The Unnamed

TW: contains themes and images of abuse, drug usage, suicide, and self-harm

A shadow, obscured by a veil of golden fog, approached Xavier. It spoke, but the words did not come from the creatures mouth, rather, the sound echoed and sprinted across space, before finally entering Xavier’s ears.

“What have you done?” the sound echoed, barely recognizable as a voice, much less a human one. It was more refined, free from any blemishes or waverings in tone.

Xavier approached the shadow and placed his hand on the wall of golden mist.

His eyes were full of tears and his voice trembled with sniffles and sobs, “I’m sorry.”

“Why did you give up?”

“I–” his voice faltered. He didn’t have the heart to say he couldn’t take it anymore, that it was slip after slip—mistake after mistake.

The figure placed its hand on the glass-like barrier. The fingers were made of blackened smoke, the wisps of it curling and whipping backward through the air before disappearing into the fog.

“You need to learn,” the voice echoed.

“What? Learn what?” Xavier scrambled to think. He came up with nothing.

The shadow removed its hand from the wall and started walking away, “Your fear. It’s your fear.”

“No! Don’t leave me!” Xavier shouted. He pressed his body against the barrier. He stepped backward and slammed his body into it. A force exploded from the veil and knocked him on his back. Xavier curled into a ball, stifling his sobs with his sleeve, not bothering to wipe his tears nor open his eyes. He knew he was alone.

*************************************************************************************************************

Xavier felt a cool, light blanket creep over his body. Tiny droplets of water formed on his skin, and the ground felt cold. Xavier opened his eyes and got to his feet. He stood in a void as black as the infinite depths of space. As far as the eye could see, there was nothing. No suns glimmered. No shooting stars streaked across the sky.

But not all was dark. Xavier’s world was still lit by a faintly luminous, twisting smoke that crawled along the ground, climbing up and falling from his jeans, gently spreading a layer of frost that made him shiver. Xavier began to panic. He searched for anyone that could stop him from being alone.

But Xavier was not alone.

A loud, deep bang rang across empty space, and heavy footsteps clunked into the floor. The air got colder. A high-pitched squealing reverberated off the floor. The piercing sound filled his ears, his mind overflowed with terror, and tension filled his muscles. It grew silent and still, and the particles in the air froze mid-twist and twirl. Xavier let out a slow, quiet exhale, forcefully halting even the tiniest sound. It all stopped.

A quiet, close whisper of air released from the void before him. Xavier knew the sound too well; that breath was someone’s last. Xavier stood paralyzed as he watched a mass form from the darkness in front of him.

A wisp of white smoke swirled out from behind the blackness, and the footsteps resumed like boots of pure iron. The tendrils of vapor danced around the void, spreading itself in a ritual-like dance, turning the world a ghostly white, misery oozing from every atom. 

A long, curved, metal object slowly emerged from the screen of white: hands of bone gripped a long wooden handle to a midnight-dark, curved scythe that dripped with a thick liquid. The creature emerged from behind the fog. Xavier’s heart raced, but his body refused to move. He was at the monster’s mercy. 

It was draped in a black cloak, shrouding its gaunt body from him. It’s breaths were shaky and sparse, feeding on the deaths of souls to survive. There was an unmissable discontinuity. Hundreds of thick syringes stuck out haphazardly from the creature’s cloak, and a brown liquid slowly leaked from them. A debilitatingly cold air radiated from the monster. Xavier started turning blue.

“Fine!” he pleaded with his body, “I’ll run!”

Xavier sprinted away, fighting his weakened system. His heart pounded. His feet trembled, threatening to collapse and leave him for the monster. 

Suddenly, swarms of materials flew in from all directions. Metals slammed into bricks and wood. Shards of glass rose and combined into windows. A molten mass of brass squeezed together, forming a doorknob. Xavier’s childhood home was right in front of him.

Xavier approached the door. His heart pounded and leaped across his chest, his lungs screamed in pain, but what was in front of him was worse, and he didn’t know if he could take it. Xavier took a deep breath, opened the door, and walked inside.

“I’ll call them!” a voice cried, “I’ll do it!”

“Call em,” a deep voice growled, “You call em, and Xavier never comin back. They’ll take em away; and you can’t bear thinkin that, can ya?”

Thoughts rushed into Xavier’s head. Terrible, terrible things that wracked him with pain. He fell to the floor and began tearing at his hair.

“Don’t come any closer!”

“Do you care about em more ‘n me? Me?”

“Don’t make me–”

“You relly pitchin a fit over that worthless little brat?”

A slap pierced the air and a dull thud followed, each sound making Xavier shudder. 

Maybe I can just get around him

Xavier rounded the corner. His mother was collapsed on the floor, blood trickling down her face. Xavier stopped in his tracks. He thought he could just walk past it, and yet here he was, unable to escape his house of horrors. 

Xavier kneeled down and grabbed his mother’s hand and found himself in a spot he had been many times before. Xavier heard the fridge open and the distinct snap of a beer. 

“Why’re you actin all surprised?” his adoptive father snarled, “You know what you’re doing to this family.”

