18. Mayhem in Mind

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"Indeed, every darkness has its day"

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Matt stood on the corner of the black and white checkered floor of the asylum, unmoving. He was inconspicuously hidden amongst the shadows, the darkness blanketing him.

Somewhere in the corner of his conscious mind, he knew he was in a dream. A well known hellish dream that visited him every other night. But this time it was different. Unlike the 'conventional' dream where he was the 'hero', this time he was a mere spectator.

Matt stared at the scene, pale and with no emotions. Committing a sin was as painful as a deathly wound, but having to witness it was like adding salt to it.

Everything happened in slow motion. The other Matt had his famous ruger redhawk positioned at the opposing party, the Slay dogs. Alongside him, Edward's fingers slowly grabbed the knob and reloaded his revolver, his hawk eyes never leaving them out of sight.

The Slay dogs were dressed in gear, the colour of blood, their faces concealed by a mask that showed nothing but their eyes. There were seven of them, armed heavily with cold weapons.

The victim, a little boy aged seven was surrounded by the gang, his mouth and hands tied by a rough cloth. The boy trembled in fear, his face tear-stained. Two rifles were aimed above his head, one on either sides of him.

No, don't do it. Matt chanted, wishing he wasn't here to witness the blood bath.

He closed his eyes, unable to see anything more.

"We didn't come for the boy," Matt heard his other self shouting. "We came for you."

Unnerving silence filled the void of tension, just like the calm before the storm. All of a sudden, there was a sound of gunshot preceded by a shrill cry and a dozen more gunshots heard. Matt had not opened his eyes yet, for the fear of seeing the same nightmare again.

"Matt!" Edward shouted. "It's not your fault."

Matt grit his teeth, unable to hear anymore of this verbal torture. And then, something unusual happened. Behind his closed lids, he heard a slight movement. The crunching sound of glass, as if someone had trampled a shard of broken glass on the floor.

Matt opened his eyes, trying to get a clear view of the intruder. By the time his eyes refocussed to the blinding light, the person was already leaving. To Matt's dismay, all he could see was the silhouette, making it even difficult to distinguish gender.

Someone was here.

Matt got up with a start, his head pounding like a drum. He was sweating profusely, his shirt soaked in sweat. He stared at the plain wall infront of him, calming his chaotic heart. The clock ticked painfully slowly, the room dimly lit.

He got up from his bed, belatedly realising he was still in clothes and went to the bathroom for a cold bath.

It wasn't your fault.

Matt turned off the shower with gritted teeth, the cold water that was intended to clear away the mayhem in his mind wasn't helping in any sort of way. He got out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around him, changed to a thin black shirt and khaki shorts and decided to make breakfast.

With his body still slightly damp over his shirt, he went downstairs to the kitchen. His penthouse had two floors, the upper floor had the master bedroom, the sitting room and a mini bar and the lower floor had a couple rooms along with the guest room, the main hall and the kitchen, his current destination.

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