If Joshua could describe the feeling of losing something so important to your identity, to your very being and having to watch as it slowly dies in your bloodied hands unable to help it would be the feeling of drowning. It was the dream that recurred every night he went to sleep since finding out that Missy was ill. Drowning.
It always started the same, Missy's sickly face sinking deeper into the eternal void desperately grasping for air, flailing for oxygen as the depths dragged her deeper by her feet consuming her entirely as she cried out for air. The air bubbles rising slowly towards his face as he felt the last breathes of air she would take slowly leave her mouth like a fatal clock; death approaching faster with each pop of a bubble as she thrashed and attempted to stop the inevitable. Her face was branded with fear and desperation as the lines on her pale sickly face deepened giving her the appearance of a dying old woman with wrinkles of sadness and grief making her face akin to a scrunched up bag. Then there were her eyes, hazel as usual but tainted with the reflection of his own indifferent expression, stained with grief and betrayal like brown stained glass. Then and only then when she was too far from his grasp would he finally act. Always late. The powerful tide wrapped around his body, twisting and turning as it squeezed its vice grip suffocating him. He could hear the mocking swathes of waves above overlapping in laughter as it watched his miserable state. He struggled against the water, pushing it away from him as he crawled his way towards Missy shouting as loud as he could as the water clawed his mouth open, forcefully tearing out his breath and silencing his attempts to call to her. Late. Late again. His clothes clung to his damp skin like weights dragging him down together into the depths of eternal darkness. Missy's eyes slowly closed as her screams grew visibly calmed as her violent movements became increasingly supressed. With one final bubble which rose with grace, she died silently without a word of opposition allowed by the unforgiving tide. At the moment of her death, with regret and guilt heavy on his heart he would jerk awake his back pooled with sweat and his pores enlarged with fear unable to go to sleep with the fear of the same dream.
As he awoke, his hurried and panicked movement shifted the cushioned chair he slept on causing a hushed screeching noise as its oak leg dragged across the blue hospital floor. Glancing around the decrepit walls which sighed, as if tired from witnessing the aftermath of death, the dead pale bodies and grieving family clawing at the corpse as if attempting to drag the soul back from purgatory. The white curtain separated the aggrieved families who haunted the dying patients in the palliative ward, a combination of fear and hope scrawled across their faces. This ward was inarguably the worst, every living soul in the ward was plagued by death, whether the doctors who were forced to deliver hades' message, the parents and family who despised death with visceral hate or the silent patients. Afterall, most of the dying patients in the ward were always silent there facial expressions inscrutable and the grief ever present like death hung a pendulum swing away. The anxiousness of waiting for death often resulted in dead silence and a contemplative look from them as they considered life and the possibility of life after death; a depressing hole which only caused even more sadness. As the light peeked through the satin curtains Mr and Mrs Barnett stirred as Mr Barnett slept on a awkward plastic chair which was humorously smaller than him and Mrs Barnett on a crescent sofa chair leaning on Missy's legs as if attempting to memorise the warmth of her only daughter. Missy however, looked the worst by far with bloody tubes sinking into her skin visible only by the outline jutting from under her skin giving her the appearance of a puppet with each tube keeping her functioning. Her face was no longer warm, happy or even sad , she was expressionless. A shell of her former self. Her vibrant eyes became dull and her auburn fierce hair wire-like and dead like the colour of decaying autumn leaves.
"Hey Josh."
His dad said as he groaned awoken by the morning light, his face distraught with grief almost looking more bereft of life than Missy's.
"Hey" Joshua replied curtly his eyesight naturally descending towards his scuffed trainers as he avoided the eye sight of any of his family.
"You know you should try to look into her eyes at least " he chastised " she hasn't died yet so this may be the last time you get to look into her eyes whilst she's alive. Whilst she may not be verbal, she is still living"
A silence followed his words as Joshua contemplated his words.
"ill try" he said keeping his words to a minimum to avoid waking his mother and sister up any further, "ill go grab us some breakfast from the café down the road"
Ignoring his father disapproving gaze he hurried towards the curtains drawing them quickly before heading to the hotel exit not giving him the chance to reply. Whilst it was cowardly he couldn't stand the unbearable atmosphere, he couldn't just sit as his sister died in his eyes.
