I Remember...
Long, strong fingers grazed up against the glass on the window, brushing the sheer, but blood red curtains off to a side. The window was pushed open, and a cool night's breeze filled the room. The strong man breathed in the crisp air, falling back onto the cottony black sheets that were strewn about on his bed.
He could remember it all. The harsh pain that stung at his ears when he heard a cry of agony. The rush through his head as he entered each horrid, unpredictable room. The heat from his body as he glanced around at the blood-painted walls. Yes, each memory was still in his mind.
Hot sweat poured down his forehead and cheeks, taking another deep breath. He could also remember how they welcomed him. He entered the dark pit, and he could hear the voices in his head. What he didn't know was whether they were cries of help, or a mocking laugh.
"Dante..."
It was horrible. Each step he took, they beckoned him on. Whether they were cheering him on, or trying to discourage them, he heard it all. ...And he wish he didn't.
The wind blew harder into the small room now, and it sent a chill down his spine. Looking past the platinum hair that was covering his face, he looked up at the full moon that was shining through the open window. He stood up and slid his jet-black boxers down his aching legs, sore from stress, and kicked them aside, collapsing back onto his bed, letting the cool night's air caress every part of his body.
"Dante..."
He could even hear it in the safeness of his own room. An entire month had past, and he was still having trouble sleeping at night. He closed his bloodshot eyes, still trying to dismiss the pictures in the back of his mind that haunted him.
He turned his head to the side, groaning loudly, the sharp air almost painful against his rough, dry skin. He slowly sat up, sliding his knees up against his bare chest, and held them close to him, burying his face in them.
Nothing could make him better now. Now he could see his face. The face of his true enemy. It was indeed him. Mundus. Leering down at him, knowing that he had won, even if he was banished again.
Mundus continued to haunt him daily, and he was now afraid to be alone with his imagination. He could see him everywhere... He could remember everything... His face, his laugh, his crushing attacks...they were all plastered in his memory.
His breath now shallow, he could feel tears streaming from his eyes. He was now victim to his own fears. He was no longer in control of himself. He was... more human than he thought.
The last thing he could remember was the sound of wind, the sight of Mundus's face, the taste of his salty tears, and the touch of bitter wind nipping at his bare flesh. ...Then he blacked out.
Long, strong fingers grazed up against the glass on the window, brushing the sheer, but blood red curtains off to a side. The window was pushed open, and a cool night's breeze filled the room. The strong man breathed in the crisp air, falling back onto the cottony black sheets that were strewn about on his bed.
He could remember it all. The harsh pain that stung at his ears when he heard a cry of agony. The rush through his head as he entered each horrid, unpredictable room. The heat from his body as he glanced around at the blood-painted walls. Yes, each memory was still in his mind.
Hot sweat poured down his forehead and cheeks, taking another deep breath. He could also remember how they welcomed him. He entered the dark pit, and he could hear the voices in his head. What he didn't know was whether they were cries of help, or a mocking laugh.
"Dante..."
It was horrible. Each step he took, they beckoned him on. Whether they were cheering him on, or trying to discourage them, he heard it all. ...And he wish he didn't.
The wind blew harder into the small room now, and it sent a chill down his spine. Looking past the platinum hair that was covering his face, he looked up at the full moon that was shining through the open window. He stood up and slid his jet-black boxers down his aching legs, sore from stress, and kicked them aside, collapsing back onto his bed, letting the cool night's air caress every part of his body.
"Dante..."
He could even hear it in the safeness of his own room. An entire month had past, and he was still having trouble sleeping at night. He closed his bloodshot eyes, still trying to dismiss the pictures in the back of his mind that haunted him.
He turned his head to the side, groaning loudly, the sharp air almost painful against his rough, dry skin. He slowly sat up, sliding his knees up against his bare chest, and held them close to him, burying his face in them.
Nothing could make him better now. Now he could see his face. The face of his true enemy. It was indeed him. Mundus. Leering down at him, knowing that he had won, even if he was banished again.
Mundus continued to haunt him daily, and he was now afraid to be alone with his imagination. He could see him everywhere... He could remember everything... His face, his laugh, his crushing attacks...they were all plastered in his memory.
His breath now shallow, he could feel tears streaming from his eyes. He was now victim to his own fears. He was no longer in control of himself. He was... more human than he thought.
The last thing he could remember was the sound of wind, the sight of Mundus's face, the taste of his salty tears, and the touch of bitter wind nipping at his bare flesh. ...Then he blacked out.