Acceptance
Lukas lay in bed, imagery off both his mother's and the granny's bodies flashing back and forth.
Forget it. Forget it! Why couldn't he forget it?
Lukas clambered off his bed and sat at his table in blank despair. His hand held a pencil but nothing would properly translate onto the paper.
The rubber shavings grew.
The paper became more worn, more torn, more... unusable.
His hand began to shake.
[You haven't forgotten me, have you?]
A grating voice echoed in the depths of Lukas's mind.
[Your smile, it revolts me.]
[You had fun didn't you?]
[That girl, those boys.]
[It was different wasn't it?]
[They didn't know who you were. They didn't care who you were. They only liked you for being you.]
[It was fun, wasn't it?]
Pause
[You used them.]
"No-"
[Used them to forget about what you had done.]
[You thought your sins could disappear, or, at least, be forgotten. But no. The souls of the fallen screams your name. You will never escape.]
Lukas shook his head frantically, his slender fingers grasping at his own hair.
[You dare struggle against me?]
The voice became mocking.
[You silly disobedient child. Remember how I helped you? Helped you endure? Remember those men?]
The voice drew the memories of long ago for Lukas.
[Remember how you screamed back then? 'Mother! Mother!']
"Stop-" Lukas's voice cracked. Clear droplets rolled down his cheek silently.
It laughed horribly.
[Well, your mummy was dead.]
[You knew your daddy wouldn't come for you. You knew. That's why you didn't call for him. I know. I know everything. You let yourself be cut. Punched. Kicked. Tortured.]
The voice paused.
[Until I came.]
There was a long silence. The pencil stilled. Then it moved into action again.
[I will never go away.]
A crawling sensation snaked up his arm.
[Who helped you pick up that knife?]
[Who helped you paint your first masterpiece? What was it again? Ah, yes... A field of red. Stunning. Absolutely stunning. Don't you think so too?]
"No!" Lukas was shouting now, his fingers scratching at his ears, desperate to shut the voice out.
[Who let you escape?!]
The voice grew louder, infuriated.
[I DID!]
It softened again into a chilling whisper.
[You and I are one. We can never separate. I don't want to either. Now, come.]
The pencil stilled.
[The world is cruel, little boy. You've already been tainted. Stop pretending to be pure; it sickens me.]
[...Ah... I just figured the reason for why you let me slip into your life again.]
The voice cackled lowly.
[You couldn't protect her could you?]
The pencil snapped.
[Not in the past, and not now.]
[Accept me. Do you remember what you said? 'I'll have my revenge'. Were those nothing but empty words?]
[Come, child.]
Lukas grew limp, his mind in a state of turmoil. On the desk were clumsily sketches of a family, grotesque smiles plastered on their blackened faces. Sheets upon sheets of clean white paper had been tormented by dark scrawls and scribbles. And what lay on top of the others, was a dark room. Its walls were covered in smears of grey. A single boy stood in the middle, weeping.
A single tear rolled down his face.
[Good boy.]
The voice disappeared.
Lukas collapsed on the table, his mind a mess.
Why did everything he love disappear?
Until when must he endure all this pain?
Did he really have to use the methods he hated using the most, just to protect those he loved?
He was sick of everything.