Fear Me, Dear

It feels like only minutes later that I'm waking up, but in reality it has probably been a few hours. Fuck, how long have I been out for? Where am I? What even happened? All I remember is walking to the newsagents to buy doritos, but that's it. Did I buy beer as well and get absolutely plastered when I got home? That would explain my lack of memory and the pounding in my head.

Ever so slowly, I start to become more alert of my surroundings. I should really open my eyes, but my eye lids feel heavy. It seems that I am lying on a cold, smooth floor. As I run my hands along it, I assume that it is the kind of flooring they use for school hallways. It's quiet, far too quiet for my liking, it's making me feel uneasy. Maybe I fell asleep in the kitchen...or maybe the bathroom, that would explain the smooth floor that is sending chills down my spine. There is a nagging doubt in my mind though, as usually even in the dark I can kind of see due to light from the lamp posts outside streaming through the window. The doubt has arisen from two factors. One: I can't see the outline of a window (or anything for that matter) in this room. Number two: I can't see anything at all, stretching my arm out I can just see my hand.

Maybe this is just a prank. Yes, a very bad prank. I mean, I am assuming I got shitfaced last night, so maybe one of the guys (probably Matt or Max, perhaps both) locked me in a dark room. There we go, problem sorted. Sure, I am only assuming as I can't really remember anything, but to be honest it seems to be the likeliest scenario. Wow, Max and Matt better be ready for a good arse kicking.

"Okay guys, funny joke but seriously you can let me out now." I call out.

No reply. And I don't know if it's just me, but the room feels as if it has gotten colder. I can't see anything, and I can't hear anything, but I have the unshakable feeling that I am not alone. Josh, grow some balls you sissy, it's probably just Max and Matt. Why thank you brain, that is very logical of you.

"Come on guys, you've had your fun now." I chuckle, but again there is no reply.

"Guys?" I whisper, my voice cracking as I start to panic. Once again, I get no reply and now I am starting to doubt that this indeed and prank. No, no...Max and Matt are going to jump out at any second like the pair of dicks they are. But then again, what if they don't?

"Hello?" I shout, and again I expect no reply.

A reply is what I get though.

"You better fear me dear, for I am Death." A voice whispers rather sinisterly in my ear, and I mean right in my ear. This person is right next to me, and they sound nothing like any of my friends.

To say I am scared is the understatement of the century.

Twisting my body around, my eyes scan the area where the voice came from. All I can see is darkness. I begin to back away, clambering across the floor until my back hits a wall. Now the panic is really beginning to fill my mind, to make my heart race, to make my palms sweaty, to make my body shake, and it conjures up in my mind the wildest and scariest scenarios that could occur in the next few moments. I try to remind myself to just breathe, deep breath in and then out, but really when my mind is going into overdrive it's very difficult to focus on one thing. Maybe I can find a door, if I get up I could find a way out! Scrambling up onto my feet, I pick a direction and blindly run that way.

You know when you were little and your mother would tell you that eating lots of carrots would help you see in the dark?

I can't remember the last time I ate a carrot.

Which leads me into my new situation within the larger situation. I trip over my foot, my own fucking foot, and stumble slightly. Waving my arms about I try to regain my balance, but a force that is pushed into the center of my back sends me tumbling to the ground. My phone falls from the pocket of my jeans and slides across the floor and stops about two feet away from me. Getting up onto my knees, I go to crawl to my phone but a stinging sensation from the back of my left calf stops me. Pressing my hand to the source of the discomfort, I hiss in pain and feel liquid stick to my fingers. Whoever is in the room with me, appears to have taken a knife of some sort and cut through my skinny jeans and into my skin. It feels like it's quite a deep cut and probably requires some stitches, and this increases the level of panic I feel and pushes me further towards crying. I won't cry though, I'm a man and I'm not scared.

I sense the presence of someone mere centimetres away from me.

Oh my fucking god I am terrified.

This is the moment my phone decides to alert me of an incoming text message. The obnoxious tweeting sound of my text tone that I have been too lazy to change rings throughout the whole room, and I let out a quiet nervous laugh. Wait...the guy or girl, whoever the hell they are (although their voice sounded slightly more male than female) may be distracted right now by the illuminating screen of my phone. This may be a good opportunity to try and find an exit again. Cautiously but still rather quickly, I stand up and start to jog away, although the slight limp I now have is holding me back from going at a full sprint. I manage to go ten steps and the stranger doesn't seem to have noticed yet.

"Tweet tweet motherfucker." I mumble under my breath as I continue to move.

But alas, my luck seems to be going further and further down the shitter, as a hand grabs my shoulder and roughly throws me onto the floor. My elbow hits the floor first, and is soon followed by the rest of my body and a rather loud shout of 'mother fucker' as I grab my elbow as if it will ease the pain. Not soon enough the pain begins to subside and I stretch out my arm to make sure that my elbow is indeed still fully functioning. Thankfully it is. Letting out a shaky sigh, I turn my head to find my phone being thrust into my face. With slightly shaking hands, I take it and look at the glowing screen. I've gotten a text from Dan.

'Hey instagram whore, where are you? We're getting worried'

In the reply box, the guy who is holding me captive seems to have typed out part of a reply.