Making his way down the cobbled high road he entered the Hardrock Café, an old and narrow café which was remarkable simple architecturally with plain brown walls and white and black chequered flooring with matching black metallic chairs and tables dotted around. The café was relatively empty with a short queue that seemed to fill the place.
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Erik's POV
Rage. Rage is the emotion that dominated Erik's life, anger at his parents who only ever went to work and came back to sleep without a word of recognition to concern. If only he was more smart, more successful at school perhaps if they were prouder of him, he would be worthy. Worthy of their attention and even their love. How could he be ignored, he who demanded the respect and attention of his entire school with ease. It was never enough. He was never enough. Emotional turmoil was commonplace for him, he who was so great yet was not even worthy enough to be hated by his parents, they were simply indifferent to his existence like a fly that slapped annoyingly around them.
It was the first day of secondary school and he loved it. Everyone's attention was on him, it was as if he was the monarch and they, his subjects. Who needs his parents when he saw fear even in the teachers' eyes when he got up. This was power. The power to garner respect through fear. But he was a fool and only when he had met that demon had he understood true fear. If he was a monarch, then that demon was a deity of death itself, the embodiment of divine strength his power beyond the comprehension of humans. It was when he met that deity that it welled like an overflowing well. Humiliation. He had become pathetic again, ignored and condescended by everyone he walked past as he saw the image of him bawling on his knees imprinted in their minds resurfacing as they saw him. Whilst they still feared him enough to not mock him, he knew that in their hearts he was a joke.
He would have his pound of flesh in return, he vowed to himself. He would resurrect his self-importance and would never again be ignored.
His phone rang so he picked it up and listened intently as a glimmer of satisfaction flashed in his eyes as he headed towards the forest with 3 of his friends.
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Joshua found it unbearable, the mere thought of going back into the hospital made his stomach turn so with the intention of clearing his mind he went to the place he felt calmest. After hurriedly delivering the breakfast to the hotel room which consisted of a dozen stale croissants and three English breakfast teas he headed towards the forest clearing. As he pedalled towards the forest the scent of dirt and sweet pollen wafted through the air. Then the beautiful tapestry of blue hues unveiled before his eyes with the light blue sky contrasting with the azure vast ocean created a perfectly picturesque horizon.
He sat staringly longingly at the view unfolding beneath him as his legs swayed over the edge just like he had with Missy. He had become frighteningly numb to the suffocating and heart wrenching pain he felt when thinking off her. He grew even more anxious at the possibility of him eventually becoming numb to her death. Forgetting her life, losing all memories of who she was. His emotions resonated with the chaotic weather as the clouds cascaded and twisted like the embodiment of a Van Gogh painting, the perfect harmony of chaos and serenity. Time passed by around him quickly like pages of a book flipping quickly as he sat contemplatively, unaware of the passing hours.
Ever since the incident with Dr March, he often sat like this and watched the hours pass by all whilst completely disregarding the abhorrent horror which sat back-to-back with him. The Crimson Creature had become placated since beating the hulky boy as if still satisfied by the horror show Joshua had created which had led to fierce reprimand by his parents who had neither the mental capacity or emotional capacity left to try and punish him about it. However, despite its horrifying appearance Joshua had learnt to disregard its existence and treated it not dissimilar to being stalked by a particularly intimidating German, placated only until it's not and then it will inevitably transform into what it is. Abhorrent predator.
As the sun had dawned, and the sky had darkened the weather had taken a 360 as the stormy winds billowed and wailed like resentful souls, urging him to join their lethal melody as he sat at the edge of the cliff with the wind urging him to jump. The sky was devoured by a deep abyss which blanketed the sun subsuming any light which attempted to penetrate. Lightning surged, roaring and screaming in divine rage crackling through the heavy ash-coloured clouds as they undulated between intense roars and lethal displays of lightning. Enchanted by the violent display, Joshua began cycling through the calming technique he had learnt from Missy, reminiscing over her words as he felt the abyssal force within calm itself.
Interrupting the calming chaos a cacophony of shouting voices and loud chatter cut through the air causing Joshua to twist his head to wards the forest opening to see who it was coming up at this late hour. As he sat in an elevated position on the cliff, he saw three boys approaching each of them had a large physique and with each heavy step towards Joshua he was able to squint and discern their identities. The only boy of the trio he recognised was the brutish boy that he had pummelled a few days prior, he hadn't expected him to come crawling back for more he said internally whilst chuckling. Maniacally laughing he decided to sit in waiting. Just in time he thought, I needed to release some pent-up frustration anyways.
