An Attempt of Sanity

I glare at my soon victim from across the room, sleeping there in that bed. My bed. It was almost unacceptable, and my pale, elongated form snaked across the room to the young child. Gripping her cheek in my hand, I gave a wide smile. I wasn't focused on hurting her, or raping her, I was there to be her guardian. I stroked her head, before grabbing her leg, the docile attitude in me trying to grasp onto sanity. As she stirred awake from the disturbance in her sleep, my sunken eyes, a sign of my quite obvious dehydration, stared into hers. For a moment, her pale, beautiful blue eyes stared at me with the utmost calmness and love, before she started to scream. Immediately, I had to silence her, but I didn't want to hurt her. I was there to be her guardian angel.

I slammed her six year old skull into the foot-board. One, two. Three, four. Five, six. Seven.

I stared at the mess I had made both on the foot-board and on myself. I knew eventually that I would be blamed for the incident from the blood on my ragged clothes and stuck into my sunken eyes. I had gone through all the possibilities, all the rituals, and considered everything that I could do should something like this happened, and it turned out it wasn't some stranger across the street. I had done it. No matter. I cradled her small, broken body as I picked up fragments of skull and bloodied mushes of brain matter.

Her mother walked into the room before I had the chance to hide. When she saw me, she immediately hit me,

"What the fuck have you done to my sweet baby!?" she shouted, tears and anger welling up inside her.

"...I... did... what I had to... She... was too loud..." I croaked, before she grabbed the one sided torso robe and threw me out of her room, closing and locking the door behind me. I pushed my weakened form up from the floor, arms already decorated in bright purples and blues as I stared onward at the door, a masterpiece waiting for my approval inside. I took to the right of me, entering the bathroom and gazing into the mirror. The first words that I spoke to my reflection with a crazed, yet still sane grin were,

"...You're a... monster... a hideous... monster..."

The words were true, of course, and all forty six of my chromosomes knew that, including all a hundred billion neurons. A melancholic memory of my past self flickers through my mind, of waking up to that beast that was almost entirely unclothed except for a waist-cloth. I'm going around looking for more prey so that I can return to humanity, although all my humanity disappeared seventeen weeks ago. I stood there in front of the mirror for what felt like hours with my hands covering my wrinkled and stretched face, my lips having long since decayed, and left as nothing. I left the house, but not after shattering that damn mirror.

I now found a young boy, so young and vulnerable while sleeping, I had observed him while he was awake and realized his special personality. I stroke his face as he turns in his sleep to face me, my amber eyes staring at him, the tapetum lucidum special to this particular race I am reflecting the light in this dim room so that I may see him. I brush a couple locks of hair out of his face as I smile, laying there beside him, my rotten, dark gray teeth being revealed behind my cracked and decayed lips. Almost reminds me of my own daughter and wife... although they passed long ago. I was convicted of murder.

Young little John opened his eyes and stared at my face curiously, as if not even smelling my decay or seeing the injuries inflicted on my face. Presumably blind and unable to smell? I couldn't tell. He reached over my shoulder, touching the fabric but couldn't even tell I was there. All of his senses seemed to be gone, and I sympathized for him. He was probably unable to use all five of his senses. He retracted his hand, grabbed his glasses, and smiled at me gently even though he could now see me. I returned a wide grin, attempting to scare him with my injuries, but he didn't seem fazed. By this day and age, he likely knew how to detect silent words and come up with an answer.

"...Don't I... scare... you?" I asked, before he responded, nearly shouting,

"No."

This caused anger to well up inside me, and I hit him. Across the face. He didn't seem to feel it, though he did wince and cover the hit. I grabbed the collar of his shirt, lifting him off of his feet with both hands before unsteadily walking over to the closed closet, opening it, before throwing him on the ground and kicking him in the face, knocking him out. I set his head between the doors, and closed it roughly on it. One, two, three. Four, five, six. Seven.

His head was mush. I shouted at his dead corpse with the control I had at this point, as if expecting a response from his broken form,

"...Why the... fuck... weren't you scared!? I... didn't want... to kill you! But you gave me no damn choice!" Even I was surprised by how much energy I had to overcome my wheezing in the last sentence of my short rant. I sat there, on the dirtied carpet and simply stared at his corpse, nothing more, nothing less.

The father came in with the shotgun, and shot my left arm off. I winced from the notion, before I attacked him, myself. With a large shard of the child's skull. It wasn't the best choice, but I found it soothed my right arm's nerves as I plunged it into his Adam's apple.

I had now killed three people, and the set of veins located over-top my heart pulsated before resting and smoothing itself out. I dropped the tool before covering my face again and crying into my single palm, my left hand shot off, little tad bits of flesh holding on lightly. I kicked the now disproportionate neck, which caved and revealed his slimy insides. I pulled my foot out, and walked out of the house again. I fucked it up again.

The creature once again visited me that night for the first time since a month ago, despite feeling as though it was years. The progeria sufferer laid its perfect, bony hands on my face and caressed my left eye,

"... Jos...ep...h..." it spoke gently, "...You... fail...ed... Do not mu...rder... those who... frust...rate you..."

It dug into my eye-socket, ripping out my eye. I mean, it hurt after a while, but my decaying heart already hurt with the dried blood inside puncturing every vein and vessel.

"...And... there's... a price... For fail...ing..."

I nodded, and, with my left eye now missing, and the thing carefully devouring that very same eye, I set off to find a victim that I would find good enough of a friend and appetizer for the creature.