The Room

The room was small, built in the shape of a sphere. The walls, floor and ceiling were all painted a bright, blinding white, creating a cold and unfeeling setting. There was no visible discrepancy to the sphere’s shape. There was nothing else in the room, and it was kept lit by an unidentifiable source of light. There were no windows, and the only door that led outside blended in seamlessly with the walls. There was no way to tell left from right, front from back. And in the middle of the sphere sat a man.

His raven black hair was long, dirty and fell to his shoulders in matted locks. He wore a plain white shirt, or at least a shirt that had once been white. Now it had been stained a dull brown-red by blood. He wore a pair of khaki trousers, torn and ripped almost to shreds, and his feet were bare. His nails were long, untrimmed and sharp. His arms were cuffed firmly behind his back, and no matter what he tried they would not come free. His eyes fixed themselves on the section of the sphere above him, a feral look clearly visible in them. His mouth was twisted into a wry grin, revealing yellowish teeth and sharp canines.

What was his name? He could not remember, and it did not matter to him anyway. Names were created for the sole purpose of differentiating one person from another. One live person from another. When people are dead, names no longer matter, do they? He chuckled to himself, rocking back and forth on the floor, his eyes never wavering.

Oh, how had he had loved the look of pure, abject terror in his victims’ eyes before Death’s scythe descended upon them. Oh, how he had loved the symphony of shrieks and screams of fear and agony as they died. And he would never forget the wondrous feeling of their warm blood, splashing down his shirt, hands and face. The crimson liquid bathed him in a pleasant warmth he would never forget, and its taste was something out of the world. He savored its bitter, coppery taste for every second it remained in his mouth before he swallowed it.

He did not know why he was here, anyway. He had done no wrong in killing those… beasts. They drove him to it, pushing him into a corner, leaving him with nowhere to run, pushing his mind beyond its very limits. They took away everything he had. His wife had been one of them, taking away his child. His child! The little girl had been his pride and joy, the one light in his darkness, but his wife had snatched her away from him. They took away all of the money he had earned through hard work. They took away his home. They took away his identity, refusing to acknowledge him for who he was. They took away his happiness.

They took everything away from him.

And for what purpose? He racked his mind. Oh yes, it was because he had been diagnosed with some sort of plague, an incurable disease, one that would eventually kill him. He had thought that his family would accept the news, guide him through the rest of his days, but it had not taken them longer than a day to reveal their true colors. Their eyes… even now he shuddered every time he recalled their eyes. So cold… so unfeeling… so filled with hatred.

And so he sought to destroy those eyes.

He could hear footsteps outside the sphere. Was it time for lunch? He was not sure; they had taken away his watch, taken away his ability to tell the time, taken away the one thing that he had been left with. Much like his family had done. He glanced at his toenails, long and sharp-

-he held the dagger in his hands, running his fingers along its sharp edge lovingly. He could not wait to feel the sensation of plunging it deep into those filthy pests that had destroyed his life. Retreating to a corner, he curled up into a ball, acting meek and docile, watching through dilated eyes as they stepped into his room to strip what was left inside. It was evening, and the room was dark, rendering him almost invisible in his shadowy corner.

They paid him no attention and instead worked on removing as many things as they could. Finally, all of them left the room to carry the objects to their car, all of them, save for his elder brother, who was contemplating a small wooden box thoughtfully.

His anger flared. How dare that… that bastard touch his music box? It was his! Given to him by his wife… he paused. His wife had betrayed him, too. Then the music box had been contaminated as well! He snarled. Was there nothing left that would not remind him of his family? He rose slowly, silently, his eyes gleaming. As he approached his brother from behind, the latter opened the music box, filling the room with a peaceful, gentle melody. It was a tune filled with hope, and yet a slight tinge of sadness. He snorted inwardly. Hope… even that had been taken away from him. His brother turned around to face him, thinking him still in the corner.

“Hey, I’m going to take-“ He started to say, a contemptuous smirk on his face, then his voice faltered when he realized that the man he was addressing was nowhere in sight.

“Hello, dear brother.” He whispered softly, and watched as his brother turned around sharply.

Twisting his body into the dagger.

His eyes widened with pain, his mouth opened in a shrill cry of pain. The man held the dagger steady, his eyes cold, watching.

“Oh dear,” He said insincerely, “I didn’t think you’d stab yourself, dear brother.” With a deft twist of his hand, the dagger jerked upwards, neatly slicing through his brother’s stomach. He pulled the dagger out in a spray of blood that covered his arms, and watched in detached amusement as his brother slumped to the ground, dead. He began to-

-chuckle to himself again. The footsteps were louder now. But did it matter? His eyes flickered briefly to the door, as there came a sound of the lock being opened. The door-

-inched open, and his wife stepped into the room. She glanced around, spotting her husband, no her ex-husband, sitting in a corner, his face buried in his lap. Her brother-in-law was nowhere to be seen. Odd, she mused, she could have sworn he was still in the house. She pushed the thoughts away as her ears picked up the soft melody of the music box she had bought to commemorate her wedding. Searching for it, she spotted it sitting on top of the king-sized bed on the other end of the room. Approaching it, she reached out her hand to pick it up, then paused as her foot stepped into a liquid, a warm liquid.

“Huh?” She murmured to herself, and knelt on the floor to see what the liquid was. Then she froze, as her eyes traveled under the bed, and met with the sight of her brother-in-law’s corpse lying in a pool of blood. She opened her mouth to scream, but then a strong hand, smelling strongly of blood, clapped over her mouth. She found herself being wrenched to her feet, and then she looked into the face of her ex-husband, who was regarding her with a demented grin. She saw the dagger in his hands, and shook her head violently, her eyes wide with terror.

