Reflections of His Heart

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Young Adult  |  House: Booksie Classic
A short powerful piece of work about fear, uncertinity, and control

Submitted: February 24, 2008

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Submitted: February 24, 2008

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Reflections of His Heart
I had known him for many years. We met on the worst day of his life. Back then it seemed like our time together would only be as acquaintances but as his despair and grief grew, so did our friendship.
At that time I knew he was delicate so I proceeded with caution. I consoled him, I comforted him and I pitied him in his difficult times. But then when he was somewhat stable and released from the hospital was when I finally began to manipulate him. However we rarely talked in public, people found it strange or possibly unhealthy for us to be friends. But even rarer still were the times when we saw each other face to face as we did now, because that only happened in this old warehouse.
He looked at me with nervous eyes and then turned his head to the left. There tied and gagged to a thick concrete pole was our prisoner. How very long it had taken me to convince him to kidnap her. If I had had it my way I would have had her dead on the spot. It wouldn’t have been necessary for this whole kidnapping routine. But I didn’t really blame him, after all he was a first timer and nerves ran high the first time you killed someone.
He stared at her for several more seconds thinking heaven knows what. But then the focus was back on me.
“Is there something wrong?” I asked with somewhat of a smirk as I waited for the words I knew would come.
“Its just, well I don’t really know. I mean do I really have. Well you see. It’s just....” He stammered in a low undertone.
“We’ve been through this a million times. This is the only way.”
“But how will this help me?” He asked.
Suddenly anger flared up in me. Why couldn’t the stupid man get on with it and make my life simple.
“When you kill someone,” I explained while trying to control my voice. “You are no longer vulnerable and weak like them. You are not the hunted you are the hunter, and you will master hatred, despair, and hopelessness. And when you master others’ emotions you will be able to control your own and you can finally forget”
A tremor of despair and anger rippled across his face as my unspoken remake brought back images of that fateful day many years ago.
Here it was, the opportunity I was waiting for I had him confused. I pounced and slowly whispered in his ears.
“You’ll see what I mean. Now listen carefully. I want you to slowly turn around and give that girl the meanest look you’ve ever given. I want that look to say, hello dear, this is the night you die.”
Slowly he turned his gaze toward the girl with a maniac look on his face. Although still gagged the girl made a highly audible scream, and then she began to cry and muffled coughs and splutters could be heard in the drafty warehouse.
I had him from that point on; he was putty in my hands.
“I understand now”. He said with a wide malicious grin on his face
“Good” I said in an ever so cunning way. He was mine. I had banished his fears with my talk of power and by giving him a small taste of what it felt like. He new what it was like and now he wanted more. Through his madness he was becoming weaker and soon he would be the puppet with me pulling all the strings. “Now” I said. “Finish the job!”
The fool slowly walked toward the girl with what, I suppose, he thought was cunning. As he stopped before her he slowly began to pull out the dagger that I had forced him to keep at the ready and surgical clean for the past several weeks. But now the deep silver of the beautiful blade would be satisfied. It would glisten with the blood of his prey and through it I would be given new life, but this time not as a shadow but as the true master of a body I could call my own.
He began to raise the blade high into the air, ready to strike.
“Master of fear, master of despair, master of hopelessness, the everlasting, indestructible, and immortal”, I whispered to him. Higher and higher the blade rose.
“Everlasting, indestructible, immortal, everlasting indestructible, immortal.” Higher, higher and higher still. The gag fell from the girls mouth and wicked scream pierced the night.
A slash of silver, a gush of red and the job was done. The man looked slowly down at his hands, all joy and happiness had left him leaving a hollow shell behind.
“What have I done, what have I done, what have I done?” He yelled to himself.
But then I was in control, I the wicked half of him who had settled there so many years ago on the worst day of his life. I turned toward the mirror where for the past several years we had had our face to face conversations and I briefly remembered the times when people cowered as he would talk to himself and I would answer back in his voice. But my reflection only lingered for several seconds when my fist shattered the mirror into a thousand pieces and he died within himself and gave birth to me.


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