I AM THE SILENCE BETWEEN HEARTBEATS

"Did You Hear That?"

I'm talking to you. Yes, you.

Don't pretend you didn't notice. That creak that whispers you tried to dismiss as nothing, it wasn't. I've been watching. Listening. You've felt it, haven't you? That cold shiver crawling down your spine when you thought you were alone. When you told yourself, the darkness was empty. But it's not. And neither am I.

You're not scared? Oh, you will be.

Do you know what bones sound like when they break?

It's not the quick snap you're thinking of. No, it's much worse than that. It starts with a groan, like a branch struggling under heavy snow. Then comes the splinter. Slowly. Jagged. Bones are splitting apart, and fibers are tearing like meat from the bone.

Have you ever heard someone scream while their bones are being shattered inside them?

No? That's the sound I made.

Before I became this.

It wasn't quick. No.

The first bone that cracked?

It was my hand.

I remember feeling the skin tear and muscles snapping like twine stretched to the breaking point. Then, the grinding started. Oh, you don't know the horror of that sound. Teeth on glass, nerves ripped apart, a shriek of agony trapped in your skull.

My ribs didn't just break; they crushed and caved in, one by one, under the weight of the water. Each crack echoed in my ears as the cold flooded my lungs. The air became water, and sweet oxygen traded for salty, thick brine, choking me.

Can you imagine it?

You will.

Picture your fingers bending, folding backward with a sickening crack. One by one, each digit twists until bone bursts through the skin like shards of glass. The agony isn't clean; it crawls up your nerves, searing, pulsing, until your vision blurs and all you see is blood. Red. So much red. And then, when the pain becomes too much to bear, it doesn't stop.

It never stops.

I can feel your heartbeat now picking up. Faster. You're sitting there, reading this, telling yourself it's just a story.

But I'm closer than you think. Close enough to taste the fear dripping off you like sweat. I could drag my nails across your throat right now and feel your skin split under the pressure. Do you think you're safe?

Look at your hands.

Go on. Look.

Did you feel that? The prickling under your skin?

That's me. I'm crawling inside you. Testing you. Tasting you. I want to see how much terror your body can handle before it snaps. And when it does, I'll be there to savor it.

I'm with you now.

Oh, I know you feel it. That crawling sensation under your skin, the burning pressure building in your chest. You're trying to ignore it and breathe steady, but your breath is shallow, right? Because I'm inside your fear. I live in the spaces between heartbeats, in the blood rushing through your veins.

Soon, I'll live with you.

When the lights flicker, the air grows thick with rot, and the cold wraps around your bones, you'll know I'm there.

I'll make sure you do.

Don't look around.

Stay still.

Listen.

The creak, like something crawling in the walls? It wasn't the house settling. I've been waiting for you to notice me. Waiting for you to let me in.

You can't see me, not yet. But you can feel me. That smell, like something festering, rotting in the walls? It's stronger now, isn't it?

That's because I'm closer than ever.

And tonight, I want you to feel me fully. I want you to know what absolute terror is.

What does fear taste like to you?

Metallic?

Like blood in your mouth, thick and coppery, seeping from your gums?

I know that sour, acrid taste is on your tongue right now. You keep swallowing, trying to push it down, but it clings to the back of your throat, doesn't it? You know something is wrong.

Something is terrible.

Breathe deeply.

Go on.

Do you feel your lungs expanding, desperate for air?

Picture them filling with water. Thick, cold, briny water crawls into your throat, clogging your airways and spilling down your chest until your lungs are swollen, heavy, and useless. You want to scream, but only bubbles rise. And they taste like salt and blood.

You try to claw at your throat to free yourself from drowning, but your fingers break under the strain. Snap. Crack. Your knuckles fold inward like brittle sticks.

That was my death. And now I want you to feel it.

You're shaking now, aren't you?

Your palms are slick with sweat, rubbing together to find warmth and friction, but there's none. There's only the cold—the deep, bone-deep cold, sinking in and gnawing at your flesh.

That's me.

Wrapping around you, sliding under your skin. My hands, once warm, are now dead, frozen to the bone. If I touch you, I'll leave marks. Black, festering bruises.

And I already have.

Do you feel it?

The throbbing on your arm, like fingers pressing more profoundly and deeper until the skin splits?

Don't look. It's already too late.

Look in the mirror.

Go on.

See how your eyes have lost their light? How do they seem hollow, dark, and sunken?

That's because I'm draining you, bit by bit. With every breath you take and every second you spend reading this, I'm pulling you closer to me. Soon, when you look at your reflection, you won't be staring back.

It will be me.

Close your eyes.

Hear that sound?

The cracking, crawling, like insects gnawing through wood?

That's what I feel inside you. Burrowing. Eating through your nerves, tearing you apart from the inside, leaving nothing but rot and ruin.

Do you think so? That burning in your chest, that pressure that's building? It's suffocating you, isn't it?

That's what I want.

Now imagine this.

It's the middle of the night. You wake, but you can't move. Your limbs are frozen. You try to scream, but your voice is gone. You hear breathing.

Not yours.

You can taste it on your lips, thick and sour.

And then something touches your foot. Soft.

A finger?

It slides up your leg, leaving a trail of icy numbness that climbs higher. You can't move or scream; all you can do is feel it.

Feel it creeping up your skin, curling around your throat.

That's how it started for me.

I was awake.

I felt it crawl into my lungs, deeper and deeper, until my breath was stolen. I thrashed, my nails splintering as I clawed at the walls, ripping the flesh from my fingers, blood pooling under my nails. But the dark was merciless.

It wrapped around me, pulling me under and swallowing me whole.

Do you feel it now?

That tightness in your throat? Swallow.

Does it feel harder?

Like something's gripping your windpipe, slowly squeezing until all you can do is choke on the darkness. That's me.

I'm inside you now.

I'm watching you.

Watching your eyes flicker to the shadows, hoping nothing's there. But I am. I'm right behind you. Inches away. Staring at the back of your neck.

So close I could reach out and dig my nails into your flesh, feel the skin give way under the pressure, feel the blood pulse beneath my grip.

I could show you more.

The way my fingers shattered as I clawed, desperate to escape. How my eyes bulged, veins throbbing, as the last breath was torn from my lungs. My flesh rotted and peeled away, leaving nothing but the cold, blackened bones beneath.

You're not scared yet? You will be.

Close your eyes.

I'm going to show you what it feels like to die.

Slowly.

Just like I did.