Koichi came very suddenly- very unexpectedly, into wakefulness. The first thing to hit was a sense of panic. His body convulsed, tearing itself from the blankets and yanking him onto his feet all before his mind had a chance to even comprehend that it was, in fact, his body. That lasted for a few moments, compressing his back and palms to the wall and hammering inside his chest like a caged animal. Forcing his breath to come in quiet pants through his mouth. Then there was confusion. He blinked and screwed up his face, trying to understand where he was and why he felt so afraid. Why he'd been in bed. Why he had a bed at all and wasn't sleeping on a futon. How he could see even though there was no light…
It would be nice to say that, after that moment, true wakefulness descended and Koichi remembered the nightmare and came to his senses. That wasn't what happened. Seconds ticked by, congealing into minutes, and still Koichi stood frozen in the corner. Still his heart hammered and his memory refused to work. The tension of a prey animal wired through his limbs, making it difficult to breathe, pulling his attention to something just beyond the plain of reality. Something he'd just seen or experienced. Something that was hunting him. He knew it was there- if nothing else he knew it was there, watching him, waiting for him to make a move. Soundlessly, he scrutinized the darkness, trying to locate the something, trying to remember what that something even was. Nothing moved. Nothing answered him. And as the minutes began to clump together panic settled into unease.
Whatever it was, it wasn't here now. It hadn't followed him from wherever he'd been to wherever he was. At least, he didn't think it had. Koichi didn't understand anything else about the situation, but that thought gave him comfort. Biting his lower lip, he took a tentative step forward, pulling his palms from the drywall. They felt hot and sticky. He wanted to wash them- wash himself. The nightmare had left him feeling dirty somehow, like he'd been running or working or rolling in filth. Or just asleep for a very, very long time.
There was a clicking sound and suddenly the room was filled with light. Koichi gasped in alarm, recoiling into his corner and looking away from the source. But the fear kept his eyes open, driving him to confront whatever was attacking, making him numb to the pain of slow pupil contraction. But no blow ever came. If anything the new light confirmed what he already knew to be true: that he was alone in a room. A room with only one door, apparently. The light was coming from beyond the door, leaking through the cracks around its rim and casting brightness into his otherwise black room. As he watched, it opened, creaking with age and disuse, swinging with ethereally slow speed to allow more light to bathe the white walls in yellow glow. Nothing else came from the door. No sounds, no shadows, nothing.
Curiosity battled fear in Koichi's mind, weighing the pros and cons of investigating. On the one hand he did not know where he was, how he got there, or why he'd been locked in this room. His terror had been real, which meant there was something to be afraid of, even if he couldn't remember what that something was. On the other, he wanted to get out and pragmatism told him the only way had to be through the only door. Swallowing, Koichi gave into reason and peeled himself from the drywall once more. He paused for a moment, wavering, then with an audible and defiant sigh, walked forward and peered passed the door into the light.
His first deflated observation was that it too had only one door: the door through which he was looking. Then the confusion came back as he noticed something else rather odd. At first he thought it was a bathroom, but it had no toilet or bath. Just a mirror directly across from the door and a sink. The sink was a simple porcelain basin perched on a porcelain pedestal, plain and white. A single droplet of water had collected on the tip of the faucet and, as Koichi watched, reached capacity. If fell into the basin with a hollow noise like viscous liquid being disturbed. Another drop joined its brother moments later. And another. And another. The noise was deafening, a singular ripple in the otherwise complete silence that his psyche just couldn't tolerate. As another drop began to collect on the faucet Koichi moved forward quickly, twisting the knobs on either side of the sink in an attempt to shut off the water.
But there was no water on the faucet. Nothing in the sink. Just dry, white, porcelain. Koichi frowned, bemused. He could've sworn… Something creaked behind him. His head jerked up, first looking into the mirror, then throwing a glance over his shoulder to confirm. More nothing. Even so, his sense of unease was intensifying. Where was he! Was anyone looking for him? How'd he even get into a room with no entrance or exit? And, perhaps most importantly, why was he there? Sighing again, this time in exasperation, Koichi did the only thing he could think of. He looked at his reflection and finally found something. Something disturbing… His eyes… they weren't right… He blinked, squeezing his lids together and frowning. Looked again. That couldn't be right. Koichi leaned forward, gripping the cold sides of the sink basin. What stared back at him was dull and soulless. Not quite black but definitely not navy. And they didn't glimmer in the light the way eyes were supposed to. They looked wooden and fake and… all too familiar.
