premade profile by Chen
blood image by sagacious

oh god what have i done

He could hear it. Indistinct whispering, a laughter so close it seemed to brush on his up on his neck. Noises.

He had been his mother's favourite. She had lashed attention and gifts onto him like there was no tomorrow. But then there was no more tomorrows for her and Devlend had to deal with the consequences. His siblings hated him, and when he was 17 and they'd all finally moved out he was relieved. It was just him and his father. But now there was someone else.

At first it was just a passing noise that was easily ignored. Devlend had dealt with strange little noises in his head since he hit puberty, and had always been assured this happened to everyone. Everyone hears noises sometimes, his father had once said. It's when you can't tune them out it becomes a problem.

But once his siblings had left, Devlend had less time wasted attempting to escape their constant ridicule and occasional beatings and more time alone, in the quiet. Thinking. And the noises started to get harder to tune out.

He managed to ignore it for a couple of years, just about. After all, it was just quiet little whispers. Not even real words. They were getting worse though. Louder. I'll take a walk, he thinks. That will clear my head. So he takes a walk.

It is spring. The air is soft as clouds and the sun is muted but warm. There is a breeze that grows steadily colder as the evening draws in. Devlend will be 20 in a couple weeks and this is what he's thinking about as he rearranges his coat collar. The wind pulls up a slip of paper and it catches inside his jacket. Devlend pulls it out and examines it, still distracted. Will his siblings be back for it? Does he even want them to be? As he is considering this the previously clean paper bleeds ink, sharp lines forming a word: KILL.

Devlend jumps. He snatches his hand away from the paper and it falls onto his shoe. Devlend kicks at it but the paper is persistent. Eventually, hand shaking, he picks it up and looks at it. Flips it overand slowly back.

It's blank. Devlend swallows.

A crawling paranoia heats his scalp and Devlend looks around. He is completely alone. Even the noises in his head have stopped. He looks back at the paper. He hesitates, then stuffs the slip into his pocket and hurries home.

~*~

His hand is shaking. The liquid is cooling and drying. He is breathing very heavily.

KILL, said the first piece of paper. He hadn't done it. DEAD, said the second. He'd ignored it. Bleed, whispered the gentle voice in his ear. Bleed. And he had. He'd hurthimself at first, but that wasn't enough. MORE, said the third piece of paper. So Devlend got a hold of his neighbour's cat. AGAIN. So Devlend ran over a fox.

But it wasn't enough.

Devlend found himself on a train. He disliked public transport because he had a tendency to twitch and whimper and people stared at him. He chose a seat across from someone and kept his eyes on the floor. Look up, it whispered, look at her. He looked up and... oh.

This girl. She seemed to glow.

Her. It's her. Devlend stared at the girl until she became uncomfortable and moved seats. Devlend stayed staring rigidly ahead. And when the girl got off a few stops later, Devlend had also risen and stepped onto the platform. He had followed ten steps behind, down a deserted road and into a park. It was dark, and Devlend was catching up to her. His legs seemed to be working independently of him, moving quieter then he could have ever done by design. Eventually he caught her and she turned and she screamed. He overpowered her easily, and the voice's laugh drowned out the screaming.

And his hand is shaking. The liquid is cooling and drying. And he is breathing, very heavily.