Loneliness

His aura, his attitude, the mystery and rumors that surrounded him all told me to stay away. But something was off about what people said about him. I realised it that day, the day I saw those eyes. His eyes were striking, his gaze painful and crazy at once, the feeling of being stabbed over and over and over again. I had never ever seen his eyes before.

His eyes, those deep, dark brown eyes, the luring attaraction that was becoming addictive. The more I tried to forget them the more I was overwhelmed by my memory of them. The sting of being cut and bled over and over again, as the knife is pushed further in and turned, then ripped out and stabbed in again.

This time with a blunt one instead. The knife wouldn’t break through the skin easily as it was pushed in with force, each layer of skin was torn in a rippling effect. The knife finally clawed through the last layer and blood. The air smelled of it, so thick it chocked anyone in a hundred metre distance of the room. The black of the night couldn’t hide its dark burgundy glow, sleek and slithering as it pool around me. I fell to my knees, the pain of cracking bone sharply ran up my leg, to my heart, then to my brain. It gushed out like a thundering water in a waterfall. But the pain of the blunt knife didn’t stop there, the knife broke my lower ribs and came out of my back. The bulging piece of sliver metal, was then ripped back out slowly.

His eyes showed pain only that could only be described by death. I could feel it, the pain eminating off him as the rest of the this scene that had started with his eyes, played out in my head.

I screamed, my head banging, my body burning, shaking, my eyes had black spots come and go. The burning and ripping pain, agonizing all the nerves in my body. My head hit the floor but the torturingly, impaling pain, didn’t go away, rather it increased with every milli-second. The painful sensation of bone breaking and piercing the lungs, breathing heavy and haggard.

This was the pain he faced all the time and everything but his eyes hid it. His eyes were filled to the brim with that pain, but he enjoyed it. In his eyes, along with that agonizing pain he showed the enjoyment the pain brought, like he deserved it. It looked so natural in him, like it was normal to be tortured and love the torment that came with it. I could feel a pyschopathic and unbalanced aura radiating off him in huge vibrating waves. But no one else could see any of it as he hid it well behind his mask. But it was brimming right under that thin layer . Everyday there were more and more cracks in his mask, he started to show little by little the excruciating agony he lived in every moment of everyday.