Beguile

Chapter 56

Do I really know El?

Not really, but I do have a gist of what she's like.

There's seems to be words coming out of everyones shadows. Like a book as if I've read of them before. Sometimes when I close my eyes, the words comes to life and I get to see how they live like a movie.

Most on their childhoods. On how they grew up, on their surroundings, on what their family is like, and how that affected them. From then on, I'd have a gist of how they are now, on how they turn out from all those experiences.

That must be why I cant seem to hate most of these people.

I was doing good on pretending I cant see these words, on how their life flash like a screen because they may seem like a dream but they feel more of a nightmare. Somewhere in between my time here I had a hunch that maybe these words are actually real.

Christine was right. I keep avoiding on who I truly am.

As I try to wake myself I began to hear voices.

"I called them! I called them!"

The ringing in my head gradually disappeared along with the blur in my vision.

I blink and the shadows became silhouettes.

I blink again and colors started to pour down, except its only filled with crimson.

Christine is dead on the floor, an ugly purple bruise is tight around her neck while her eyes are bloodshot wide. A read tear fell down from her eye sockets from its burst out veins, her cut off leg keeps leaking a pool, and the wheel of limbs darkens from unclean wounds.

Someone is sobbing behind me. I look back and I realized he's been the one mumbling.

"Rie?" I sit myself up, I grimace as I feel a sting in the side of my head.

"I called them." He repeated. "Im sorry. Im sorry. Im sorry."

"Who?" I tried to make him back to his senses but it only came out as a weak whisper.

"I have no choice."

A series of movements got caught in the reflection of his blue eyes, though the ringing stop Im still buried so deep in a hollow that all I can hear is the calm rhythm of my heart beat.

Badump.. It says as if my head is under water, that everything's inaudible but the relaxing waves.

As I turn myself around my surrounding seems to dance, more vibrant, more blinding, yet my insides churn more indescribable than ever before.

All that's clear is the horrid smell.

Badump..

The words are here again. They appear like a storybook, but instead of a fairytale they force their way into my brain like a mission.

I tightly close my eyes hoping that it will disappear along dusts, but it already embedded itself on my brain and they keep reading itself to my ears. I could never imagine having a phobia of words, but here I am listening to them like an unending nightmare.

In the corner of my eyes something glints. I unconsciously peek over to see a short boyish frame hovering on a silky blond.

El, it reminded me.

My greatest, precious friend.

Suddenly the scene dawned onto me like a leaf on a storm. The surrounding flickers with sparkle-like crimson, splashing everywhere on each time he pulls the knife over and over again.