Black to Black

My eyes were drinking in the blinding darkness. I felt my heart beating fast in my chest, each thud quickening my breathing and increasing the unpleasant build-up of sweat on my palms. My nails dug into his hand; my fingers bound to his in a sudden paralysis. It seemed the same had occurred to everyone else – nobody dared speak, for what if it was simply part of the movie? Speak and you’d ruin the atmosphere. Speak and you would become excluded and asked to leave. So, what if I was asked to leave? I yearned to leave the cinema right now, to run out into the room with the colourful popcorn-stained carpet, illuminated by the flashing lights of the arcade, and know nothing abnormal had happened. It was just part of the movie. I was fine. It had to be just part of the movie. I had to be fine.

I forced myself to jaggedly move my hand and intertwine my fingers with his. I tried to steady my breathing. I tried to compose my thoughts. What was the worst-case scenario? A power cut. Yes – a power cut. And a power cut couldn’t harm me. I just wished he’d speak. His fingers remained numb, woven with mine. I began to rub the back of his hand soothingly, praying he’d stir – he stayed lifeless. I couldn’t even make out the rough shape of his head in the choking obscurity.

“Hello?”

My heart skipped a beat, my breath lingering ominously in the air, hanging on for a reply. I was met with only a cold silence, hope spilling out of me.

Joltingly – with a flash that struck my eyes quite alike lightning – the lights flickered on. Nothing had changed from before, except the fact that I could feel a hundred piercing stares on me. The whole room had their eyes on me. Even he had his eyes on me. I squirmed in my seat, flexing my sweaty hand in his grasp, my head down in embarrassment. I swallowed hard. Did they think I did something?

Wait.

A person. There was a person in front of me. A freakishly-built figure: muscles so large veins popped from them; a deep coppery skin tone that seemed closer to the texture of a metal the way it caught the light; a powerful stance that alone, without me even glancing at their face, I could tell they meant business. And their stare was the strongest; it pierced through me, shuffling through all my fears and memories like they were simple playing cards, to be disregarded. Everything I stood for meant nothing if this figure did not approve. And with every single fiber of my existence, I prayed he approved.

I felt extensive, robust fingers lift my chin up, and suddenly I was hastily taking in what was the person’s face with a histrionic gasp. A man, and such a stunning man it was. His eyes gazed down at me, his intellectual eyes commanding yet a soft chocolate brown. Vivid curls of striking ebony sat agreeably on top of his head, flattering every single feature. He had an impeccably crafted nose right above delicately thin lips, curled into a tremendous smirk. He was smirking at my patheticness, how I sunk into my chair in a throbbing fear, despite how I marveled at his appearance. His look – no, his everything: how he stared deep into my soul, his stance strong and intimidating, how he could terrify me by doing so little at all – was all too sharply familiar. The realization struck me tougher than my palsy when the lights initially turned off. The villain from the movie I had been serenely viewing not long before closed my open jaw gently, his smirk ceaseless.

“I wouldn’t gape, love. Your boyfriend is right next to you.”

I glanced nervously to my side, where my hand continued knotted with his. My eyes widened until I felt as if they were about to pop: blood spooled down his front, deep stains of a rusty crimson. There seemed to be no injury, however I knew for sure he was dead. Lifeless. Gone. His chest was awfully still, and his skin had drained from all the colour it had ever had. And I mean that literally. Once he had had gorgeous deep brown skin, and now all that remained was a thin translucent layer, tangled with veins and capillaries. I swallowed, dismayed. My stomach grumbled in disagreement, nausea swelling inside me. I began to feel light headed and my vision swam. Seeing him like this had opened up an ancient wound I had hoped I would never have to revisit.

Now processing what I had just seen, I tried to scream. I tried to scream a scream that would shake the room. One that would deafen everyone in a fifty-meter radius. Nothing tumbled out my mouth; my vocal cords seemed stuck and rigid. I shook my hand free of his, clasping it with my other one and rubbing it as if I was nursing it back to health.

“Trying to thank me, love? You know, I saw that and thought of you.”

I realised his finger remained delicately placed under my chin. I pulled myself away, but that only forced him to move closer, his horrible smirk right up in my face. My throat tautened with every sly breath he respired onto my face, constricted in dread; I could scarcely make out his elegant features as my vision continued to fail.

“Don’t,” he hissed menacingly, so that none of the still staring onlookers could hear, “try to defy me.”

I yelped desperately. “What do you want? Why me? Why not anyone else here?”

A chuckle echoed menacingly around the room. “Have you ever realised you’d make an incredibly picturesque housing ornament?”

My mouth went bone dry; all senses numb. Not that I had any use for them now, anyway. I looked up to him, my eyes pleading.

“N-no-”

He laughed again. “Surprise, surprise.”

A swift flash of silver, it all returned to black.