Who to trust?

March 21, 2018
By MentalEscape SILVER, Tyler, Texas
MentalEscape SILVER, Tyler, Texas
5 articles 0 photos 1 comment

Favorite Quote:
All it takes is a beautiful fake smile to hide an injured soul and they will never notice how broken you really are ~ robin williams


I looked him in the eyes as my body began sliding down the wall. He had slashed me with a rusted blade, but I couldn’t feel the pain. It was if my body refused to even notice the sizable gashes on the right side of my body or the fact that I was bleeding out. All I really noticed were his eyes and the slow tone he mumbled as he cleaned up his work.

He held a cold soulless being behind those dark, yet fiery amber eyes. They almost seemed like that of a doll's. Not once separating his eyes from mine, not even to blink.

I knew the song that he was singing. He was singing the kookaburra song. 

“Kookaburra sits in the old gum tree
Merry merry king of the bush is he
Laugh, kookaburra, laugh, kookaburra
Gay your life must be”

The tune wasn’t anything special. Though, it wasn’t what he was singing that held my attention. it was how he sang it. Slow and monotonous. Clear and concise.  Pronouncing each syllable. Nearly sounding mechanical in tone. As if his deep grunted voice had no choice but to sing it.

I couldn’t understand how I could hear him singing with his face covered with his bird like mask. Not one part of the mask moved to even indicate that he was singing and yet he was. He was the only one who could be making any noise.

He had stopped singing and cleaning up the bloody stains of my little brother and just looked at me. His eyes were completely mesmerizing. I couldn’t separate my eyes from him as I watched him walk toward me. He walked in an almost animalistic, twitchy movement.

I wasn’t sure why I hadn’t screamed at that moment, but he was close to me, so close that I could hear him breathing. He had pressed his chest against mine and was just looking me in the eyes. He froze at this point. just staring.

Then, after what felt like hours of just staring at one another, he wrapped his arms around my neck. I tensed up believing this was the end and that he was going to snap my neck. but he didn’t.

I slowly opened my eyes, not realizing that I had closed them, and watched what he did. He laid his masked face on my shoulder and breathed in shallow breaths. I moved to try to get him away from me. It didn’t do much but make him squeeze harder then relax his grip again. It was strange to say the least. One second, I was running through a darken house trying not to die and the next he was very nearly hugging me.

Then, before I even registered what was happening, he let out a sigh and shifted away from me. He stood up and looked down at me. I heard sirens off in the distant and I knew he must have too. He took one last look at me. Then he spoke.

“Who can you trust? Who will help? Who will watch you burn?”

Spoke in the voice of a man who seemed far too depressed to talk. Then he left.

What did he mean by that? Who was I not supposed to trust?

I didn’t have time to think about this, I had passed out from blood loss. I did hear my front door open but I couldn’t move to see who it was. I felt like I had been lifted but by who or what was doing it, I had no clue.

All I noticed in my near comatose state was darkness, that song and his eyes. They were embedded in my memory.

I couldn’t stand the darkness, it distorted the tone and made his eyes look almost rageful in contrast. Then a thought came to me that drowned out all the other noise that swelled in my head. what could he have meant by that? Who can you trust?

I was pulled out of the darkness by a small beeping noise that was almost in sync with my heartbeat. I opened my eyes slowly and looked around. I was in a small hospital room. And that beeping noise was a large heart monitor machine.

The room didn’t look to different from normal hospital room; four white walls, a large window that appeared to be slightly open, two beds [one with me in it and the other empty], and some standard hospital equipment.

I felt like I needed to get up and leave but was halted by the sound of people talking right outside my room.

“...Miss Pomia, I’m sorry I couldn’t save the two young boys.”

‘The doctor was talking to my mother?’

“Can you do anything for Mallia?”

“Ma’am, I have a reputation to uphold and I’m not about to let that be ruined by a girl who’ll die the second I touch her.”

I heard a shuffling outside and I knew that they had left.

‘Why wasn’t she sad when she spoke about us? Why wasn’t she there when this happened? If only she had stayed when I begged her not to leave for work…’ my thoughts were cut short by a soft humming noise, almost like that of a pigeon.

“She should be the one to suffer, not you.”

I jumped when I heard it. A voice coming from directly behind me. I turned slowly not knowing what to expect. Then I saw him. His eyes still bright and piercing through me.

He looked different than the last time I had seen him. He still wore his ever expressionless, bird-like mask, but he was wearing a jet black jacket with rips in it and a pair of jeans with holes in the knees. I could see his gray skin, but I wouldn’t question it, fearing for my life.

I wanted to scream, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t move from my position either. Something was preventing me from doing so.

He walked toward me in his animalistic way, but he did nothing to advance from his position.

I froze, unblinking, for only a moment then he was gone. I breathed a sigh of relief before laying back down on my designated hospital bed.

I had barely drifted into a light sleep when the thoughts of my mother reached my mind again. ‘Why wasn’t she here to help? It might not have been a change in outcome but at least we would have died as a family?’

