How far would you go? (Currently Editing)

Luke

'Please no! Don't hurt me.'
Fire lapped around the room, circling its prey, waiting for the perfect moment to attack. The heat intensified, and the hot flames enveloped its victim.
'No! No!' The screams turned into sobs, followed by intense yells of pain. Debbie's face twisted, and the fire grabbed her and dragged her away into its clutches. Debbie's beautiful face was blackened with soot and distorted and grotesque.
'Why Luke? Why did you hurt me?' she said before disappearing into the fire.

Luke shot up, awake from sleep. He was breathing heavily, his mind swirled in a drunken haze, and he wipe his forehead free of sweat. Debbie, he had killed Debbie. Images of her death flashed through his mind, haunting his dreams. He had no recollection of what Sam had done. Sam's awakening had pushed some memories out of his subconscious, and into his mind. Luke could clearly see what had happened that terrible night. Sam had set fire to her house and trapped sweet Debbie inside. Luke grabbed the nearby Vodka bottle and took a long sip.

That evening, Luke was troubled by the sudden realisation of what he had done. He was more troubled that a condition doctors assured him had gone away, had re-surfaced. The result. His friends were dying. All those years ago, Sam had hurt those school children, and was never seen again. Three years of therapy, and at the end, he was told he was cured. It was an adolescence glitch. Luke could not understand why it had happened again. He felt fine. He did not have a sudden urge to hunt people down, and growl at them like a hideous monster. But he did feel different. He could feel a presence lingering in his mind. A hidden voice, feeding thoughts and memories into his brain. Even when he was fourteen, he struggled to understand how it worked. The doctor tried to explain that with this type of personality disorder, your subconscious can switch roles and take control of your mind. All the bad thoughts that we lock away, all the horrible memories, everything we want to forget comes to the front, and pushes away your inhibitions. You become trapped inside you own mind.

Luke could not let that happen again. Louise was in danger. Russell would be hunted down, and the only person who could stop this from happening was Luke. The same person who wanted to kill his friends.

Two bottles of Vodka later, Luke collapsed on the bed. He had decided if he were too drunk to move, Sam would not be able to emerge. It had worked. The only problem now, were the dreams. Sam was playing with Luke, filling his head with the terrible things he had done.

Luke listened to the wind howling outside. The wintery air whipped around the windows, its chilly fingers looking for a way inside, clawing at the glass. He pulled the covers up to his chin and set the bottle down. Sam would not be able to kill tonight, and Luke slumped back against the pillow. Sleep overtook him, and the sound of the wind sent Luke back into a drunken slumber, filled with nightmares. He could feel the images pouring into his mind, like a stream rushing down a valley. Sam was purposefully taunting Luke, he wanted him to suffer. That is when Luke saw Alan. The headmaster looked at Luke, his hands outstretched and his was pleading. All Luke did was laugh. He laughed so hard, tears fell down his cheek and then Alan slowly feel backwards.
'Please Luke. Help me!' Alan's final words as he disappeared down the stairs, yelling and calling for Luke to help him. All Luke did was laugh and watch while the headmaster fell to his death, then he heard a voice, calling him from the shadows.
'Well done Luke. I did this for you.'

Luke woke for the second time, startled and trembling. These dreams were vivid, and he felt traumatised. His bedding was wet with sweat, and Luke sat up looking around the room, expecting to see a mysterious figure calling his name. The room was empty and silent, except for the distant howl of the night. Sam was teasing him, messing with his mind. Worst of all, he now knew the truth. How could he live with himself, knowing that he killed people, and not just strangers, his friends? He felt the tears around his eyes, wiped his face, and took in a deep breathe.

The alcohol was wearing off, and Luke was left with a tremendous headache. Along with the nightmares, he felt like his head had been pounded repeatedly, and he felt sick. He had no idea how to stop Sam. How do you fight an enemy within you? How do you stop you? Those questions swirled around Luke's mind as he stumbled toward the kitchen. All he knew was how to drink, and if he remained permanently drunk, Sam would not be able to function. He would not be able to kill Louise. He would leave Russell alone. That is all Luke could do.

He stopped at the kitchen counter and stared at the row of neatly stacked kitchen knives. It was a terrible thought. Could he really kill himself? If he did, it would end Sam's killing spree. Taking a deep breath, Luke reached out to the take the biggest knife and froze. His sweaty hand was shaking; he could not move it any closer. He stared at the utensil, willing his hand to move, but something was stopping him. He wondered if it was Sam, but he realised it was his own fear. He could not physically hold the knife, and then use it on himself. He pulled his hand back, and then fell to the floor sobbing. He was pathetic and weak. The voice inside him was right.

Luke finally pulled himself together and started searching though the cupboards. He had consumed most of the alcohol, and he was searching for any bottles he could find. Tucked away on the back shelf, he saw the small bottle of a brand he had purchased from a recent holiday. He had no idea what it contained, but it was all he could find. Reaching out, he suddenly felt that familiar tug. His arm became heavy, paralysed, stuck in mid-air, and no matter how hard he willed his arm forward it would not budge. This time it was not fear. This time, something, or someone was holding him back, stopping him from reaching the bottle.
'No!' shouted Luke, his words echoing around the quiet space. 'Stop it!'
It was an empty threat. What could he do to stop an invisible force? He grabbed his arm with his free hand and pushed forward. His arm moved closer toward the mysterious bottle.
'You're not going to win!' he yelled again. He felt like a fool talking to himself in his empty kitchen. Yet, he was not along. Sam was here, mocking him, filling his mind was cruel images, and now, trying to stop him. He thrust his arm forward and slammed into some tinned goods. The metal containers fell to the floor with a loud crash. Luke jumped back, avoiding a collision with his feet. He kicked the tins away and reached out again, forcing his arm back into the cupboard. He had to get that bottle. It was the only way he knew how to stop Sam. Then everything changed.

Luke suddenly stood rigid, and his arm swung back to his side. Then, it a quick motion, he grabbed the strange bottle of alcohol, pulled it out of the cupboard, and threw it toward a wall. The bottle glided, and slammed into the hard wall, exploding from the impact. Clear liquid travelled down the wall, and thousands of glass fragments scattered in various directions.
'You're not going to win,' said Sam. 'It's time you had a long rest.'

Inside my mind, I could hear the screams from Luke. He was trapped, his thoughts locked away. I recalled the doctor Luke had seen as a boy saying it was like having two minds, that could switch. Sometimes sufferers were unaware of their other self, and others knew what was happening. Luke was now aware. He knew what was about to happen, and I could feel his frustration.

The transition, the switch, had been seamless. Normally, I needed Luke to be asleep, and I could creep out from his subconscious, move around without his knowledge. There was no need to hide anymore. Luke knew the truth, and he would have to deal with it. He wasn't as pathetic and weak as I assumed and had somehow managed to keep me contained for long enough. He forgot one important detail. I'm stronger, and he will ever win. His plan was a good one, hoping to stay intoxicated, numbing his senses. If he remained inebriated, there was no way I could function, and he had held me back long enough. Now it was time to get dressed, and finish what I'd started.

I only wished I could shut Luke up. He knew what I was going to do, and all he did was yell and scream, asking me to stop. I had to block him out and stay focused. It was time to pay Louise a visit.