1- Dead Memories

"I Hate Remembering...But Can't Stand To Forget."

❦❦❦

Feelings.

They are a strong thing in an individual's life. They can be feelings of joy, sorrow, rage or complex things such as regret and guilt or mood swings. These feelings, or emotions, play a part in everyday life.

But, what drives these human emotions?

Trauma plays a part in emotions, though mostly bad. Abuse, murder, rape and loss of a loved one trigger many emotions. Feelings of sorrow, rage, uselessness and, sometimes, nothing but pure, utter emptiness.

Other times it can be from a lovely day out in the beautiful Sun or spending time with someone close. Feelings of happiness, security, freedom, confidence and, in other cases, even some form of love, occur.

But, the one major ingredient of many in order to conjure such human emotions are something everyone has inside their heads.

A disease?

Mental illness?

A neurological deformity?

No. It is none of these things.

Memories.

Little slide shows of moments in one's life. An image that could have happened years, months, days, minutes before the moment that is being experienced in present time. Small things trigger memories, or even when boredom takes over, memories pop into the mind and let in a barrel of emotions. They can make you smile, or laugh, or frown, or cry. Memories are a factor in life and in the neurological function of an individual's mind. They change the way we think, speak and observe our environment.

A pedophile nearly abducted a child, though luckily his/her father was there to keep them safe. Years during and after that, the child is older and able to understand that kind of situation more clearly now. A man is staring at them. What does the grown child do? First, the memory might kick in, followed by lectures from his/her parents in an earlier time and then to the present time in the moment that is happening whilst thinking. Suddenly the man staring immediately becomes a murderer, rapist or thug in the grown child's eyes and then what next? They look away or leave immediately for a more secure place.

All of that thought process and the simple actions of eyes and legs are triggered from nothing but a memory.

They play a role on life and the psyche of people. Though, memories can hurt. They can hurt the individual with that memory and even the people around that person. Memories even play a part in mental illnesses. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder is one illness that makes memory a factor in its thriving and existence.

Memories are basically something that "makes us or breaks us", as the saying goes.

Yes, memories are a beautiful thing.

But memories aren't always so wonderful.

They're deadly.

They're a knife in the back, a gun to the head, pills popped in a mouth, a fist connecting to a jaw, a hateful glare or rude remark and especially what drives someone insane.

Memory equals insanity. It just depends on what one is exposed to and for how long they choose to dwell on what is only meant to stay in the past.

Memories are a good thing and are needed in life. They're absolutely beautiful.

But, some are best left alone.

❦❦❦

I don't like monsters.

Why is that, honey?

Because! They're big, mean and scary! And ugly too!

Well, not all monsters are big, ugly, mean and scary. They can be people just like you and me.

Really?

Mmm-hmm.

Mommy, what IS a monster?

A monster is just someone who has lost their humanity. They don't feel love, remorse or compassion towards what they do to hurt people.

Can anyone become a monster?

Yes and no. It just depends on how they live and what they do.

Hey, mommy?

Yes, baby?

Um...do you think I would ever become a monster?

Hahaha..! Of course not Jeff.

❦❦❦

The room was dark, and the only bit of light existing in it, was the moonlight coming through the small crack of the curtains. Everything was messy. Books and papers were sprawled across the floor, the bed was disheveled and the vanity's mirror was cracked. This room was a mess, but not as bad as it was downstairs.

Surely the young girl's parents would gasp at the sight they'd see once they came home. They had finally trusted her enough to have a sleepover without them here to supervise every move that she and her friends make. But, now they will regret their trust once they realize just how wrong it was for them to do so.

The young girl, who must've been sixteen, at the very least, was panicking. What should she do? What can she do? Her phone was left downstairs from the havoc of finding a place to hide upstairs. How dumb of her to have left it there. She berated herself harshly in her head, if she wasn't panicking. And if she wasn't berating herself and panicking, then she was mourning over the tragedy that took place downstairs and upstairs.

Her friends were watching a chick flick together, eating popcorn and enjoying the movie like the teens they were. There was five in all, including her. One of her friends had gotten off of the couch to use the bathroom upstairs, since the one downstairs wasn't working properly at the time. The rest were all left to continue the movie without the girl that had left. After twenty minutes without her showing up, everyone grew curious. "What's taking Layla so long?" one girl had asked.

"Maybe the popcorn got to her," another chortled.

The girl who was hosting the sleepover laughed and said, "Shut up, Jessie! That's gross!"

"We should check on her," another girl suggested. The girl who made the crude remark volunteered and made her way upstairs to check on her friend. Minutes later, the three girls left all had heard frantic, thudding footsteps and looked to the staircase to see the girl, panting with a petrified look on her face.

"What happened? Why are you-?"

