It wasn't an entirely unfamiliar situation. When he looked into a person and saw the darkness inside and the monsters hiding in that darkness, and he brought the monsters out for the person to face all over again, this was how they felt. The world, their world, and their reality, changing in their very eyes. When the past they had forgotten, the horror they were convinced was buried in their past, returned to haunt them, people either fought back and rose again stronger, or succumbed and themselves fell away into the past. Felt like it was his turn.
Only, the monster wasn't the one that was hiding within the darkness inside him, but an entirely foreign monster eyeing him from the outside. And this was so much scarier.
Idris ran away. Hoping physical distance would push away the monster. And it did. The further from Starlight he got, the further he left behind the monster. But those eyes, of the darkness, of the night itself, never fell away. For as long as there was the night, as long there was darkness, those eyes would be upon him.
He returned to his motel room, turned on all the lights, and sat in the middle, where the light was the brightest, hugging his legs, resting against his knees, struggling to stay awake because sleep meant closing his eyes and that meant embracing the darkness. He didn't want those eyes in here.
He felt like he had returned to the long forgotten past. The horror he had survived, the horror he had left behind, the forgotten memory, the dead was blossoming again.
*
His room was much, much bigger. But it wasn't really his. Not now. Not ever again. Nobody wanted to see him. Nobody wanted to be near him. And the closet was perfect for that very reason. And he was small enough for the closet to suffice. His own room, smaller but warmer, and truly his.
Mornings were quiet. Had been for the longest time. A long time ago, it was because the servants didn't know what to say or if they should say anything at all. Now, they were all just too afraid. Maybe, at some point, they wondered if it was right for a child to be exposed to such gazes, such expressions of fear. Now, they were too afraid to think anything. It was easiest to just disappear to his closet, and stay disappeared. No one would come looking, and wasn't that perfect.
He wouldn't have minded staying disappeared. For all of his life. But he wouldn't be allowed even that.
He was huddled at the back of the closet, plugging his ears so hard they hurt and he felt a wetness on his fingers. Yet, the screaming couldn't be kept out. His mother's voice burst through any and all barriers, and alongside was his father's deafening silence.
"He's not my son. He's not my child. He's not human. I bore the devil. Carried him in my womb for nine months, and birthed him into this world with all the love a mother could possess. Not realizing he wasn't my son, but the devil. And the devil was the devil. No amount of loving can change the devil. And before the devil can burn us down, burn us all down. I will burn him down, along with everything."
And then, she burst out laughing. Maniacally. Interspersed with screams, the one word, "Burn".
He stayed in the closet, without moving, without breathing. Even as smoke filled in from under the door, grey puffs that were white against the darkness. Burning the air inside, turning it into smoke as well. And that smoke entering him, burned him from inside out. And yet, he stayed mute.
*
Idris woke up, to find himself lying on the ground, in the warm embrace of light from the bulbs in the room. White light. Void of life. Perfect.
It was morning. The sun was up, and crashing against the window, screaming to be let in. He smiled without reaching for the window. Instead, he looked down at himself, and frowned. The sweat had dried, but the wetness remained in his clothes, and in the stickiness of his skin. He showered, changed, and stood in front of the closed window. It was morning. Brighter outside than it was inside. But he didn't feel confident.
And he would have stayed standing in front of the closed window, if not for the memory of him sitting in the closet even as everything burned down outside. The memory might not have given him strength, but it did push him. And with trembling hands, he reached for the curtain, shoved it aside, felt the sun hit his face, the light fill his eyes, and smiled. He looked around outside, carefully, slowly. Found no traces of even shadows. He was facing the sun, and there couldn't be a safer place. Those eyes couldn't possibly be here. Sure, they were out there, somewhere, waiting. And they would get to him eventually. As the sun climbed down, and the shadows grew longer and darker, and the night clawed in relentlessly. Until then, he would enjoy the feeling of safeness.
He pulled the curtain over the window. And headed out. He would grab some food. Change his mood. And while eating, check out the news. He felt bothered. And he didn't like the feeling.
He was having sandwiches. And boxed orange juice. Both cold. And both delightful. And while he enjoyed the meal, he searched the news. He knew for certain Rika had made it to the papers, even if amounting to no more than a couple of lines.
Rika, twenty five years old, employee at a big supermarket chain, found dead in her flat. Believed to be suicide. She was quiet, kept to herself. Not many friends. Neighbours had no complaints. But some opined that she might have been depressed.
Brief. A snippet, really. But that was all the interest Rika could rouse. Idris knew this, because he had read the articles. From all the papers and the internet. And so, he knew something was definitely wrong when he couldn't find any of those articles. All news concerning Rika was wiped off. No, that wasn't it. Something was different, changed, with Rika herself.
He went to the store. Didn't have to walk long, before finding himself staring at a smiling and cheerful Rika from a couple of aisles away. She wasn't smiling because of the job. She was truly happy. And that joy was radiating off of her. Shrouding her, like a cloud of pink. And all those who came in contact with the cloud were affected by her joy as well. She was truly spreading joy.
Having already looked into her, he didn't need to meet her eyes again to look in. And not a lot had changed inside. The darkness was still present. Still the same large and deep. The same looming over her. But it's hold over her had weakened. As if the darkness itself had weakened. The monster, her monster, her father was still somewhere in that darkness. But hiding. It wasn't the darkness that had changed.
It was her. Outside the darkness. She had changed. And the reason couldn't be any more obvious. Right next to the darkness was a shadow. A shadow that was familiar. Whose eyes were familiar. And meeting those eyes, Idris froze. And the words from last night, echoed inside him.
"Got you."
He fell back. Almost collapsed. Kept himself on his feet with sheer will. And ran away. As quick as his feet could go. Getting faster as he felt the darkness growing behind him, unaffected by the sun shining down from high up. Running from the shadow in the centre of the darkness.