Page 40 of Shadowface

I remember now, when he saw her in town only a day ago. I jolted awake at the sight of her. My consciousness flooded with memories—his memories. My desperate need for her awakened me, overwhelmed and revived me. That must be why he’s here; he must miss her as much as I do.

When we saw her, I pushed ahead for one second, seizing control of my body before he stopped me.

It was smart. If it were two seconds, there would have been mayhem. There would have been slaughter.

I close my eyes, reliving the memories that haunt me. The memories swirling in my head. The memories I can’t get rid of.

Blood. Tears. Carnage.

Witnessing my mother’s murder.

All the memories that made me realize I couldn’t handle living anymore.

A cool breeze hits my face, reminding me I’m no longer in that slumber. I was happy in the darkness; it was bliss there.

Now she’s awoken the monster.

I move out of the dark corner of her room and step toward her. I watched her for years this way, in the dark periphery of her life. Admiring her beauty while simultaneously dreaming of skinning her.

She likes to sleep in the dark, pitch black, like a baby, with her window open, inviting death inside her room.

She sleeps so soundly and looks peaceful, as if she doesn’t have a care in the world. As if she doesn’t have a fucking conscience because she’s such a fucking liar.

I admire the way her pale face blooms under the small stream of moonlight she captures with her beauty, causing her white hair to shimmer.

She appears frozen, as if there is no air flowing through her lungs. Yet, to me, in her vision of death, she’s never been more beautiful.

A knot forms in my stomach as her lungs expand. I resent her for simply breathing, for merely existing.

With a gentle movement, I lower myself and carefully trace my fingers an inch away from her face. The air is thick between us.

I’m familiar with every curve of her body, every dark expression she thinks no one else notices. For years, we lived in the crevices of her life, in the darkest parts she can’t see. We filled her soul, even if she didn’t realize it, filling her mind with poison.

I reach into my pocket, and a small, sharp object settles into my fingers. I can’t help but play with the blade, maneuvering it.

Blood blurs my vision.

I’ve been sneaking in here since she was young, always knowing deep down that I would eventually kill her. The desire is overpowering, surpassing my love for her. He is the only thing that kept me from slaughtering her.

He is the only reason she wasn’t completely and utterly soiled. He wouldn’t let me touch her until the end.

I relax and breathe, not letting him gain control, even as he tries to push to the front. We have awareness of each other when we confront—we always did. But when he was in full control, everything seemed darker. I was still there, watching as a separate entity, but I was paralyzed. I watched everything he ever did.

The day I went to sleep, I was in full control until that moment I let go, and since then, I have no recollection of anything.

But the sensation is different now. I sense him as if we are one, and I instinctively know what he wants me to do.

He may be stronger, smarter…ancient. But his fascination with her borderlines insanity, even more than mine. Tonight, he must have slipped because I have full control. For the first time in a very long time, I can breathe.

And I really fucking like it.

She takes shallow breaths, making the same sweet whimpers she always makes while asleep.

That moment seems like seconds ago, not the years I suspect have gone by.

I remember it vividly. For an entire hour, I couldn’t take my eyes off her while I was consumed by pain and anguish. After years of simmering anger, I reached a breaking point, and I needed to destroy her.

I covered her mouth and nose with my hand, her body jerking with each passing moment as I withheld oxygen from her lungs. I held it there, stifling those breaths with her body withering beneath me, waiting for her to die.