"YOU NEED TO CALL THE POLICE! RIGHT NOW!!!"

"Jessie, calm down and breathe," a girl had said in a soothing voice.

"HOW CAN I CALM DOWN, TRINITY?!"

"Just take a breath and tell us what happened up there," Trinity had said, still in a calm tone.

"DAMMIT, THERE'S NO TIME, YOU GUYS! NOW SOMEONE CALL THE FUCKING POLICE!!!"

"Jessie-."

"FUCKING CALL THEM!!!"

"Okay, okay," the girl hosting had said and went to go retrieve her phone from its place on the carpet floor.

"So what happened?" the third girl asked. The girl named Jessie was sweating and pulling at her hair from anxiety and fear and she stammered, "I-It's Layla. Sh-She's...she's-."

The room suddenly went dark and the girls nearly screamed. All of them shared a pause of silence before the girl, Jessie, started murmuring, "No, no, no, fuck no..."

"What happened to the lights?" The third girl asked, voice shaking slightly. The girl hosting offered to check out the fuse box but Jessie had practically screamed at her not to. "Why not?" the third girl squeaked.

"Because, Victoria, we can't separate! We need to get out now before-!"

"Ugh, Hazel, now's not the time to breathe down my neck!" Trinity whined. The girl hosting, Hazel, had given her a weird look through the darkness and said, "I'm not behind you, Trin." Another pause of silence, before the ear splitting scream of the girl named Trinity had broken it and everyone else screamed too. They all felt something splatter and that's when they all ran.

Victoria had tried making a B-line for the front door, but her hair was pulled back and she fell right on her back. She wheezed from the impact but her wheezing turned to screams as she felt something sharp drive into her sternum multiple times before her whole chest was doused in her escaping blood. Jessie and Hazel both went for the stairs. They went down separate hallways, Jessie went for the left, Hazel to the right. She went to hide in the bathroom, but when she opened the door, the pungent smell of blood filled her nose and she looked down to see something grotesque.

Layla was collapsed on the white tile floor, bleeding out from her neck, a blood stained cloth tied around her mouth. Hazel stared in complete horror at the sight before her. She finally realized why Jessie was so frantic earlier and why she had wanted one of them to call the police and why she wanted all of them to leave. They should've listened to her. They should've just left without questioning her terror. The screams of the girl named Jessie brought Hazel back to reality and she knew she had to find another place to hide or she had to escape the house. She left the bathroom door open and went for the stairs but quickly backed away as she saw Jessie being stabbed in the stomach repeatedly against the balcony rail by a hooded figure. Hazel went to find her own room, but not without catching the horrible glimpse of the figure pushing Jessie's still flailing body over the railing. A loud, sickening crack could be heard from downstairs and her screams had stopped simultaneously. Hazel wasted no time bolting into her room and locking her door shut. She went to push her dresser in front of it and when it was placed correctly she backed into a corner and trembled.

BANG!

BANG!

BANG!

The figure was trying to ram the door. The dresser shook from the harsh force spreading from the door. Hazel covered her ears and closed her eyes, sobbing softly and shaking so much, she had thought she would have a seizure. After what seemed like hours of the intruder trying to break into her room, he had stopped. Hazel noticed the silence and uncovered her ears. Is he really gone, she had asked herself. She didn't want to trust it, so she went for her window and silently opened it up. She looked down to see her front yard. No one was there. If she could just make her way down and run to the safety of a neighbors house, she might be able to call the police and escape this nightmare.

She began to climb out of her window and onto the little roof right below it. She went over and hung onto the edge to scoot her way to the drainage pipe so she can climb down it. As she moved along the gutter, her fingertips touching soiled leaves and mud, she heard a deep, hoarse voice say, "Hello," and she froze. She looked up to see the window next to hers. But it was open, and resting his elbows on the sill was none other than the intruder, only she can see his face perfectly this time.

Paper white.

Black bordered eyes that gaped wide.

Raven-colored hair, disheveled, long and wild.

And a bloody grin most gruesome.

Hazel's breath hitched in her throat and her grip on the gutters almost slipped, if it weren't for the horrendous man who caught her wrist and pulled her up. He hulled her squirming body through the window and threw her down onto the floor of the room. They were in her parents' room, by the looks of it. She started to scoot back across the floor, away from the man whose clothes were covered in blood. The blood of her beloved friends. The man looked down upon her, flashing her his forced smile. It widened, indicating that he actually was smiling. He stifled a wry laugh and casually said, "Almost lost you, for a moment. But, I knew I would get to you somehow! You know...you seem like an interesting girl. Let's sit and have a chat."

