothing.

But you, you’re something.

He knows that.

I know that.

But don’t worry, soon you’ll be nothing too. He’s there. He watches. He looks at you now. He is always looking.

All you have to do is look back.

Submitted March 11, 2019 at 07:51AM by Bryan_SAM99 https://ift.tt/2Hd6dXt