Goodnight

Chapter 3

"Are you alright?"

The feeble lady sitting in front of me had the palest eyes I had ever seen. They seemed almost white, and I couldn't stop staring at them as she spoke to me. With my cracked lips slightly parted, my jaw clenched and my swollen eyes locked on her, there was no doubt that she was uncomfortable. I could see in the way she shifted in her seat.

I must have made Amy a little nervous.

"Why do you ask?"

Amy pushed the center of her thick-framed glasses up the bridge of her nose, and allowed one of her thin fingers to scrape the edge of her wrinkled cheek. She then cleared her throat and stared at the clipboard in front of her.

"Well, your last visit," she said gently, "it was a while ago. And your mother, she expressed some concerns about you recently. I can tell now, Sweetie, that you haven't slept in a while. Is that right, Ethan?"

Of course it's right. Did the bitch even have to ask? There was a vibrant ring of dark flesh surrounding my heavy eye sockets, my scleras were a bright shade of scarlet, and my hair was a disheveled mess of lengthy knots. It really couldn't have been more obvious.

But I was fine, and I didn't understand why my mother had to always assume something was up.

"I've never felt more alive, actually."

Amy took a deep breath and shook her head, her white curls falling to her shoulders in wispy threads.

I don't even need therapy.

All I could do was listen to the woman documenting my insanity onto her notepad. The sound of her pencil paired with the infuriating tick of the Grandfather Clock beside me filled the claustrophobic room, making the beige walls with inspiring quotes plastered across them feel even closer together.

My eyes locked on a poster of a purple and pink blotted sunset, with thick black letters across it saying, "Go confidently in the direction of your dreams. Live the life you have imagined". I almost laughed out loud - all I could think about was becoming the screaming man with no skin on his face.

The therapist's thin, cracked lips curved into a smile - likely trying to mask her discomfort towards my aloof behaviour. She recoiled by sinking into her seat, noticing my strange expression. "Ethan, I know you're not going to make this visit difficult. Right?"

My back hit the creaky, wooden chair I was seated in, as my fingers began to pick at the frayed end of my sweatshirt.

"Right."

"So then, tell me why you haven't been sleeping. I am here for you," she whispered, concern clouding her eyes that were almost ivory-coloured.

I had to give her credit. She was pretty good at pretending to be concerned - I mean, anything for an hour's worth of money.

"I guess I really don't want to," I answered, surprised by my voice. It was gravelly and thick with the longing for any amount of sleep.

Like there was any way in Hell I would tell her what happened. She would send me back right then and there - Amy was almost as dangerous as my mother.

Amy shook her head again, something she did a copious amount of times during my visits. She took her glasses off and set them on her cherry-wood desk, before giving me another small grin.

"Ethan, Honey, the last time I saw you, you were all better," her smile grew, showing her eroded teeth. I'm not going to lie, at this point, my heartbeat was accelerating by the second. She was going to send me back, she was going to.

"And do you want to know what happens to boys like you, when they don't want to get all better again?"

Her smirk was beginning to grow wider, reaching her eyes, and she began to giggle loudly. The walls seemed to be growing narrower and narrower - my lungs were tightening and my head was spinning. My body was threatening to reel towards the ground, and I couldn't seem to hold myself up despite my attempts to use all the strength I could muster.

Suddenly, I jumped when I felt a tickle against my leg. I looked down to find a thick-bodied, grey rat bound from beside my leg and up onto the desk. Its rotted, chipped, and pointed teeth reflected off of the fluorescent light hanging above us.

"What the fuck!" I screamed, standing up immediately. Amy seemed unfazed, her smile still there and her giggle still present even through the roar in my ears.

And then more. More rats began to scurry up the side of the table, and I looked in panic to find that they were pushing through cracks in the drywall on all sides of the room. The sounds of their paws hitting the wood tile filled my ears, their menacing eyes and squeals clogging my mind.

Amy was no longer Amy. It was Him...

He was standing up now, his figure only a mere silhouette. The insane, mysterious man was only standing there at first, his large and round eyes locked on me. I wanted so terribly to look away from his darkened eyes but for some reason, I couldn't look away. My chest was so compact it felt as if every one of my ribs were crushing against the pressure, and my breath was gone again.

So clearly could I see the flesh which once covered his forehead folding down, displaying the gory contents of his skull and face which dripped with maroon.

The rats' claws grasped onto the man's tattered dress - Amy's dress. They dipped their heads down, their meaty tails swinging along the edge of his skin as well. The rodents began to gnaw at the material of his clothing and skin of the man's legs and arms, sending blood and torn flesh flying across the room.

"Stop!" I screamed, my fingernails digging into the sides of my skull. "Go away, go away, please!" My voice was hoarse as it squeezed past the colossal lump in my throat.

My feet were glued to the ground, my back pressed against the wall. My body was trying desperately to force me towards the door, but I couldn't move or breathe. My airway was practically closing and the need to scream again was building in my chest.

He wouldn't leave. He wouldn't leave. Why wouldn't he leave?

"Goodnight, Sweet boy. Goodnight."

His grating voice echoed off the walls. The light above us was flickering and buzzing.

And then, his mocking laughter boomed and echoed, along with the rats' vicious chatter as they continued to tear the skin off of the mysterious man.

One of the rats climbed up my pant leg, and I tried to kick it off my leg but it wouldn't. It tore through the fabric of my jeans, and it's teeth easily sliced into my thigh, mutilating my flesh almost as much as His.

I moaned heavily and clenched my teeth together, my mind everywhere. My thighs were covered in bite marks and blood was pouring out - the gash was filled with dark crimson that glistened in the flickering light above me.

Black dots swarmed the edges of my vision but did nothing else. Nausea invaded my turning stomach, and I had to swallow back the bile that crept into tortured throat.

The light went out, and we were left in suffocating darkness.

"Sweet, Sweet Ethan," His voice spoke.

I cried out, my voice thick with agony. "Please, please," I begged.

"Goodnight."

I couldn't go back.

I couldn't.