And, that is how the girl, Hazel, came to be tied up and gagged, with the arms of a murderer around her shoulders, holding her tenderly. Her eyes were just as wide as his, and she trembled at an impossible rate. His head rested on her shoulder and he casually talked, as if they were close friends. "You know, you're not like everyone else, who screams and puts up a fight," he said, playing with her shirt collar, "you're very quiet and calm. Well, maybe not calm, but you're not struggling. Everyone struggles. It gets annoying after a while..."

Hazel was wondering how she could ever get out of this terrible predicament. She would just have to wait until her parents came home. But how long would that take? It feels like they're never coming back. "You actually listen to what I have to say," the murderer went on, "it's been a long time since someone has listened. My thoughts can never stay caged for so long. I just suddenly SNAP!!!" He shook Hazel for a brief second and a muffled shriek sounded. He chuckled and ruffled her dark hair. "You're so fun to mess with! Look at how jittery you are! It's so entertaining." His dark chuckles were all that she could hear.

"You were a bit of a handful at first," he added, "what with you running around the room like a chicken without its head. You even ruined the mirror." He pointed to the vanity and Hazel shuddered, still feeling the pulsating pain at the back of her head when it struck the reflective glass. At least she wasn't bleeding.

"I've never come across someone as collected as you," the murderer stated, "It's been a while since someone was as welcoming as you are. Everyone would scream curses, throw things and put up the most annoying fights. Those girls were doing those things so they had to end up like the rest. I'm sure you would never make me do that to you though." The murderer put his still bloodied blade against the side of Hazel's face and lightly scraped the tip against her skin, but he didn't cut. He chuckled and put the butcher knife down. He squeezed her a little tighter and kept on conversing with her. "You're so much more different and interesting than all the others. You stay when told to, like a loyal companion, like a friend. Oh, that's the difference! Ha, I couldn't figure it out but now I got it! You're loyal! You're my friend! You make me trust you! Unlike some people, who throw all of that trust down the drain like trash...!"

His fingers dug into her shoulders, causing her to wince, but he didn't notice. Hazel could hear a deep growl within his throat and she feared he would finally take her life. "Some people say they love you. You've known them for the majority of your life. They give you love, shelter, food, presents, hugs and kisses, pats to the back and they always put a smile on their face to show how damn happy they are to see you. They love you, plain and simple. But...just when you really, really need them...they just stop loving. They don't help you, they refuse to because they don't want to get hurt. Well, that's what love is! Love is pain and sacrifice! Where was their sacrifice, huh? Where was their love?! They discard your trust, and leave you to spiral down a pit of your own misery and pain! And then what? What happens when you hit the bottom? Heh, heh, y-you have nothing left... No love, no trust, no loyalty, no friendship. You've lost everything. All because the family you once loved, abandoned you and your pleads for some fucking help!!!"

Hazel was shaking from the pressure his fingers were placing on her shoulders. She could feel him tremble in anger, his heart beating rapidly against her back. After realizing the pain she was enduring, he calmed down and eased the pressure his fingers were placing. "But," he mumbled, "all of that anger and misery, turns into something else. You do something stupid. You do something so, so stupid. After that, you really do have nothing left. All you would have would be the voices in your head. But, you're so fucking miserable that not even they would want to talk to you. You're all alone..." Hazel could sense...sorrow in his tone. She didn't think a psycho could sound so...miserable.

"The memories you shared with them just become something to mock you," he continued, in that slightly sorrowful voice, "Everyday, they fill your mind. The regret swarms like a pack of angry wasps ready to sting. It numbs everything: your mind, your thoughts, your entire being...until everything slowly and painfully dies...making you into nothing but an empty shell of what used to be a human being." Hazel's heart was still beating at a disorienting rate, but her mind was calm and clear. Strangely, she started feeling at ease with this man's own pain and how comfortable he was being with her, though she only felt that way in her head. Her heart was still terrified. Why would he tell her such deep things? Aren't murderers cold and sadistic? Why was he being so open?

The murderer suddenly chuckled and said, "Well, enough about that. I just realized I never let you have your turn of our conversation. Here, let me help you out." He reached for the cloth around her mouth and was about to pull it down but before he did, he said, "Don't scream, okay?" Despite that this man had the capability to gut her, especially since she was bound, she nodded. A part of her wanted to say yes and scream her lungs out but another wanted to say yes and let the man have his peace of mind. Both options were wrong in their own way but what choice would be better? Dying or possibly surviving?

Hazel had nodded and the murderer slid the cloth down from her mouth and let it rest on her collarbone. He waited for her to speak and she could feel the tension rising. What if she said something that ticked him off and she was as good as dead? She couldn't stay quiet because she had a feeling he would force her to say something, somehow. Hazel knew she would have to choose her words carefully. But as her brain rationalized the situation and it's outcomes, her heart took control and she murmured in a shaky voice, "I want to leave..."