'Just thought I would go to'

"Wait, you want me to put a name? Well if you think I'm going to do that then you can go f-" The glint of a knife in front of my face makes me bite my tongue and stop my sassy remark in its tracks. The knife looks very sharp, and I would much prefer it to not end up lodged in my face in the next few seconds.

"f....find yourself a medal because that's exactly what I'm going to do."

First I check the time, 02:34...bloody hell how long have I been out? Then I hastily type out the first name that comes to mind and swiftly hand the phone back to the guy, who I assume sends the text as I hear the sound of my phone hitting the ground. Shit, I guess the screen is probably cracked or something now. Then I mentally slap myself, because I just had the chance to text one of my friends and request help. It didn't even have to be Dan, I could have quickly gone to another contact and sent a text, then gone back to Dan's text and finish the reply. Stupid! Then I see the knife again, just before it cuts into the skin on my upper right arm. Pushing myself back, I shout out in surprise and pain. I keep backing away as the glint of the knife stays in my line of sight, getting closer, until my back hits a wall. I hold my hands up in front of my face to protect it, in case this guy wants to carve up my face like a pumpkin on Halloween.

"Please don't kill me, I know that you may have heard this so many times before and it's probably getting boring but please. I have money, is that what you're after?" Reaching into the pocket of my jeans, I pull out the contents of it. A half empty packet of chewing gum and a five pound note. I drop the gum and hold out the money.

"Here you go, it's all I have. To be honest my life isn't even worth a fiver seeing as I do bugger all, but please I really don't want to die. To be honest I never want to do anything, but right now I think dying takes top spot on the list."

The knife makes contact with my arms again. Once. Twice. A third time. It stings like a bitch, as the knife randomly cuts up my skin in swift movements. There must be at least six new wounds on my arms now.

The knife is only centimeters from my face once again, but now I have nowhere to go. I feel as if everything is closing in on me. My heart feels as if it is going to erupt from my chest and explode into multiple chunks. My body won't stop shaking. My lungs don't seem to be working properly, it's as if all oxygen has been drained from the room and my chest is tightening. My death is literally right in front of me and mere seconds away. I break down. The tears start, and as much as I try they won't stop, and soon it turns into violent sobbing.

"This is it, I'm going to die aren't I!" I shout out as I try to catch my breath. "I don't want to die. I want to finish college, get a job, hang out with my friends, be there when my sister gets married whenever that is, see my family again. I really want to live because I haven't had time to properly live and...oh my god all of the things I could have done with my life so far and I've done practically nothing. Please don't kill me."

Through my blurry vision I can still see the knife, motionless in front of me. Pulling at my hair, I try again to get my breathing under control, but as I exhale it comes out as a shaky sob and then it really hits me: this person doesn't care if I live or die.

"Shit, I've made everything worse now. Now you're going to kill me because I'm pathetic piece of shit who just keeps rambling and - jesus christ Josh shut the fuck up!" I scream, more at myself than anyone or anything else.

I continue to sob as the knife gets closer and closer. In one swift flick it cuts through both of my shirts and slices the skin on my forearm, blood soon flowing and causing the cloth of my clothes to stick to the skin. Then the knife moves so it is hovering above my chest, and then it is dug into the flesh. It doesn't go deep enough to cause any internal damage, but it isn't like a bloody paper cut, it fucking hurts as this guy seems to be craving a pattern or something into my chest. I yell and try to move away, but that only makes it worse. I can't get up as the wound on my leg is beginning to hurt more and more as each second passes, and it is getting close to becoming unbearable, and my arms are screaming at me in pain. All I can do is sit here and scream as the knife cuts at my skin. I feel helpless. Hours seem to pass, but in reality it is probably only a few minutes, until the knife is no longer making contact with me. Trembling, I raise a hand to rest on my chest and I can feel blood trickle through my fingers. The pain is horrific, it feels as if the contents of my chest are going to ooze out from the cuts.

I look up and in the darkness I can make out a set of eyes very close to my own. I stare into them, the hazel-brown eyes reflecting...remorse? No, I'm just seeing things I want to see. As I look deep into them, and they look deep into mine, they blink and I notice a single glistening tear fall from one eye. The knife comes into view again, and with a look of panic I look from the knife to the person's eyes again, finally resting my gaze on theirs again.

"Please..." I whisper, my voice cracking as I choke back sobs and let tears roll freely down my cheeks.

"I'm sorry." The other person, who is definitely a guy, whispers in reply.

Then all I can feel is pain, and I scream as the knife is plunged deep into my stomach. I look down with wide eyes, my mouth hanging open as I watch the large quantity of blood flow from the wound, staining my clothes and causing my black shirt to stick to my stomach with blood. He pulls out the knife, and digs it into my body again. My screams soon cease as I choke slightly, finding it slightly harder to breathe as some blood starts spilling from my mouth. Shit...no, that is not a good sign. Think Josh, what did you learn from that first aid thing mum dragged you to? Coughing up blood...what did they say about coughing up blood which isn't a disease of some sort? Think idiot, think! Not a disea- oh my...the knife has hit my lung, holy fucking shit the knife has caused some sort of damage to my lung. I'm going to die.

All I feel is pain, and then there is nothing but darkness for what I fear to be the last time.