Walls

Content Warning: This story contains sexual content and self harm. Reader Discretion is advised. 

Squeezing. That's the feeling of living inside the crevasses of this wall. Its a lovely wall, really. It is patterned with a sweetly twisting wallpaper the color of egg shells. The boy who lives in this room is perfect in every way. He is full of hatred, it burns in those dull brown eyes. I like to watch as fat tears pour from them, those pretty eyes. They sparkle when he cries. It makes my blood run hot in my veins. So seductive. Right now he sits, staring at some point along the wall. It's not clear whether he knows I'm here, or whether he just stares at nothing once his tears have dried. He begins to murmur to himself and god I wish I wasn’t trapped behind this cursed wall. I wish I could lean forward to listen to his soft voice.

I pass my days killing mice most often. I’m sure the family thinks that the traps did the trick but they most certainly did not. Instead I have been sustaining myself on the flesh of garbage. This will all be worth my while in the end I’m sure. The boy, Ando, seems to think that my whispers are nothing more than voices in his head. He has gone to doctor after doctor and all have told him the same thing. That it’s merely a disorder of the mind. That he should take these little blue pills and he will hear me no more. Ha! If I was that easy to get rid of would I have a trail of bodies behind me? Foolish boy, he never even stopped to consider that he can only hear me in his bedroom. Still, I love him dearly. I love him more than his own mother.

Pitiful as he is I see so much behind those thick black bangs. I see fire, a great inferno that could raze entire empires if stoked. This boy craves nothing in the world more than love, so I shall love him. How do I know he craves love? Well, as I live in his wall I am privy to many things. Including the wanton sounds of a boy engulfed by lust. I hear his very heart racing as he slashes his palms and strokes himself. I hear the sickening slick of the blood and other fluids. I hear it all. I’m sure he would be ashamed if he knew but the voices chide him not for such actions. Passion is a lovely thing. It is gasoline, and I shall make it my tool.

He returns home once again and falls face first onto his sweat soaked sheets. I hear the sound of his sobs, of his stuttering pants. That vicious hatred rising to the surface as he sits up and hurls his bag. From the bag tumbles all manner of objects. Little things stolen from the object of his immense desire. A bottler of nail polish, several photos, and a shirt. How on earth did he collect these things without being caught? Such a clever boy. “You know… If he really loved you he would understand,” I coo. Ando’s head jerks up and he looks around the room, searching for the source of my voice. Silly boy, I can make my voice come from wherever I please, as I am not bound by human physics.

“Hello?”

“My child, I ache for you. You are so lovely and yet they spurn you.”

His eyes widened but Ando said nothing. Instead more tears welled up in his eyes. “They call me a creep,” he sobbed. I can’t be sure that he was speaking to me but I choose to answer him nonetheless. “You should show them, show them what it really is to be a creep. Strike fear into their hearts.” He stares at me, or at the wall, and nods. “I should,” he mutters.

The next week passes in a flash. Ando comes home late many days out of the week. Planning something simply divine I’m sure. I would do it myself. I’m sure I could strike the fears of god into their hearts, but I think this is something Ando should do for himself. After all it the first step in his transformation. His transformation into something that I can truly love. Something that I can cherish.

When he arrives home on the final day of the second week he is beaming. “I did it,” he cackles. Though I’m not sure what it is he did I sense the satisfaction in his look. The confidence of someone who has reigned victorious. “For that my darling, I am glad.” Though he is but a child to me I shall appeal to his need for intimacy. He slowly approaches the section of wall where I dwell. Have I been found? Slowly, he presses his lips to the wall in a mockery of a kiss. “I know you’re in there,” he murmurs. Ah, such a smart little thing. “Will you ever come out?”, he asks. I choose to say nothing. To leave him wondering. Its a very amusing little game that we are playing.

It does not take long for him to beg, tears in his eyes for me to come out of the wall. For many days I listen to his pleas but they do not move me in the slightest. That would be a very human inclination and human I am not. Instead I feast on the sight of that perfect face streaked with tears. Reddened with misery and desperation, its a flavor that almost rivals blood. Warm ecstasy pools low in my body making my very core quiver. Finally, he stops begging, and when his tears have dried, and his eyes have deadened; I respond. “I will come to greet you the day after the Christmas mass.” His eyes twinkled with anticipation. “I’ll be waiting,” he breathed.

The day of Christmas came swiftly and Ando had been keeping count, so once he had attended his mass he went to bed. As soon as the sun rose the next morning he leapt from his covers and pressed his cheek to the wall.

“Will you come today?”

“Yes, my darling.”

I made a slight tapping against this ever squeezing enclosure and he took a step back. Very slowly and very carefully I tore my way out, emerging like a hatched bird. My body caked in the white dry wall could almost be called angelic. Ando most certainly seemed to think so, as he stared with all the intent and lust of a starved man. I painted a light smile onto my lips. “Hello, sweetheart.”