Xavier’s throat squeezed together. His father put down his drink and approached him. Xavier's fingers started twitching.

“Say something, boy.”

Xavier took a step forward. His brain rattled off thoughts, and they created a thunderstorm in his head. Memories broke out of their cells and screamed into his head, begging him to stop.

“You gonna cry?”

Xavier clenched his sweaty fist until his knuckles turned white. He tried to appear calm, but it didn’t work, and his father knew it.

“You gonna do it?” he mocked, “You gonna save yer Mama?”

His father stared into his eyes. A drop of red appeared in his darkened blue eyes. Beads of it spread, and the hue thickened until it completely took over. In his eyes, two figures emerged. One small and pathetic, the other towering over it. The small one threw a punch, throwing its entire body weight into it. The blow was completely insignificant. The larger one grew in size, snarling and huffing until it dwarfed the other. The beast grabbed the other and slammed its massive fist into its face. Xavier could feel the blow, and his brain clanged against his skull like a harsh crash of symbols. The beast kept punching. Blood splattered all over the scene, and bits and pieces exploded from what used to be its head. The beast screeched in delight before it dug its claws in and ripped the carcass in half.

Xavier stepped back and lowered his gaze in shame. Guilt overpowered him. Somehow, the feeling was even more painful than before.

A hand slammed into his throat and started squeezing. Xavier’s head pulsed with pain as the blood in his neck rushed into his head.

“Don’t you ever challenge me like that again,” Xavier’s father growled. Xavier tumbled to the ground. His father raised his fist. The muscle from his hand retreated and the sinew on it snapped away, becoming a claw of bone. A dripping black scythe began growing outwards from his fist. Xavier cowered under his father and closed his eyes. 

No pain came. 

Xavier cracked open his eyes and peered through the gaps in his fingers. His father was back in his own terrifying skin.

“Yeah,” a thousand teeth flashed outwards from his father’s face before sinking in just as quickly, “that’s what I thought.”

Xavier closed his eyes. Suddenly, a voice began crying. Xavier opened his eyes. He saw a kid crying behind him

“Hello?” Xavier whispered.

No answer.

“Hello?”

The kid looked up at him. He was kneeling before the broken, bleeding body of Xavier’s mother, her skin cold and her eyes devoid of life. A cracked baseball bat lay beside her corpse. Shaggy black hair was pushed behind the kid’s ears, revealing eyes that were red and puffy. It was like looking in a mirror from years ago. 

“Why?” the boy sobbed, “Why couldn’t you just stand up to him?”

“I–” Xavier stumbled over his words. The racket in his head started up again, the headaches and thoughts tormenting his mind.

“I’m sorry,” Xavier muttered, “w-w-we couldn’t do it. W-We froze.”

“We?” the kid mumbled, “No, no, I wasn’t here for this.”

“What?”

“I didn’t cause this!” the kid screamed, “I didn’t let her die!”

“He was gonna kill me!”

“Why did you let me live? If I was here, I would have stopped him! I would’ve prevented myself from being born!”

“What do you…” his mind got lost in the confusing flurry of emotions.

“Just kill yourself,” the child sniveled, “ It’ll end the pain for both of us.”

A tear trickled down the child’s cheek. Xavier’s arm burned in pain. His muscles convulsed as a deep gash sliced its way down his forearm. Xavier snatched his arm and clamped his fingers down on the wound. Another tear slid down the child’s cheek. Tiny nicks and cuts rippled across his stomach. For a brief moment, the banging in Xavier’s head stopped. Even though he was in physical pain, he breathed a sigh of relief. The anguish was dimming before it once again reared its ugly head. The second the pain on his skin went away, the mental torture was back, and the images of his mother rushed in. Xavier closed his eyes forcefully as more agony came. Hair ripped from his head, bruises dotted his limbs, and more cuts ran across his arms. Finally, it stopped. Xavier opened his eyes. He was back in his home. It was cold. Colder than it ever had been before. Xavier stepped out to find something warm. His weakened knees narrowly held together as he went down the stairs, and his thin, brittle arms pushed a pathetic force on the railing to keep him from keeling over. He was hungry. He couldn’t remember the last time he ate. Xavier pulled up his shirt and looked down at his stomach. It was concaved and pushed on his organs. His ribs poked out beneath his skin. 

Xavier stumbled down the stairs and approached the fireplace. The flames crackled and popped, exuding a meager warmth, but it wasn’t nearly as powerful as he remembered it. Xavier saw a faded picture on the mantel. He picked it up to get a closer look. Xavier blew the dust off and wiped the smudges. The colors were faded, but the picture was clear. It was his mother. His weak grip slipped, and the portrait crashed to the floor. 

The fireplace suddenly blew out, and all was cold again.

“No no no no.” Xavier fell to the ground, desperately trying to put the pieces back together. He kneeled on broken glass, but he didn’t care. The physical pain was nothing to him.

“You see what you’ve done to us?”

The boy was back. His eyes were puffy. Mucus spilled out from his nose.

Xavier's hands trembled. His knuckles turned white, “Go away!”