"H-hey, y-you fucker!" Erik yelled, his voice lacerating through the air stirring up the courage and resolving himself as his voice increased in tone as he spoke.
The other two boys were now 2 feet way from Joshua surrounding him in a circle formation with Erik in the middle.
The Crimson Creature sat in waiting, cross-legged watching the humorous scene unfold.
"What the hell do you want from me now" Joshua replied, the tone of his voice steady and his demeanour indifferent. He continued "I would've thought the last beating would be enough, but I guess you still have some stupid left in you".
"S-shut up!" Erik yelled offering no rebuttal.
"I-It done. Y-you're d-done!" he yelled pathetically, his voice quivering like a leaf in the wind as his body twisted placing one foot in front of the other and raising his burly sausage hands hesitantly.
Erik's henchmen likewise began to mirror Erik snapping glances at each other as if seeking some form of group confirmation despite already in stance.
Joshua found it quite an amusing sight, such hesitation and fear from a person so grotesquely large. A walking contradiction riddled with insecurity. Nevertheless, attempting to avoid confrontation Joshua rises to his feet reluctantly, his posture straight and loose like a Frenchman with a cigarette whilst his scrawny arms flailed to the side.
"And what exactly am I done with?" asked Joshua mockingly, a wide grin taped onto his face as he smiled slyly. A slight giggle escaped the corners of his mouth as he looked at the sight of the three brutish teenagers all coalesce in a march towards him.
"You're-re done with mocking me! You won't make a fool out of me any longer, I deserve respect…and you are going to respect me."
Erik's demeanour grew increasingly serious as the three of them approached the cliff. If there was one thing that gave Erik, the most confidence it was his ability to fight and whilst the incident in the hall caused him to faulter he assumed Joshua had taken some sort of drug but now … now he was going to learn.
"Respect…. pffahahahah" Joshua laughed incredulously his shoulders visibly shaking before he continued.
"Why would anyone respect you. YOU'RE FUCKING PATHETIC!"
Erik's face paled as a dam of emotion came crashing down obliterating any restraint that existed in his being, the small ounce of hesitation swept away as all he could see was isolation, a smaller boy dwarfed by the darkness around him, transformed by isolation and neglect.
Erik swung his brutish fist with visceral force, his strength amplified by pain as it clattered into Joshuas smug grin which wrapped around his fist in a vortex of blood and bone. Much like a ragdoll, Joshua was flung to the floor as confusion and fear echoed within him as his bone creaked under the collective brutal force of merciless kicking. Each stamp resonated one emotion within him. Weakness. Helpless. Drowning. Drowning. Always goddamn drowning. His mouth opened helplessly as muffled shouts arose out of his flailing body, clawing desperately for sheer life as he fought with every inch of his being ripping into the skin of his assailants, biting for freedom.
Out of his misery and strife grew a nostalgic perverted smile which stretched the length of his face as he laughed haughtily between each strike and laceration. A newfound disgust grew within him. Weakness. Truly pathetic, Joshua thought as blood oozed out of his ruptured tan skin. When would this feeling of helplessness stop? When would he be free of burden? Free from the haunting ghost of his soon-to-be dead sister, free from this cruel world? As he embraced the grotesque beauty of his current downtrodden state, he became embroiled in self-loathing. In the end perhaps it was better this way, to die before attending his sister's funeral. Peeking through the slit of his swollen bruised eyes he stared deeply at the amused abhorrent creature sitting relaxed free of remorse unmoved by his struggle. His punctured and grazed hands clenched the grass as the smell and taste of iron and mud enveloped his corpse. Then resolving himself for his imminent death as the three boys had become entranced in a dance of bloody beatings with each yell like a primitive chant celebrating triumph he simply waved to his tormentor, bailiff and protector glimpsing at the horrific sight before his eyes shut. The Crimson Creature with its swirling vortex of black-red energy lifted his bone thin arm and waved back in an image that was more haunting than the warming heartfelt goodbye of two enemies trapped in everlasting acquaintance.