My thoughts were interrupted again but this time by a scream.

I opened my eyes in a split second, the scream had come from a nurse who was now dangling from the ceiling by her insides. Her blood dripping down on the foot of my bed. It was still warm as it spilled on my feet.

I wasn’t fazed by this, though. I was slightly upset that it now stained my feet, but other than that I felt nothing for this.

I drifted back to sleep again. I could head others scream. But I refused to open my eyes to see what had happened. I heard the doctor himself cry for mercy, but it seemed that who ever was acting on this wasn’t about to let him leave. Then, I heard the pained screams of my own mother.

I cracked a smile at the sound. She would feel the pain that I had felt when she wasn’t there. My eyes drifted open in the middle of her screams. I saw my own hands wrapped tightly around a loop of her intestines. I ripped out the qivering organs and she bled out quickly.

He was standing over me watching everything, his eyes getting more fierce by the second.

I looked behind me and noticed the carnage that I had caused. I laughed. It was strange to laugh at this. Yet, I felt cold and empty, I grew quiet, so I began a slow stroll through the blood spattered hallway.

I walked slowly down the hallway until I saw a doctor I had assumed to be the one who wanted me dead. He had been ripped limb from limb and was otherwise unrecognizable as a person, but amongst the pile of gross flesh and bone was a small file.

It took a minute for me to get it out from under his severed torso and apon searching through, it belonged to a name I didn't know.

Angel Helfond.

The name was weird to me, but I knew that it wasn’t good to just leave it with his, already beginning to smell, corpse, so I took it with me. After all, who ever it was was probably dead like the rest of the people here.

I continued walking until I realized I was lost in an empty hospital. I walked into a random room which must have been some sort of lounge judging by the now broken coffee maker in this corner and the many dented chairs surrounding a splintering wooden table.

I saw a mirror in the hanging precariously against a far wall, only held in place by a single screw.

I could see myself, nonetheless. My shoulder length black hair was soaked a deep red color and I was wearing a very childish pink and flower covered hospital gown that just barely reached my knees, it seemed weird to me, seeing as I was almost 16. My thin figure looked so much smaller with the lack of actual clothes to cover up with.

Then the reflection changed. I was still standing in the center it was what was behind me that was different.

I turned to make sure I was seeing right. Behind me was the same room I had left behind, but the reflection showed a different room all together. In fact, it probably wasn’t even the same building. It was too homey to be a lounge at a hospital.

Then a man ran in. He was scared for some reason. He quickly gathered what he could but he never made it through the door. I could see the fear swell in his eyes as he was thrown on the floor by the very person who attacked me.

His mask and his eyes being the only proof I needed.

He shoved the man down and began to carve what looked like wings into the man’s sides. Making a point to give me the full view of every detailed and dripping cut he could place on this man.

The man lay on the ground not moving at this point. He wasn’t facing me, but it was still obvious that he was alive, probably not for long.

The person who had hurt me before, he stood still, staring back at me, singing that same song. I could see every detail of him and his gray skin.

He was still wearing the black ripped jacket and hole covered jeans. On his feet were a pair of black and possibly white tennis shoes, the blood on them made it hard to tell.

His mask, I had never noticed how realistic it was. It had very evident feather like grooves and was a shade of what was possibly yellow at some point, but is now a gross orange, that waned into a grungy white color that surrounded the elongated, almost comical, beak structure. The mask covered every part of his head and neck, except for his eyes.

I was too focused on his details that i didn’t notice his movement toward me. He walked static-like and animalistic.

His reflection was right next to me when i noticed he was there. I turned slowly to meet his gaze. We stared at each other, but only briefly.

He slumped down on his knees and held me still. He took the file, I had long since forgotten, from my hands and read it slowly. He looked back at me, the amber of his eyes looking drained, and whispered very quietly a few short words.

“He was Angel and I am Hell fond.”

He handed me his knife, the very same one he used on me, still covered in rust and blood, and disappeared in a single blink.

I was found the next day still sitting in the lounge, the blade still clutched tightly in my hand.

I was put through court, even though I was barely 16, and the sentence, I had to spend the rest of my life in a ward. The plea was perfect for me.

Insanity.

After 4 years spent here, I might just agree that I am insane. After all, nothing on the cameras proved the existence of a mask wearing man. And as far as I knew, I was the one who killed my mom and I was the one who was holding the knife when the police were called.

No one knows how a girl my size could have possibly ripped a man limb from limb or hung an innocent from the ceiling like that.

As for now, I sit calmly in my little room barely listening to the women telling me how life is going outside the ward. Her voice just meshed together with the other small noises around me. I’d need to ask someone for help but I can’t stop hearing someone right outside my door. They were singing that old tone. The one about the kookaburra.

“Kookaburra sits in the old gum tree
Merry merry king of the bush is he
Laugh, kookaburra, laugh, kookaburra
Gay your life must be”


The author's comments:

this is my outlet and I know horror isn't for everyone but I hope atleast a few people get just as exited as I do.


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