2. Chapter TwoA Chapter by SinbulvinterA look into Frey and Rema's livesWarning: Contains mild blood and gore, descriptions of violence and murder, Drugs/Alcohol Use/References, disturbing character thoughts, and themes and subjects that may upset, disturb, or trigger a sensitive reader. -Frey- I jerked awake in a breathless panic, my hands instinctively checking my body for wounds and blood. I choked on the cold air, fingers rolling into fists as I reminded myself it was only a dream... "Only a memory." The Monster corrected with a dark laugh, its voice echoing in my head, bouncing off the walls of my skull. I hissed at it, cursing myself for falling asleep. I looked around, noticing many of the Drifters were still awake. I blocked out the sounds of their stupid chatter as I grabbed a smoke and shoved the pack back in my pocket. I checked to make sure I still had everything and hadn't been pickpocketed while I slept, relieved to find the small amount of cash and my knife were still on me. I stood from the ground, my back aching from sleeping on the hard pavement. I eyed the strangers cautiously, ready to attack if one of them decided to make a move. I was somewhat used to the looks people gave me, even the homeless bums had the nerve to stare at my scars and make comments. I yanked my hood over my head and started walking, I didn't care where. The Monster fell right back asleep after I woke up, still satisfied after I slaughtered a man the night before. It would leave me alone for a few days, for the most part, before it started demanding blood and death again. And after the nightmare, I was hoping it would hold off on psychologically tormenting me with flashbacks and delusions for at least a day or so. The streets were dark, barely lit by the dim street lamps and the passing cars. It was only getting colder and these winter nights were dropping lower and lower in temperature. Snow laid on the sidewalks, covering the trash that littered them. I shivered as I walked, puffing on the cigarette. The bypassers looked at me like a monster, and maybe I did appear as one to them. They didn't even know me, but just the sight of me made people uneasy " I could tell, and they didn't know it but they had every right to be. I was nothing more than the monster these people saw. I hated their judgmental glances, it made me want to carve out their eyes and skin the flesh off their face. I wanted to cover them with scars just like mine, so they would all become as ugly and monsterous as I was, as ugly as they all were on the inside. "Where are you going, Frey?" The Monster asked, stirring inside its cage. "I don't care." I mumbled under my breath. "Why don't you go back to sleep...?" There was a taunting tone in its voice, it was just trying to get under my skin. "So ya can give me more nightmares? No, f**k off." A demented laugh echoed through my head, "Don't be so rude, Frey. I only want to remind you of how useless you are without me." It said, "You can be so ungrateful at times." I ignored it, continuing to walk. "You owe me your life. Your body. Your Soul. They all belong to me. You'd be dead without me, or worse... Yet, you still ignore and defy me." "I didn't ignore ya yesterday, did I?" "I told you to make him suffer more. You killed him too quickly, not enough blood was shed." I scoffed, shaking my head. "Ain't my fault the f****r bled out faster than I expected." "Excuses... Why don't you kill again? Bloodier this time?" "Thought you'd leave me alone?" It had only been a couple hours since I killed. I couldn't have slept longer than three or four hours, and I killed that man right before I ended up passing out under the bridge. I expected the Monster would leave me alone for a while, but I was learning I was wrong. It was never enough for the Monster. It always wanted more and each day, it's hunger became harder and harder to satisfy. "I'm hungry, tired, and cold. Leave me the f**k alone." I spat harshly, throwing the cigarette butt onto the pavement. "Don't deny me, Brat." The last word struck a nerve in my head, and it had obviously aimed for that nerve. The Monster knew me inside and out, and knew just how to get my blood boiling. A vision flashed before my eyes. Quick and painful. Blood splattered on the walls, screaming prey, and aching wounds. Harsh words were screamed at me, demands and threats, but none of them I could make out. The vision was too fast. I shook my head, looking down to see blood all over my clothes. Quickly, I tried to wipe it away, but as soon as my hands touched my clothes, the illusion vanished and the monster laughed. "Get the f**k outta my head." I growled. "You can make this easy, or hard." My head began to ache, "F**k off, I ain't in the damn mood." "Don't fight me, you ungrateful fool." My vision blurred. I didn't want to fight it, in fact, I actually wanted to butcher someone. I did long for that release nearly as much as the Monster did. I didn't reject the idea of slicing someone into pieces while they screamed and struggled in vain, but my body did. I couldn't keep going like this. I was tired from lack of sleep, I hadn't eaten in days, and the cold made every bone in my body ache. On top of that, the man from the night before had fought