“You don’t want me to kill you?” He asked quietly, his grin fading. For a moment, he looked almost sane, but then his eyes lit up with a feverish, mad look. He whispered into her ear.

“We took a vow during our marriage… that we would love each other till the day death claims us. But you left me. You said you didn’t love me anymore. Doesn’t that mean that we’re both to die? Don’t worry… I’ll let you die quickly.”

He giggled madly as her eyes glazed over, and she crumpled to the floor, her throat slit. He dragged her body into the adjacent bathroom, opening the door-

-a man appeared at the doorway, carrying a tray of food. He was displeased with his task, it seemed.

“Still here, h-

-uh?” His father-in-law growled as he stepped into the room, spotting the man seated, yet again, in his corner. His eyes narrowed at the sight of the man rocking back and forth almost cheerfully to the tune of the music box, which now sat on the floor next to him. Ignoring the man, he looked around the room, searching for more things to claim as his own. There was nothing left, it seemed. Then his ears picked up the sound of running water.

“The bathroom?” He muttered to himself. What the heck, he thought, maybe there were some things left in the bathroom to take. Stepping past the man, he walked into the bathroom…

And into a nightmare. His daughter lay dead in a pool of blood, its crimson color contrasting sharply with the light blue floor tiles. He paid no attention to the sink, and the tap that was still running. Frozen in shock, he had no idea that the man was approaching from behind. There was a sharp explosion of pain as a fist collided with the back of his head, and he stumbled, grabbing onto the sink for support.

“What the hell…” He cursed. “You monster! What are you-“

“A monster?” The man’s voice was low, menacing. “You dare call me a monster? Why not take a good look at yourself in the water and tell me who’s the monster?” And so saying, the man shoved his father-in-law’s head into the sink, now almost completely full. The old man began to flail wildly, torrents of bubbles surging from his mouth and nose. The man said nothing, watching in amusement as the old man’s strength ebbed away, and his body fell limply to the floor. His eyes were wide and bloodshot.

The man began to laugh-

-“Yes, I’m still here.” He said softly, amusement apparent in his voice. The prison warden snorted in derision.

“Well, here’s your food.” He murmured, walking over to the man and placing the tray of food on the floor. The man glanced at him, then his mouth twisted into a tiny smile.

“Could you-

-hurry up?” His mother-in-law now entered the room. She looked around, but could see no one. The melody of the music box floated into her ears and she looked at it curiously. She did not hear the faint clicking sound of the door being locked. The man smirked, and retreated into the shadows near the bed, where she could not see him. The sound of water splashing onto the floor caught her attention, and she stepped into the bathroom. Almost immediately she let out a shrill scream and stumbled backwards blindly. Rushing to the door, she tried desperately to open it, but it was jammed shut.

Panicking, knowing only that soon she would be dead, she whipped out her cell phone and dialed the local police. She was in hysterics by the time the call ended, and her head whipped from side to side as she tried to look for the murderer. She shrieked as something hit the floor with a sharp thud. Mustering her courage, she walked over to the bed, where the sound had originated. She spotted what looked like a hand sticking out from underneath it. Swallowing, she knelt on the floor and stared.

The soulless eyes of her son-in-law stared back at her.

“No… no!” She moaned, scrambling backwards in fright, then froze as something sharp was plunged into her back. Choking in pain, she turned around, and saw her other son staring at her, his eyes cold and merciless.

“You ki… killed them! M-murderer!” She gasped, pointing an accusing finger at him. Then her anger turned into fear as the man smiled.

“Yes, I killed them… but soon you’ll be joining them. Isn’t that benevolent of me? So unlike how you filthy beasts treated me.” He pulled the dagger out of her back and leaned against a wall, watching as her life slowly left her body. He threw his head back and began to laugh…

He was still laughing when the police came-

-“Could you untie my hands? I haven’t use them for so long… so very long…” He asked, his voice soft, timid. The prison warden looked at him suspiciously.

“Please?” He pleaded. “I only want to use my hands… to feed myself.” The prison warden regarded him for another couple of seconds, and then grunted his approval. Why not? He loathed feeding the man anyway, and it wasn’t as if the man could do anything with his feet tied together. He inserted the key into the handcuffs and unlocked them, then watched as the man gripped his wrists, a smile still fixed onto his face.

“Well, what are you waiting fo- Urk!” The prison warden choked as the man’s hand flew around his throat and gripped it tightly. He tore at the man’s hand, surprised at how firm and strong his grip was.

“I haven’t felt the running of blood down my hands for such a long time… you’ll help me, won’t you?” The man giggled madly again. “Of course you will.” Then, his eyes dilated, his mouth twisted in a sadistic grin, the man plunged his sharp nails into the prison warden’s throat, killing him. Blood gushed forth, covering his hands, and he savored the warmth it gave him. He began to laugh madly, rocking back and forth, and the sweet melody of the music box surfaced in his mind. He heard more footsteps, and then a group of soldiers burst into the room, their guns held ready. They froze at the sight of the dead prison warden, and the man laughing insanely.

“Shoot him!” Their leader growled, and the man’s laughter died away as bullet after bullet pelted his body. But he could not feel the pain. All he could hear was the sound of his laughter, the screams of his victims, and the soft melody of his music box.

His eyes glazed over in death, but his mouth would forever remain twisted into a crazed grin.

The room had claimed its next victim.