He was tired. So tired he had to pace to force himself awake. Those taunting, beady eyes and identical silhouette were mocking him as he traced a maze around the room. He should smash that mirror, but he was far too tired. He continued his pacing, back and forth, never out of sight of the mirror.
You want it, It grinned, loving to torment and muse blossom on the wielder's face. I can see it. C'mon. Unleash me. Crack me open. Use me.
Ignoring the daemon, he walked. And walked. And walked. His feet didn't hurt and he was shocked they didn't have bleeding blisters from his shoes, and that the hardwood floor didn't have a course etched in from his consistent wandering.
He was hungry. But It made sure to keep his hunger away at the moment. Only lust and darkness and nothingness clouded his gut.
You're not hungry for food, It persuaded, staring, yellow eyes glued to the cinnamon-haired boy. You're starving for blood, desire, need. C'mon. Stop being so difficult. Let me out. Stretch my wings. Smash something. Smother someone. I wonder what that Kairi girl would look like…on the bottom of the sea?
The boy couldn't ignore that.
"Shut the hell up!"
The figure froze, petrified in time in the mirror's surface, then it melted to become one with the floor.
Peace. Silence, quiet, solitude, white noise. Nothing in the world could have sounded better. Beautiful, cleansing, delicious -
Oh, this is nowhere near the deliciousness you'll taste in a minute.
Black screened his vision and the last thing he heard was his own menacing laugh.
Opening his eyes, he was blinded by light. Bright, brilliant light, like staring at the sun. But it wasn't the sun. It was a room. A crystal clear, pearly white room, pictures posted on the walls, but you couldn't tell what they were because they were painted red; a dark red, like a thick mahogany.
Like…
He examined the room further. Red, red, a splash of white or colour from crayons, but all he saw was red. Crimson curtains, glossy scarlet floor, rosy flower pot sitting on a stained table, pallid as the rest of the room, next to what looked like a girl. A young girl: blonde hair spilling over her shoulders, porcelain skin crusted with red that matched the smears engulfing her bone white dress; scratched limbs and scratched flesh as if she had been in a tough strangle with pointed fingers. And lost horribly.
The sight blinded him once more but not from brilliance - from raw horror and shock. Yet, as repulsive as it was, the copper taste threatening to slide itself on his tongue and slippery floor tripping him was… delicious.
I told you, It smiled, trapped in his own straightjacket as white as the walls once were. Don't resist it.
What was he to do? He couldn't hold back.
He never saw light again.