From the corner of the dark, cramped and tightly locked closet I call home I hear a familiar sound. A voice I've heard countless times in a husky and damning tone calls out to me once again. "Edge yourself closer little one I do seldom bite.", it spews its venomous bile like it so often does and yet everytime I catch myself closing the gap. Inch by inch I crawl myself closer and closer to the voice, that in it's tones judges me but who's words offer some comfort in the gloomy space I inhabit. I have never gotten so close as to actually see what it is that speak to me there in the lonely darkness, but darkened feelings are never far from my heart of hearts whenever I revert to this place and so it can by no means be good. "Begone vile, venomous, treacherous darkness that so often speaks to me." I lash out at the voice. "Why do you wound me such? I have but only kind words for you. I wish only to provide you comfort and companionship.", an answer I did not expect from the voice, though why would I expect anything of something I have yet to see or someone I have yet to meet? "Who are you?" I ask the pitch black darkness and from it the voice answers "I am relief from all the pain you know, a means to an end.". Why does the voice torment me such? Have I not suffered enough? At the hands of my parents I suffered neglect and rejection. My friends soon followed. Why ever did I open that damn closet door? "Have mercy upon yourself young boy", the voice more sinister with every sentence with every word. "Use me, a cure for you ailment" traverses out of the lightlessness surounding me.
I stumble to my feet, grasping something i can not tell in the darkness and slowly I put one foot in front of the other. I am the light illuminating the darkness so as I move where i once sat no longer stays visible. My little space of safety has been swallowed by the darkness of my lightless closet. I finally meet a corner, the voice came from the direction here yet I have seen nothing and still see nothing. "Monster, show yourse..", my voice is rasp and strained before I finish it is all but gone. The energy I once had is leaving me, though I know it is my fear that drives my voice to hide. So even my voice abandons when I truly need it. "Look down little boy, I am here to serve you", the voice it is right here below me I need only look to learn what the voice is. Slowly i creek my head down and there there is but a small knife, nothing more and nothing less. I grasp the knife and rise again and this time my voice no longer fearfull howls "Do you mean to torment me still then! Show yourself villainous demon". "What does the lovely boy mean I have already showed my self and your hand grasps me. To tightly might I say.". "So am I to take that you are but a knife?" This time I for reasons beyond me speak directly to the knife in hand, as if it was a person that had much angered me. "I am." the voice is strangley calm almost serene and cold very cold to the touch. Growing colder with every moment that passes, growing more painful to hold. "You wrist are soft and warm, they are nothing like me cold and hard steel. Let me touch them pretty boy, let me give them my kiss.", the voice is no longer judgemental nor sinister. It is become more a feeling of relief, guess the voice... blade was truthful there. I look up and my eyes begin to close, "just a moment that is all I need" i hear the voice say.
Suddenly my hands feel strangely warm and wet. I look down and see a thick flowing fluid crimson in colour run down my wrist to my hand and drip off my fingers. I look to the blade and it is also just as reddened as my hands. "What vile deed have you done?" I bellow at the blade. "This deed is truly vile yet it is not my deed" it answers, "This, you did boy". "My eyes were shut for but a moment and in that moment you struck me, blade.", I did not struck you I am a blade and I slit you though the hand that moved me was yours. "I am a relief, a deathly kiss that means you will never again suffer pain, and you are not my first victim." it whispers to me. "Victim? Then you take the blame? no matter if you ended my life or if it was me I will die and my tale come to an end.". Simply because I opened a closet door, my closet door and listened to poisonous words from you who no doubt wished me dead I must die. Perhaps if i had left the door wide open instead of fleeing the world and hiding inn here I may have lived some more, forever more?
With that the little boy drenched in heavy crimson water slouched slowly down and there he died, blade in hand in the darkness of his closed closet.