back pretty well, and dislocated my shoulder in self defense. I had to pop it back in place myself, and it still hurt like a f****n' b***h. My head pounded, screaming at me like claws were being dragged into my skull, sinking into my brain, and tearing it into pieces. It felt like my eyes were bleeding. My heart was beating so hard on my chest I thought it would stop at any minute. "F**k it." I gave in. I watched from afar, like my body wasn't my own as I found a victim to pull apart. The Monster played me like a puppet, controlling my weakened body to kill for me. I didn't mind, I had a front row seat to the slaughter. I yanked a man behind a building, void of lights or cameras, and smashed him into the brick wall. He shook off the shock rather quickly, cursing at me as he put his hands up to fight. "The f**k's wrong with ya?" He shouted, "F****n' freak, you high? You wanna get your head split open tonight or what?" I laughed under my breath, head tilting as my eyes widened. I flexed my fingers and cracked my neck loud, grinning sadistically at the puzzled look on his face. I dashed toward him, the Monster not bothering to defend me from his punches while I flipped open my blade. I grabbed his face, my nails tearing into the skin as I shoved the blade into his stomach. The pure adrenaline seemed to push the man to keep fighting. Which was good, the Monster liked when they fought back. The stranger shoved me backwards and I pulled him down with me, yanking out the knife to slash at his arm and shoulder. He punched me on the mouth and I spat blood into his face, getting into his eyes. I grabbed his short hair, smashing his face into the ground. I watched as the monster threw him off my body, crawling on hands and knees above him to smash his face into the pavement again. Blood gushed from the split it his head at the first hit, and his teeth were knocked out at the second. I yanked his head back, the Monster admiring it's work. "Does it hurt?" It was my voice that questioned, but it didn't sound like me. The man didn't answer, just coughed up blood onto the ground before I slammed his head down again. His nose broke, and blood spilled onto the cracked cement. I cackled in the demon's voice, repeating the action. "What exactly does death feel like?" I asked, "Is it painful, or are you numb to it? Do you fear death, or welcome it? Tell me... What is it like to know you are dying?" "You're f****n' insane!" The man spat, blood spraying with each slurred word. His fighting had ceased, blood loss taking over mixed with the possible brain damage. I watched as the monster smashed the man's head into the ground over and over, until his face was nothing but blood and gore. Mangled flesh and muscle looking more like battered meat than features. His body had gone limp long before the monster stopped smashing. I regained control of my body, feeling the pain of the struggle hit me all at once. I grimaced slightly and pulled myself to my feet. "Next time don't fight." The Monster growled, "Or I'll let them hurt you before I kill them." I stumbled down the street after stuffing the man's body into a dumpster. I didn't care about the body being found, I knew nothing would come of it and even if the police started actually doing their job and trying to solve murder cases of thug Does, they'd never get anything on me. I'm nothing but a nameless ghost, DNA probably not even in their stupid computers. I was still unsure of exactly where I was headed. I sighed, thinking about the man I just killed. I wondered what death was like. I imagined it as a beautiful black abyss, like an endless, dreamless sleep. Just floating off into nothingness... I was almost jealous of the man I (or the Monster, rather) killed. The idea of death seemed so appealing. Life was meaningless. It always had been. I only existed to suffer and cause suffering, and this world was so ugly and disgusting, I wouldn't mind leaving it. Even if I went to hell, even if I stopped existing all together, it'd be better than living this meaningless, empty life in this useless world full of pathetic people. "So ungrateful." The Monster muttered bitterly. // -Rema- Work was busy tonight, more than most weekends usually were. Orders came in faster than the cooks could take out, and the workload piled up. I rushed all night, enduring the rudeness of the customers who felt they waited too long for their meals and the harsh orders from the cooks to hurry my a*s up. I felt like I was on the verge of a panic attack the whole night. This dead end job was beginning to wear me out. It was the only place that'd hire me, but waitress jobs paid next to nothing. Money was so rough, I had to get a roommate to afford the rent and I hardly ever felt independent anymore. I punched out, ignoring the glances of a*****e coworkers who'd look at me like I was nothing but a piece of meat. Those kind of looks always made me insecure, and I never needed much help with that. I had to admit I hated my job and my coworkers. The men were pigs and the women were stuck up, and I was no good at making friends and fitting in. I drove home and threw my bag on the sofa, my coat joining it before I headed straight for the kitchen fridge. I grab a bottle of whiskey out, drinking