Drip
Koichi's neck snapped down, his eyes instantly focusing on a single point of color. A red bead of liquid rolling down the white, leaving a glistening trail behind it. The breath caught in his throat; his heart stopped. His body was shaking, his palms slippery but not from sweat. Red coated them too, cold and sticky and wet, smeared all over the white glaze. His first instinct was to let go, to recoil from the horror, but the sounds of laughter held him paralyzed. Something was back, and it grabbed a fist full of his hair, pulling his head up with an audible crack. There was nothing but Koichi reflected in the mirror, but it wasn't him! It was smiling coldly, blood oozing from its ears and down its neck. Some got caught on his jaw line and ran along the bone, collecting at his chin.
Drip
"What-" Koichi gasped, releasing the sink to claw at the thing that had a grip on his scalp. Whatever it was held firm. If anything, it cranked him even further forward, forcing his face much too close to the reflective glass. His counterpart smiled, reaching outside the rim of the mirror, searching for something Koichi couldn't see but still dreaded.
"Please," he tried feebly, fingers still curled in his own hair in a vain attempt to thwart the invisible force. "Please, I am begging you. No!" The other paused, giving him a contemplating look that, for a second, made Koichi think maybe he'd gotten through. But no sooner had the thought crossed his mind his reflection was smiling again. He narrowed his gaze at his real counterpart, pressing a blood-coated finger to his lips.
"Shhhh."
Koichi shuddered at the sensation of cold slime against his own lips, trying to pull away from the force. It held him as if entirely unaffected by his struggles. If anything it seemed amused; his reflection laughed again, the sound coming from all around him, licking its bloody finger with the very tip of it's tongue. Bile churned in his gut and Koichi retched at the texture of it. The taste like copper. The sensation of… enjoying it… Reflection-Koichi found whatever he was looking for and his grin grew as he pulled it into his field of vision. And what he held was arguably worse than all the blood: a glass, clear and filled with a black, tar-like liquid. At first Koichi wasn't sure what it was for, then the other brought it to his lips.
The most revolting taste filled Koichi's mouth. He wanted to retch again, to choke and spit the slime out, but his body was in more than one kind of revolt. It was swallowing, gulping and sucking and… savoring. Cold slid down his throat and settled in his stomach like a ball of writhing worms. He coughed, sputtering and clutching his abdomen as if that could contain the quickly spreading sensation of- oh god… The force released him, allowing his body to sink to the floor as his knees gave out. Shivers spasmed through his body as all sorts of things started racing across his mind. Knowledge he hadn't had only moments before felt ancient, common even, and his awareness spread through the room like some invisible blanket. There were people all around him, formless and faceless except for their dull black eyes. The monster in his stomach told him they were his followers, that they were there to bring him back. And there was more- a chair outside. A person in the chair… Restrained and waiting for him.
With sinking horror, he realized he wasn't Koichi at all. He was the one in the chair. Koji pulled against the plastic ties that bound his wrists, grunting with effort, his heart hammering in panic. The faceless people surrounded him, but didn't touch him or even look at him. They manned their posts with a cool apathy that made Koji even more desperate to escape, even though he knew full well there was nowhere to run. There was a rustling sound and someone was standing directly in front of him. Koji's mouth went dry and, for a brief instant, his heart just stopped. Koichi's black eyes met his navy ones, congealed blood coating the sides of his neck and some liquid like oil running from one corner of his mouth. In one blood-streaked hand he held a pick and in the other… a hammer.
"Koichi, don't do this," Koji tried, desperation fraying his voice. "I know you don't want to do this!"
With a slight grin, Koichi brought one browning-red finger to his lips.
"Shhhh."
One of the figures standing behind him grabbed a fist full of Koji's hair, yanking his head back. Another took a firm grip on his jaw, holding him in place. Koji strained and thrashed, but to no avail. Their iron grips held firm. Koichi chuckled in mild amusement, inspecting his pick.
"Come now, Onii-san, don't act so surprised. You knew this was coming. Somewhere inside here," he placed the steel point just above Koji's left tear duct, angling it upwards. "You always knew."
"Please! You have to fight it!" Koji was unabashedly begging now, trying to meet his brother's empty gaze. Trying to believe, as he readied the hammer, that his brother was even still in there. That he could be reached and reasoned with. "This isn't you!"
Koichi paused, frowning. He faltered, his grip on both the pick and the hammer loosening. As if maybe, just maybe, he was reconsidering. But that passed quickly and then he just looked really, really sad.
"Yes it is."
And he struck the head of the pick with the hammer.
Content: disturbing imagery and ice-pick lobotomy