“I wish I could! I wish you could kill yourself and I could finally cease to exist,” the kid screamed, “but you called me here! You caused my existence when you submitted to him!”

“We were just a kid!” Xavier yelled.

“I wasn’t there! That’s when you made me!”

“We were only…” Xavier had an epiphany, “I was only your age.”

Xavier’s mind struck once again. Anxiety attacked him, taking his reason and aggressively ripping it to shreds before throwing it in a cell, locking it in, and tossing away the key. The kid stared into Xavier’s eyes. Xavier could feel himself tearing his hair out. Muted sounds of blows punched into his head. Glass shattered. More blows.

“Get out of my head!”

“I don’t want to be here,” the kid sniffled, “but you want me. You want Grief. If you didn’t want me you would’ve stood up to him.”

Xavier needed to distract himself. He stumbled to the kitchen and opened the fridge. Old Chinese food, some eggs, a little cheese.

His mother flashed before his eyes. The blood spread around him and began to stink. Xavier grabbed his hair and violently shook his head. His stomach twisted, and he felt bile rising up his throat. Xavier slammed the fridge closed.

“You’ve tried that before. It never gets rid of me,” the kid sobbed, “there’s only one thing that will.”

Xavier threw up onto the floor. He staggered up the stairs and fell into his room. He jumped on his bed and pressed a pillow into his face.

“Go away. Go away. Go away,” he yelled. He fit the pillow over his ears, trying to silence the voices that were screaming into his ears. He opened his eyes. The kid was still there, but next to him was something he hadn’t seen before; a bottle.

Xavier grabbed it and popped it open. His mind begged him not to do it, but Xavier couldn’t take it anymore. He forced the burning liquid down his throat.

After a few minutes, the haze set in, and a calm washed over him. His feelings numbed, and he was finally able to relax: for a few minutes. But after that, the kid returned. He would take another swig, and the kid would disappear, but not for long. Xavier began feeling dizzy, the bottle emptied, and he had nothing left to mask it. A noose appeared attached to his ceiling. Xavier approached it, gently twirling his fingers around the rope. The kid reappeared.

“It’ll stop it,” the kid said, finally not sobbing between his words, “I promise.”

Xavier looked back at the kid, his image blurry, fading in and out of his vision. He nodded and grabbed the rope. 

The noose vanished, and the monster appeared in front of him. Its fists slammed into Xavier’s throat and lifted him off the ground. The brown needle that protruded from its skeletal hand buried itself into Xavier’s skin. Under the creature’s hood, a void stood in place of a face. Two shining blue eyes appeared and sucked Xavier in. Xavier was thrown into a sea of raging water. Blue flames crackled and sputtered on the ocean's surface. Seawater was thrown into the sky where sharp thunderous booms sounded as lightning struck the water and reduced it to vapor. Xavier crashed into the sea and felt the freezing water stab into his skin. Below the water line, there was nothing. No fish swam in the sea; only crystals of ice rode the currents and listlessly whipped around in infinitely intricate patterns that stretched on for eternity. Sinking deeper, the sea floor became visible, but it wasn’t really the sea floor. Bodies replaced sand, rough, strawlike hair replaced seaweed, bones replaced coral, and flesh replaced vegetation. These bodies swirled slowly in the water, every so often revealing the body underneath it, but never revealing anything but another corpse swallowed by the monster.

Xavier fought against the freezing waters. He flailed against the currents and desperately swam toward the surface. Hands grasped his legs, but Xavier kicked them off. With little energy left, Xavier crumpled onto a black beach and crawled onto the shore.

When he gathered enough strength to stand, he gazed upon the world around him. He stood upon a rolling field of grass, and the winds whipped and tore the plants up. The sky was black, just as it had been before, with the exception of one tiny beacon of light. The beacon shined on him and guided him to see what lay before him. Two weapons rested on the grass. A revolver with a single bullet, and a weathered machete covered with dents and rust.

A wisp of white smoke swirled out from the void in front of him, the heavy slam of iron boots shook the ground, and the Grim Reaper emerged. Xavier picked up the machete. Xavier chose to fight.

He ran up to the monster, and buried the machete into its neck. The Reaper screamed and threw him backward. The beast swung its massive scythe. The blade left a gash in Xavier’s leg. Xavier ignored the blood and the pain exploding from his leg. He ran up to the beast, ducked under another swing, and slammed his machete into its leg. It transformed into his father. Xavier didn’t care. He swung, and slashed, the blood soaking his clothes. He kept pushing. He fought back until it was done. With the final blow, the beast fell, and the cloak that hid its identity was removed. Xavier wiped the blood from his face, and looked down upon his greatest fear. It was what he had become. It was his future self. 

He was years older, gaunt from starvation. A single needle protruded from his arm. Xavier approached himself, and suddenly, he was looking down at his own arm. Xavier woke from death and returned to reality, life radiating from his skin once more. Xavier quickly ripped the needle out, but he felt cold and clammy, and his breathing was starting to slow. He was  overdosing. Xavier willed his body to move and began desperately crawling. He fell out from the alley onto the street where people bustled about. He managed one last desperate word.

“Help…”