Hide and seek

Written in response to: Write a story about a late bloomer.... view prompt

0 comments

Crime Mystery Thriller

Warning *14+ Recommended*

Trigger Warning

Violent descriptions

May be depressing

There was a quiet hum of the fan as I wandered through the corridors. My eyes searched every corner, every nook that was visible to the human eye. Where could it be? 

I searched for memories that were once mine, and mine only. These memories were tucked away, safely in a trunk. Most importantly, it was silent. 

A small noise awakened me, sitting in a chair next to a burning fireplace. I feed the fire, absorbing the warmth. I feel the bricks, the stories that they could tell. The walls, cracked, showed me a story that no one else would know. I open up the case file, slowly, so as to not disturb the stories inside it. 

I keep searching for the memories. “You won’t find it” a voice says. I know this voice, deep inside me. Know it so well that I almost think it's real. My chest tightens, and my fists clench. I try breathing, but it’s too hard. The air catches up to me. I start to hear wheezing, and I struggle to take a breath. 

So I stopped.

10…

9… 

8…

7…

6…

5…

4…

3…

2…

1…

I take a breath.

The file was of Oliver Park, a 19 year old. They worked at a bookstore, on Park Lane. Oliver wasn’t different. They led their life like every other person. Until August 12. Their lonely existence only served one purpose. To die. And he did. 

His body was found one week after his death, a painless one, as it was described. Luckily, he had had the least painful death of all the victims. The chain was terrifying. Most had been subjected to torture, the types that kept you screaming at night. And this lasted for not days, but weeks. But Oliver was different. His mind was enough.

His anxiety and OCD was enough to make his life a living hell. He couldn’t live with himself anyways. 

I walk through the corridors, once more, hoping to find something. I run my fingers through the cracks, as I did yesterday. 

I hear a sound

Something cracks from the strong winds. I find a body, limp, with soulless eyes staring at me

The sun sets as I put my earphones in. I started listening to the new album by Beauts. I see a figure in the distance. They struggle to breathe. The figure starts drowning, hopelessly waving their arms around.

A slow realization comes to mind. The person struggling is my brother, Oliver. A three time swim champion.

I jump into the water and start swimming. I try doing a half-right CPR technique, only to know it’s too late. 

The death certificate was too real to be true. "Death by drowning". What had happened to the 2 bedroom apartment and Brown university? What had happened to becoming agents together?

I broke down. Each part of me was torn apart and ripped into shreds. My dreams, shattered. all my plans were thrown into chaos.

It took me 3 years to piece everything together again. Each shard of memories was put into a box, and locked away, not to be seen again.

Do you ever have nightmares? The sweat drips from every pore, resonating with the fear inside you. You struggle to breathe , clawing at the end of your bed , hoping it will give you a refuge. A refuge from the hell you live in. A refuge from the monsters, not under your bed, but rather inside you. 

You hide, while they seek. Is it enough? Surely not. But you know. You know that this won't last forever, and eventually the monsters will catch up to you. I don't have nightmares, I am one.

The struggle to become someone is real. I waited 10 long years, but no one came. That's when the voices started. 

"You don't deserve this", they would say, the blood on my hands getting darker by the second. The demons were the seekers. I hid, just like I was meant to. 

Do you ever lie? When an urge comes over you, to put on a mask and hope everything will turn out fine. After all, the demons will come if you don't. The urge to just lie, to make yourself seem better in front of others. They don't need to know about your problems . 

Lies are inescapable. You keep lying to cover up another lie, until you forget the truth. Eventually, your life becomes a lie. You feel like you're an imposter, trying to copy movements of another. A sense of identity is lost, while trying to become someone who you will never be. The slow but vicious cycle continues.

You keep to yourself, pushing away any hope that dares to enter your abode. You know it is wrong, but you do it anyways. The vines start to grow, covering up your existence.

In the beginning, you wonder when the flowers will bloom. Later, you realise that they won't.

The demons whisper the lies and they become so ingrained into you, that they are a part of you. Lies flow through your blood, every vein and every drop. It's all filled with lies, waiting to burst outside.

The demons don't hesitate to grow. They claw at you, making your guilt increase by the minute.

But what if I get found by the demons seeking me? What if there was a way to escape this? I found the answer. Death. Everyone dies eventually. Mine would just come a little early.

I raise the weapon, ready to strike.

I stop.

What if I survive? The demons would find me. The hell would be worse. As I realize this, I put the weapon down. 

But the puddle of blood grows. It grows into a river, and into . I'm drowning.

I'm drowning in the pool of blood, created by the demons seeking me. There is no way to escape this. So I joined it. I accept the demons as a part of me. I join them, interacting with them every day. Oliver was never real. Dead for the past decade. The demons clung onto Oliver, making sure he never left me. 

Until now.

I was free from Oliver, and all the pain that came with it. I was Agent 457, and I was ready to let go. I was always a late bloomer, my flowers had started to grow.

December 22, 2021 23:47

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

0 comments

Bring your short stories to life

Fuse character, story, and conflict with tools in the Reedsy Book Editor. 100% free.