Chapter 11 Past Traumatic event

Kingsley sighed before walking out of the room, he didn't plan on meddling in her affairs anyway.

He gently shut the door after him. He descended the stairs and walked towards the living room. Raymond was sitting on one of the couches with one of his legs on the other.

Kingsley's eyes scanned the few boxes on the table and he stood in the middle of the living room to check out the content in the boxes.

His face was calm as he opened one of the boxes, he was busy inspecting it while saying "This looks good" he whispered in the quiet room.

Raymond hummed "The doctor had kept these drugs the moment they came into the country" he reported back, his eyes following Kingsley's movements.

Kingsley's face remained blank as his fingers caressed the bottles in the box, some sealed pills, and multiple unused syringes.

Nobody said a word, Kingsley checked the two other boxes that contained the same kinds of stuff.

"You can leave now," Kingsley said without looking at Raymond, he started packing the three boxes in his arm.

Raymond let out a sigh of relief as he gladly scurried away, he missed his bed already and he was so exhausted.

Kingsley turned off the lights in the living room before marching towards the stairs again.

His bedroom door clicked open, revealing a dim room that was covered in Grey paint, Grey curtains on the window and Grey bed sheets on the bed .

He was a lover of Grey and he fancied the dark contrast of his room which fits his temperament so much—closed up and ruthless.

He walked towards his bathroom area, a closet was nailed to the wall. The closet wasn't an ordinary closet—it was a safe.

He slowly opened the safe where different bottles of liquid drugs, pills, and syringes were stocked.

Kingsley started to remove the empty cans and used syringes, he moved the newly bought ones into the safe.

He took a white small can and uncapped it, Kingsley slowly poured a few pills on his Palm, and he selected two pills out before keeping the rest back into the can.

He threw the pills into his mouth, and closed the can, before shutting the safe.

He dumped the used syringes and bottles on the trash can close to the bathroom door.

Kingsley slowly walked towards his bed and sat on the edge, his face twisted as he gently laid on the bed as if it was a bed filled with thorns.

The moonlight was the only source of lighting in his room.

Kingsley lay on his back, his both hands under his head, his eyes staring back at the ceiling that was dark at night. His lone figure remained motionless on the bed as he was too scared to close his eyes—too scared to sleep and being haunted like every other night.

This was him every other night—unable and unwilling to fall asleep.

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Gunshots!

"No, No…Please!" A sharp ear-piercing cry followed and then, shattering of glasses.

"Die" A loud growl echoed and then the tearing of skin which invited those screams again.

Splash of blood like an open dam! Deep growls! Faint whimpering and pleas all mixed.

Heavy breathing, and panting filled the dark room, and sweat dripped off Kingsley's face.

His eyes were tightly shut, and his hands were gripping the sheets under him tightly. His chest raised and fell carelessly.

He was having the usual nightmare and those voices were still echoing in his head:

"Spare me, son." A woman's weak cry penetrated his head.

And then, faint voices rumbled, carrying pain and grief.

"I hate you!"

"Please.."

"Nooo!!!"

Kingsley flinched in his sleep, his eyes still shut tightly as the nightmare continued.

"Mom!!! Dad!!" That was his voice, calling out to them.

Kingsley's shaking breath filled his quiet room, his head painfully moved sideways as the nightmare continued, a reminder of what happened five years ago that has been haunting him.

The sheets were almost ripped apart by the tight grip Kingsley applied, his shirt was soaked with sweat.

His haggard breathing intensified as a gunshot exploded in his head and his eyes snapped open that second.

Kingsley was jolted awake, His heart thudded in between his rib cage. His heartbeats were too loud against his ears as his chest kept rising and falling in quick succession. Pain filled his eyes.

His eyes locked on the ceiling before him as he tried to catch his breath but it wasn't working.

Goosebumps covered his skin as he kept on trembling as if his body was connected to electrocuted wires.

He didn't know when he had fallen asleep earlier. He thought he would be able to stay awake a few nights.

Almost immediately, a sharp headache struck him and his face twisted even more as he winced in pain, holding onto his head.

As if something was cutting his flesh, he was feeling burned all over as he rolled out of his bed.

Kingsley let out a painful and deep growl as he fell off the bed and landed like a heap on the cold tiled floor.

He couldn't pick himself up as he crawled on the ground, the pain shot through his bones as if a thousand needles were pricking his skin.

Perspiration kept dripping from his forehead as he clutched his chest which felt like it was on fire. It hurts.

His vision shook as if he was hallucinating, his teeth grinding together as his lips wouldn't stop trembling.

The sharp pieces of memory of that night rushed into his head and he groaned In pain as the splitting headache intensified.

"Please, let me live!" His father's shaky voice ran through his head and Kingsley growled as he cried out loud in pain.

The beads of sweat gathered on his face, running down his jaw and colliding with his shirt, his lips shook terribly as his tears started to roll out freely.

Kingsley cried. He slowly curled up on the cold ground as the pain started to make him numb, and the effect of the anti-anxiety pills started to kick in. His erratic breathing continued till he got so worn out.

A few minutes rolled by and he was still On the floor, surrounded by past pain that left a stigma on him, Kingsley lay on the ground stiffly. His eyes stared blankly into space as the pain gnawed at his heart.

This was him every other night—when he was alone, the memories keeps flooding in to mock him and cause him nothing less than pain itself.