Seeing Joshua's eyes close the dance of blood and ego was over his consciousness sacrificed on the crucible of Erik's pride. The three boys surrounded his body with pride beaming through their expressions as one of the boys prodded Joshua's head with his foot. However. As the atmosphere of joyous glee epitomised, they felt the air chill and the sky darken.
The Crimson Creature rose. As if pulled by a marionette it rose hauntingly each limb moving in a chaotic fashion until it towered over the boys who stood petrified frozen in time. It rose to a horrific 9 foot as its bone thin skeletal structure took a mortifying form resembling the impoverished child starving as within the chaotic vortex of blood-red and obsidian threads interweaving, its alien flesh ebbing a famished stygian skeletal frame which only exemplified its horrific appearance. Yet what made it the incarnation of death itself was its perverted smile (not dissimilar to Joshuas) amplified by a pair of bloody coloured iris with dark looming tentacles desperately clawing out of its cuticles like the limbs of the kraken arising from the dark pits of the ocean. Each of its long bone thin arms fitted with abhorrent and long lethal fingers like instruments of slaughter.
Then with a rough sweeping movement which lacerated through the air the Creature cleaved through the first boy. The boy's fragile chest departed from his waist as the bony arm tore through flesh and bone with brutal nonchalance, uncaring as his organs spilled messily unto the muddy ground followed by the deep thud of his body flung in two separate directions.
With the fluid veracity of a experienced predator the Creature twisted his bony structure roughly with primal speed before plunging his other bony claw into the throat of the second boy before disembowelling him in a similarly lethal display with the entrails regurgitated through his mouth clawed in the Creatures bony fingers.
It was a beautiful display of pure savagery, like the viewing of a lion ripping out the neck of a gazelle with his deep-set fangs, primitive, savage but in the same light an awe-inspiring reminder of the cruelty of weakness and the fragility of life.
Erik had awoken out of his fatal trance with the savage grim sight of his two friends being brutally claimed by death. His breathing stopped almost entirely as his lungs refused to pump life into what his body considered already dead. His trousers soggy with the poignant and pungent combination of shit and piss as sweat flooded through his every orifice. It was as if his body had resigned to his fate. He screamed internally for his legs to move, to escape, to flee to do anything but stay with than monster.
*step*
*step*
*step*
As the horrifying steps approached the only emotion that remained in the husk of Erik was regret as horrific tableaus of his unfortunate life were cut short by the image of the dark rolling clouds and the infinite ocean flipped as Eriks head landed uneventfully on the grass leaking in splutters of blood before being bathed in the eruption of blood from his body which had now fallen victim to gravity and was flayed on the grass like a pig on the butcher table.
As Joshua awoke, his body screaming in torment from the ruptures, lacerations and bruises which riddled his tattered body; his tan skin more blood-red than brown creating an eerie contrast with the blood matching the hue of his eyes. Then he compulsively leaned over the cliff and spewed out vomit as the pungent cocktail of bloodied entrails, mud, iron and faeces assaulted his senses. Unable to stop the pouring of gastric acid he clenched his hand over his mouth forcing the vomit back in as he choked and spat on the mixed viscous liquid a toxic combination of blood and vomit.
Noticing the dripping of blood from above him unto his blood addled hair, he stood on the edge of a steep cliff, the stormy winds billowing and wailing like resentful souls, urging him to join the melody of death. The sky was dominated by darkness as lightning surged, roaring as if calling for Hades himself to descend. As he turned his eyes towards his hands, he was mortified. A familiar metallic smell tinged the air. Thick viscous blood streamed down his bony fingers twisting and turning sadistically till his hands were engulfed in its vicious grasp. His hands quivered uncontrollably, each finger dancing to a rhythm of its own—a silent, uncontrollable tremor. It was as if invisible threads tied to his hands were being yanked from all directions, causing the skin to ripple and twitch letting blood leak through. The nerves beneath the surface buzzed like a hive of anxious bees, sending tiny, uncontrollable jolts through the fingertips, betraying the turmoil within. The air was snatched violently from his lungs as his ribs reverberated due to his uncontrollable breathing. The arbitrary beating of his heart heightened, each beat echoing the tormenting of his soul which wept as he gazed upon the mangled and twisted corpses so bereft of life that it was unimaginable that such a hideous pile of corrupted flesh and bone was once a life. 3 corpses lay at his feet as nostalgia set in.