Mon âme

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Voices begin to whisper into my ears. Each one coaxing me to shut my eyes and give in to this strange assault. I know I can't though. Only god knows what would happen if I did. I use all the rest of my nonexistent energy to keep my eyes open; trying to get my eyes to adjust to the pitch-black hall but as they do, I instantly wish they hadn't.

A shadow of a figure starts to approach me in the darkness and for a moment I think it might be Atlas. That he could have found me and is coming to save me from this unimaginable torture. But just like every other sliver of hope I've obtained, it is ripped from my gasp with in a fraction of a second.

I choke and splutter more as the figures glowing eyes appear in front of me. I must be dreaming. This has to be one of my twisted nightmares. That's the only explanation I can come up with for how I am unable to move and why my night demon is standing in front of me.

The demon kneels in front of me so that we are at eye level, then reaches its undefined hand towards my face. It grazes my chin, sending a literal shock of electricity through my body. My insides seem to tighten with a mixture of fear and pain, making me try to take in a much-needed breath of air. Yet no oxygen makes its way to my lungs.

Then without any warning -nor my permission- my eyes shut. I expect the pain to stop or even for my sight to become blank, but it doesn't. The pain increases, burning my insides that are dying for air, and my vision contains moving beings with no real faces.

I hear a familiar evil laugh vibrate through my ears and the whispers stop. The only thing being left is the sound of heavy breathing in front of me.

"I am the painful truth, mon âme. It is now that you must learn of me." A deep terrifying voice speaks and I feel strong hands grip my shoulders.

My throat is suddenly cleared and I gasp in a large breath. I keep my eyes shut and try to focus on the heat gathering in my lungs.

"Who are you?" I choke out, my voice gurgled with metallic liquid.

I feel a pair of lips graze my ear and I want nothing more than to jump out of my skin and run.

"I am death." He whispers in my ear.

Terror enters my gut and I let out a very audible gasp. My body freeze over into a petrified state. My eyes snap open, expecting to meet the eyes of death himself but instead I am met with a semi empty room.

I am no longer in the hall anymore. My vision is hazy but I can make out that I am in a familiar bedroom. The walls seem to glimmer with fog and my mind is dizzy with confusion. I know this can't be real. It almost seems like a memory painted over with a thin piece of iridescent paper.

I stand from my knees, swaying a little once my feet are grounded. Across the room from me, a tall figure comes into focus. It's Atlas. He's wearing his normal attire of jeans and a button up white shirt. He's holding a bundle of something in his hands and his gaze is faced downwards. Towards something I can't quite see.

I open my mouth to yell out his name but nothing comes out. My throat begins to pulse.

I can hear somebody enter the room but I find that my head won't turn on my own accord. So, I leave it in place and just stare at Atlas. Willing him with my eyes to look at me.

"Ira." He says to the person; I guess that's who came in. "Please burn these for me, and speak to no one of this." Ira comes into my view and takes the bundle from his hands.

As they are passed over a piece falls to the ground, my eyes instantly zone in on it. With closer inspection I can see that it's some sort of light pink material... it's my shirt. The one that I wore on that day that I traveled up to the clock. That fateful day.

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