0 comments

Mystery Sad Thriller

This story contains themes or mentions of suicide or self harm.

His hand touched mine. It was cold and felt lifeless, like her hand. I pushed myself away from him, moving further and further back before hitting a wall. Tears crept their ways to my eyes, hands shaking violently, and breath going in and out into a panic. I couldn't look at him, he looked too much like her.

The loose curly black hair, dusty silver eyes, and snow-white skin. It couldn't be her, he was different, he wasn't like her. His figure became clearer the closer he approached me. The usual calm and collected turned into worry and panic. I saw him reach his hand up to my face, but quickly dropped it.

I wanted to speak and choke out that he did nothing wrong, but I couldn't find my voice. He stared at me as I sobbed there, in that cold dark room. He quickly got up and secured a blanket from the bed, wrapping it around my bony body.

The shivering subsided as the blanket enveloping me in warmth. It felt like when she would hold me in her arms, whispering those sweet comforting words into my ear.

I could feel the tears welling again, but I brushed them away with the blanket, I can't be thinking of these things. He watched me closely, waiting for me to break again. If one of us breaks, we both will die.

It was quiet, neither of us wanted to say anything. Side by side we sat on the concrete, looking away from one another. I sighed and turned my head to him. He shivers and tightens his hold on himself, trying to shield his body from the bitter cold. His skin seems paler and his lips more cracked than before.

"Do you want to take turns with the blanket?" I asked quietly.

Desperation is painted on his face, I knew he was cold, and neither of us wanted to die from it.

"If you wouldn't mind," he stuttered, teeth clattering.

I throw off the blanket, feeling the bitter bite, and passing it over to him. He quickly snatched it out of my hands, wrapping it over himself, holding it tightly to relieve himself from the icy temperature.

"How long do you think we have been in here for?" he questioned, pulling his knees closer to his chest.

I think over the question, how long were we here for? It was all a blur from the moment I was stolen away from my house where it resides on top of a hill, or as I like to call it, the hill to Hell.

"I don't know, I think I lost count."

He nodded, probably disappointed with my answer, but at least we are conversing. I wonder how he ended up here, even if I don't fully remember how I got here in the first place.

"Why are we here? What does this person or people want from us?" He said, resting his head on his right knee.

I paused, "Life is just cruel, you think someone else is this perfect person, but it's all a lie."

He didn't say anything, maybe he thought I was being pessimistic, but I was only telling the truth. Whether you are alive or dead, you are in Hell.

I was grateful that my thoughts were distracting me from the cold, but it was getting harder to ignore as the minutes went by. Maybe this is how we will die, beside one another in this dark room.

"I can hear your thoughts, we aren't going to die here, at least I won't allow us to," he stated.

He took the blanket off, handing it back to me. Getting up and walking around, he started to look for anything that could help us. His body started throwing things violently around, it reminded me of her. The way she dug her nails into any material that could stop the voices, stop them from crying and taunting her.

"Maybe you shouldn't act so careless," I walked up next to him.

"Well maybe you should stop overthinking and actually try to help for once," he snarled.

"I have been helping, I've been the one with some actual common sense, unlike yourself," I growled back.

His head thrashed towards my direction, eyes no longer filled with pity, but rage. A look I was too familiar with.

"What did you say? Repeat that, I dare you too," he threatened.

"You heard what I said, I don't see why I need to repeat it," I bluntly stated.

He was no longer the person I met originally, he was like her. No, she was gone, she could never haunt me again. I wouldn't allow it.

"You know, I was starting to like you. You reminded me of her," he smiled.

My eyes widened, how did he know who she was? No one knew her, neither in life nor death. I didn't even know her myself.

He slowly reached into his left pocket to reveal a small handheld gun. This is it, this is how I will die. I will die because of her.

"Doesn't this look familiar to you? Instead I am the one holding the gun instead of her," he chuckled, waving the gun around in the air.

His smirk disappeared, gun in hand as he pointed it towards the air. He looked down as a shot went off. It echoed and rang within the small enclosed room. I screamed, even though I knew no one would hear me.

"I don't understand...." I whispered.

"I don't understand."

"I don't understand, I DON'T UNDERSTAND!" I roared.

I was pulling my short brown hair strands, shaking my hands violently on my head, and screaming at the top of my lungs. My body gave out as I fell hard into the concrete. I twisted and turned, digging my fingernails into my flesh.

He started laughing, it was loud. Then I heard more laughing, I looked around the room to find no other person but the two of us. Suddenly, he was no longer holding the gun, she was.

Her features were the same when I last saw her. Hair frizzy and out of place, dull sullen eyes, smile crooked, and red scratches and marks painting her body.

"Why would you do this to me?" she smiled, blood escaping her lips.

"I...I'm sorry....I'm sorry I couldn't.....help," I cried out to her.

I crawled towards her. Small bites of pain itched on my skin, blood dripping onto the floor. My hands to meet her ankles, as I cried out in both pain and anger. I started tugging at her dress then at her arms, until I finally was able to grab ahold of the gun.

"I am...I am so sorry mom, I....just....couldn't."

I tightened the hold on the gun as I brought it up to my head, placing it carefully on the side of my skull. Never thought I would be like her, I told myself I never would. Guess I didn't keep my promise, neither did I keep hers.

The room echoed a second time, but it wasn't from the laughing. The laughing was not there nor it ever was. No one stood in that room, there was one girl and one girl only. He wasn't there, but he lurked in the shadows. Smiling and chuckling at the sight of the lifeless body of the girl.

Good things always come to an end, they say, nothing can stay good forever. That's just life, a cruel game, a game where you never win nor ever beat. Neither in life nor death.

September 23, 2023 02:13

You must sign up or log in to submit a comment.

0 comments

RBE | Illustrated Short Stories | 2024-06

Bring your short stories to life

Fuse character, story, and conflict with tools in Reedsy Studio. 100% free.