The 13th Man–Chapter 2

Meeting With The Devil


Sleep barely visits the night. I applaud such capacity as required by my job. Research here and there. Calls to nocturnals of my kind comforted by their sleazy couch, and if you can’t get lazy enough, maybe in bed. And what could be a better way to afford the luxury of feeding social anxieties without rotting in preserved cadavers called canned meats but through web opportunities. The commonality among professional web enthusiasts is no secret. In behavioral sense, they discovered the frugality of secret society developed online. Everyone is exhibitionist as opposed to real world moving inhabitants. You can be your unethical or unbearable self. You can be who you claim to be, (that which your peers ridiculously mock). You can easily find a carnal partner, and/or virtual lover without the complexities of loyalty and transparency. I, a misanthropist by choice for the love of mankind’s safety, have to devour my space called disconnection. I have only started clipping the facts of one’s profile. I might have to give in to solitude sleep..that as far as I could hope for.

Darkness hears nothing but gasp. Is it me? Is it death possessing my body? Chill starts running down my spine. Where am I? Why am I in this darkness? This feeling weighs no boundary between reasoning and delusion. Suddenly, a glint of white starts moving from afar. Hanging in mid air. It draws closer like it was coming after me. I couldn’t move an inch. My feet are nailed, burning from retaliating fear. The unknown object finally becomes clear, frozen from a step away wanting to just let me see. A woman, decomposing in mud color, shaking herself from hanging. Her eyes are the only sounds I hear speaking through subconscious,

“You killed them,” Voice as cold as no one’s soul. Crying in monotone as it pauses with exhaustion. “You must find to see.” A loud shriek housed empty space transcending endlessly until it became mine.

My head hurts. I realized I had fallen from bed. Pillows and sheets which have been my utmost bedtime companion were wrecked as is my sentido. When will this ever stop? It was the same nightmare since I was 16. Familiarity over it took the once virgin fear to anxious interception. I don’t know who she is but she’s definitely not my mother.

Holocaust of buzzing interrupted the night. Ugghhh! I thought I’ve turned this shit on mute! It was James. One of them. I can only afford brief terms of acquaintance. Rule is, date once every two weeks if he has been manageable, and never again if he attracts complications. Complication is associated to attachment, persistence and long term. Not that I’m enjoying this but it’s for my sake and whoever’s sake. I finally picked up,

“Yeah?” a woke-up tone is probably the best put-you-off casual riddance

“Sorry if I seem to wake you up. Just want to know if you want to grab some dinner, maybe hang out?” he said in a not-so-confident voice.

“I don’t go out on Sundays. Told you that,” I’m getting more impatient dealing with bargaining. This will lead to nothing good.

“I know. But I still want to try, “ followed by a sigh that belled warnings in my ear. “In case you don’t notice, I like you and want to–” And before he could say more,

“Stop! I don’t want this kind of shit.” Hard as the big chunk forced on his throat.

He finally broke the usual resistance. It was his make or break I guess, “What are you scared of?” This time, it was firm and demanding, a candid poison to spur an interest. This is one of the more reasons I should hang up. So I did. This is his end. Better than death.If I’ve known earlier, it could have saved more lives.

Running away isn’t always easy. Moment like this often fleetingly dismays a quiet mind with nightmares…asleep or not.

I don’t have faith in you. You could fly away like any second, sneak in and out like a cat..” he smirks melting the coldness inside me, “bite like a venomous spider. But I have faith in us. That this is given whether we want it or not,”

Stop! Just stop it or I would have to feed myself again..

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Abby Mabb

Snarly female. Occasional book reviewer.

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