Emperor of Mayhem

t h i r t y - t w o

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I wasn't sure how exactly long it had been since I felt something significant; something real as pain, hunger, anger, sadness or joy. Basically any emotion whatsoever. My head had been empty for quite a while now, my mind as deserted as an infertile land, and I seemed to be submerged endlessly in a pool of darkness, so helpless I couldn't even reach for light if I sighted it at a distance.

I was so sure I wouldn't feel it if someone were to cut me open.

But there had been distant sounds, and there was a voice-it belonged to a man. It was deep and enchanting, it was almost too soothing to hear. He seemed to be waiting tirelessly for me. But I wasn't sure why he was waiting for me, neither did I know where I went that he needed me to come back to him. I seemed to have been gone for too long.

As usual, my spirit lifted when I suddenly began to hear movements around me again. It was like the padding of footsteps against a tiled floor, an echo of someone's restlessness and unease. The footsteps weren't heavy, neither were they so light. But they were there, slow and almost calculative. And they wouldn't seem to stop.

A tiny frown registered on my face when a sound like the shatter of glass on a hard surface echoed, and like a boomerang, it went and came back to heat my ears, vibrating against my skin. But it still sounded so far away even though I felt it way too close.

"Fuck!" Though the interspace was evidently stretched, I heard someone hiss in agony, frustration and pain lacing his tone, "damn it!"

But that voice. I knew that voice. That was the voice I had been hearing for quite a while now. In my moment of darkness, it kept me company as a loyal friend would. It had whispered words to me, and it had read to me love stories. It had pleaded countlessly for me to wake up and look at him.

I'd always heard it all, but I could never do it-grant his one wish. Which was to wake up already. No matter how hard I tried, I just couldn't wake up for him.

Even when he told me he loved me.

"There's broken glass in my room." He said tiredly to someone. I didn't know who he was talking to. I could only sense one presence in the room. And it didn't make sense that he was talking to himself.

I tried again to crack my eyes open but I failed. My eyelids had felt so heavy it remained stubborn in sheltering my eyes.

So I gave up...for the meantime. But I would definitely try again. When he would come to talk to me, to stroke my hand, kiss my skin and tell me again and again that he loved me. And that he missed me. And how much my silence was driving him to the point of insanity.

I would wait a little longer then try again. I must wake up. He had told me to wake up for him.

All of a sudden, I heard what sounded like a knock on a door. It was gentle and persistent. It was annoying.

"Come in." I eventually heard a murmur, almost too reluctantly. And there was a coldness in the smoldering tone of the faceless man. Perhaps he didn't want to entertain the person behind the door. I didn't want to entertain whoever was at the door too. I only wanted to hear the gentle heartbeat of the mystery man when he would come to sit next to me. I only wanted the intoxicating, woodsy with a hint of floral scent from him.

There was a loud noise made when the door was opened and I felt the wind the presence of the new person brought, or perhaps there was an opened window somewhere entertaining what seemed like an afternoon billow.

"What is it?" He demanded immediately. He was obviously brooding, for he sounded way too pensive and irritated. He must be really in a bad mood. I wondered what made him so sad. Was it me? Was it because I refused to wake up?