A young man opened his eyes, suddenly disoriented, and he looked around to see where he was, realizing he was clearly not in his bedroom.
He was in what looked like a dark, damp cellar, permeated with the smell of rust and blood. He tried to straighten up, but the strings were so tight that he started to tear off his skin, making him grimace in pain.
His limbs were tightly bound. He couldn't move. His breathing quickened. The room shook with each violent blow, each agonized scream.
«Leave him alone,» a raw voice was heard shouting away.
These two echoes resonate through the dark chamber, but his mind was concentrated on one thing: he knew the voice. The one who resonates through the house.
Because this voice was not the voice of an unknown person.
It was his uncle's voice.
His heart clenched.
«Old man,» he cried. His scream was so loud that it began to strain his vocal cords. pulling at his bonds like a caged beast desperate to escape.
Useless.
The more he struggled, the tighter they became. The knots were tight enough to wrap his skin and burn it.
When he saw that his struggles were useless, he took a breath and calmed himself.
He could finally hear what was happening in the house.
Noises could be heard, but they all belonged to the same place the living room and apparently of two person the uncle who was tied like him and the unknown person who walked in circle around the old man
«You knew that it would happen one day, right?» said this other voice with a warm smile so warm that it became terrifying
«Do what you want with me, but let him!» screamed the old man, half-desperate and terrified
The young man was calmed before he heard these words, but now it's a whole other case; he can heared all the noise and words pronounced by the two men. But can't do anything apart from trying to break the bond that maintains him attached.
the footsteps around his uncle, The sound of something sliding across metal. And that suffocating silence…
Just before the screams.
«Stop! Monster!» the old man screamed with everything he had.
But the cold voice continued calmly, almost gently:Isnt ur blood warm? It's been a long time since I took a proper shower, he said with a glacial tone that could freeze hell itself.
A long agonizing cry was heard until the black room of the young man.
The face of the young man was full of tears of despair. He tried to scream again, but his vocal cords were broken. But even with that, his heart began to beat like crazy, like to scream all the pain that he felt at this moment.
«You won't get away with this!» whispers the old man weakly, although it was already evident in his voice.
The other man laughed with a terrible calm.
«I don't need to get away with it. I already have what I wanted.»
Then the murderer's voice softens as if it were death itself collecting the life of man.
«Goodbye, old man».
One final sound. A wet crack.
Then the silence fell.
He tried to scream with all his strength, but he could not.
The ropes cut deep into his wrists.
Everything went black.
He sat up suddenly, gasping for breath and drenched in sweat.
The room was silent.
Only the sound of gasping and rain beating against the window could be heard.
That nightmare again.
That memory again.
It came back every year on the same day.
The day his uncle died.
Even after 10 years, these memories hadn't dulled; in fact, they seemed to grow sharper and more painful to endure.
This old man was the one who took him when he had nothing, when others thought he was nothing, when he was truly nothing. He was the only one who cared for him, the only one who loved him, and he was the only one to offer him a home and a warm dish. For others, it may meant nothing, but for him, it filled the hole in his heart.
So....
How could he forget him
He sat on the edge of his bed for a moment, staring into space.
Then he got up.
Without a word, he put on his clothes, his shoes, and left the room.
The house he left seemed different that day, empty and cold, as if it too remembered that day.
Outside, torrential rain poured down on the city.
The air smelled of a mixture of plants and wet earth.
With every step, the sound of his shoes hitting the puddles echoed in the silence.
Halfway there, he stopped. He looked up at the dirty grey sky.
Water streamed down his face, mixing with tears he refused to accept.
"Why him ?" he whispered.
His voice trembled.
Why do the good ones always leave first?
His fist clenched, jaw clamping tight.
"You bastard up there… You and your fucking paradise.»
He slowly resumed his walk through the muddy forest that led to the old cemetery.
No one ever came here except him.
The trees bent under the storm. The cemetery was practically buried in fog.
But even in the mist, the young man could tell exactly where the grave was. So he walked over to the grave and knelt.
«I've come,» he whispered, sobbing.
The tears could no longer be held back. All the despair and sadness of that night took shape in those tears.
Suddenly, a noise could be heard. It was neither the wind nor the raging storm. It was something else.
Slow, deliberate footsteps — the sound of human footsteps.
Someone was there.
A presence so cold and silent that it seemed to freeze the world in perfect stillness.
He slowly looked up at the figure, it was a man with long white hair the eyelids closed
"Who are you ?" he asked, his voice breaking.
The man smiled.
«Don't you remember me ?"
"No. Am I supposed to ?" replied the young man, a weird and bad feeling starting to swell inside his throat.
«Well,the man said in a gentlemanly tone, the last time we saw each other was 10 years ago.»
«10 years? Exactly?» asked the young man, his heart beating faster as if it were about to explode.
«Why don't you ask what you really want to know, kid ?» said the man with a warm smile.
The young man stood up and looked the man straight in the eye. Although the fear in his eyes could not be concealed, he asked him the question anyway :
«Are you the one who killed my uncle ?»
The man stood there without saying a word for a few seconds, those poor little seconds that seemed like an eternity to the young man.
«Yes, I killed him, although the more accurate word would be 'tortured', wouldn't it ?»
«What do you think ?»
«Well, yes, after all, you must have seen what happened to that old retired man.»
«Well, yes, after all, I took good care of him, cut—»
«Cutting off his hands and feet, stabbing him in the thigh ?» the young man said, interrupting the murderer.
«Yes, I know when you left, I left that room. I saw the old man. Dead, with missing limbs, his blood flowing down his thigh, coupling open, but you kept me alive.»
«Tell me why,» he asked, with a fury boiling inside him, just waiting to burst out.
«Hey, tell me why you kept me alive, killed him,» he repeated a second time, with even more anger than the first time.
The murderer laughed for a few seconds before stopping.
«Are you serious, kid ?» he asked with a coldness that made the kid's blood run cold.
The young man tried to attack him by punching him in the face, but he couldn't touch him, as if the laws of physics did not apply to this man.
"How…?" he asked, trembling.
"You'll find out one day, maybe, if you manage to survive today," the killer said.
He tried to get up and run away, but unfortunately, it was too late. As the young man fled, the murderer picked up a wooden stick from the forest floor and threw it straight at his heart.
"Goodbye, boy."
For the first time since this meeting, the murderer opened his eyes; they were black, an abyssal black capable of engulfing everything, and yet onecould see an emotion in his eyes.....
Remorse.
But his word was lost in the storm, fated to be heard just by the world.
The blow was perfect.
The pain was excruciating.
His body trembled.
His painful life was sadly coming to an end.
And he laughed. A hoarse, desperate laugh.
"Hahaha… I came into this world alone… and I'm leaving it alone."
His gaze slowly clouded over.
"Ironic, isn't it ?"