straight from the bottle as I flop down on the sofa and reach for the TV remote. The background sound drowns out my thoughts and the booze drowns out my emotions. I focus on fake reality to escape from my real one. Kacia comes home from the club late, stumbling through the living room loud enough to wake me from my drunken slumber. I rub my eyes and greet her groggily as she nearly falls to sit in the living room chair. "How was work?" She asks, letting her hair down as she kicks off her heeled shoes. "Busy." I replied, "You have fun at the bar?" She waved her hand at me, shrugging while she giggled slightly. "Same s**t, different night, you know how it goes. A couple cute guys there though, they were happy to share some pretty strong pills with me, so all and all it wasn't so bad." She sighed, "Can you make some coffee?" I glanced at my phone, seeing it was near Four Am. "Sure... Then I'm going back to sleep. Can you pour it yourself?" She laughed, "I hope!" For someone in her mid-twenties, she should have been out of the party phase, but Kacia never strayed from it. Most women like her got under my skin, and I never liked immaturity, but I had known Kacia since high school and she was all I had after my husband died and my Family shunned me. Despite being childish and rather obnoxious, she was a good friend... Most of the time. She was also rather dense, which served me well. She had no idea of the things I did, no idea of the blood on my hands. There were a few times I nearly slipped up, but she was always too drunk or high to really pay much mind. If she had any idea of the type of person I was, I was sure she'd hate me. I brewed her coffee and went to bed, dreading the hangover the next morning. I woke up with the urge to puke, running to the bathroom and barely able to hold my hair back before I emptied my stomach into the toilet. My throat burned and I spit, trying to get the disgusting taste out of my mouth. I threw up again, now really regretting drinking half of that bottle of Jack the night before. My eyes blurred with unshed tears as I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, hoping my stomach would settle... Now I was the one who needed coffee. I slept in until Eleven, not surprised to see Kacia was fast asleep on the sofa. I covered her with a blanket and went into the kitchen to start the coffee and make a couple pieces of buttered toast, eating slowly in hopes it wouldn't come right back out of me. My phone rang and I jumped, answering it when I saw Zekk's name on the caller ID. "Hey, been tryin' to reach you girl." He said, his voice a bit concerned. "You okay?" "Yeah..." I said, "Fell asleep early last night..." I heard him make a noise of understanding, silence lingering for a moment before he spoke up again. "I took care of it, by the way." He said, sounding somewhat empty. "Thanks." I whispered. "What happened exactly?" I ran my hand through my hair, rubbing my throbbing head with my fingers. "I don't know... I panicked... Thought the guy was following me..." "Thought he was or he was..." I shrugged as if he could see me, "I don't know." He sighed through the phone, "Rema, it's been over a year now... With the flashbacks still as serious as they are... Maybe you should get some help..." He tested the water, his tone gentle. "You gotta understand, not every guy is tryin' to hurt you, girl." I chewed on my lip, my heart aching in my chest. "I know... It's just... Sometimes I have trouble remembering." "That's what I mean... You need somebody with professional training to talk to you about this s**t..." I exhaled heavily. "I don't want a shrink." I heard him repeat a similar sound, "I know... I just... I'm tryin' to help, that's all girl." The conversation got awkward, and I let him go. Zekk was one of the only people who was truly there for me, and was the only one who had any idea of the type of things I actually did. After the first time I took a life, I called him and he's been the one who gets rid of the bodies for me. Zekk is what some people would call "Shady" or even refer to as a criminal, and he was. Growing up in this messed up city forces people to resort to lives of crime and gangs to survive, and he's no different. Despite being a gang member, he has always helped me when I needed him and been there for me, especially after my husband died. It was hard to keep a mask up all the time, so it was good to have at least one person who understood me. This was a lonely life, and I lived with regret and shame constantly... It felt like the world was on my shoulders and no matter what I did I couldn't get rid of that weight " I couldn't stop doing these horrible things. It made me sick to smile and shake someone's hand with the same hand I used to murder a person. I hated it, hated myself for it, but I couldn't stop... It became an addiction.
© 2017 SinbulvinterAuthor's Note
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StatsAuthorSinbulvinterEphrata, PAAboutI am a Twenty-Five year old Writer and Mother of a Two Year Old Daughter and pregnant with a little boy on the way! I am a shaman, too empathetic for my own good, and a Major Horror Junkie who is obs.. more..Writing
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