The man hummed in response and said, "Why? You're home, right? This is your house? Why would you want to leave home?"

"I-I just," she started, "don't want to be here."

"Well, then where do you want to be?" He asked.

Hazel had replied, "With my parents." She could feel him tense up and she knew she had said something wrong. Her anxiety was rising as his grip on her got tighter and tighter. "You don't need your parents right now. Why would you want to be with them? They left you here without any protection. All of your friends are dead and you want to be with the people who abandoned you and who aren't even here to care for you right now...?!"

Hazel wanted to protest. Her parents did not abandon her. They had finally given her their trust, that was all. "They trusted me enough to take care of myself for tonight," she argued. The man scoffed and groaned, "There's that word, trust. That's just a load of bullshit. They left you. And even if they came back, they will leave you again. That's how the world works. You gain someone's trust or trust someone else and the next thing you know you're screwed over again and again until it becomes routine. And what are they doing? Huh? What are they doing to show that your feelings and life mean something to them? You're out wasting yourself away for them when they are doing nothing for you. All you have is yourself. But sometimes you can't even trust yourself. This world revolves around the sins we commit, the lives we take and, the atrocities we create only for them to create more twisted atrocities to infect everything we know and love. We deceive our reality with the things most precious in life. That's why you can never, ever fall prey to this cycle of sickness, but it's all that you know. You need to see that and get it through your head." He placed a finger on Hazel's temple and leaned in close to her ear. "Understand that this world is a cruel one. Trust means nothing. Especially to people who won't accept it and give it."

Hazel felt tears streak her cheeks and her shaking grew more intense. The man grabbed her head and leaned it down so her ear touched his collarbone. He shushed her gently and caressed the top of her head, like she was a small child. "Hey, it's all true and, sadly, there's nothing we can do about that," he said in a soft voice, "So, don't cry. You have me now. You're my friend, right?" Hazel slowly nodded, still afraid to anger him. "Good," he said, giggling softly, "that's good to hear..." He clutched her tightly, pulling her into his embrace even more.

Hazel was growing tired. It was already late at night and her crying didn't make her drowsiness any better. But, she didn't want to go to sleep, fear that the man will kill her while she rests, or take her somewhere else. But his warmth just wasn't helping on keeping her eyes open and she felt them slowly start to close. Despite the adrenaline she still felt, her eyes drooped and she let her body weight go, making her feel a little heavier in the man's arms. Just as her eyes were about to shut closed, the familiar sounds of sirens stirred her awake and a wave of relief washed over her. Police. A neighbor must've called them. Took them long enough, Hazel thought. She may be able to get out of this alive. She might be able to see her parents again. The thought of running up to them and hugging them tightly, sobbing with them from the tragic night she had endured, had given her hope. She was so eager to see them or at least get out of this house without getting severely injured. But, she was still afraid of the man holding her. The man sighed gruffly and muttered, "Oh great. Those guys again. They're always ruining my fun. 'Nothing but a bunch of killjoys..."

He looked down at the girl in his arms and examined her hair, clothes and face; evaluating her body structure despite her position. He smiled, getting an idea. She's a little short but she'll do, he thought. "Hey, you're my friend, right?" She looked up with an anxious look in her eyes. She could see an intent in his but couldn't figure it out. She nodded and he continued, "And friends do things for each other, right?" Hazel nodded again. The man beamed, untied her bonds and quickly got up, surprising the terrified girl. He started taking off his blood stained, white hoodie and when it was off, he handed it over and ordered, "Put this on."

❦❦❦

Hazel stood behind the front door, shaking with fear and eagerness to get out of her house and to safety. She looked behind her to see three of her friends, lying dead and bloody on the floor. Her friend, Trinity had her throat slit, Victoria looked to be stabbed in the chest repeatedly, and Jessie...oh she didn't want to bear her eyes on her. All she wanted to know was that the drop from the balcony to the main floor didn't end up being a soft landing. She closed her eyes and turned away to face the door as the murderer was making sure her clothes were perfect.

"Why do you want me to where this?"

"Because...friends do things for each other..."

She couldn't believe she was wearing a blood stained hoodie of a man who murdered all of her four friends in cold blood. She looked down as he patted down her black pants.

"Your pants are already black, do don't worry about having to use mine!"

What was he doing? Hazel didn't want to think about it. All she was focused on was getting out of here, seeing her parents and never seeing this man ever again. He stood up from his crouching position and pulled the hood over her head, hiding her face. He brought out her dark hair so it stuck out at the bottom and he smiled. "One more thing," he said, before running into her kitchen and coming back out with a knife. He placed it into her hand without a word and said, "Do not let this go."

"Wha- why? What are you-?"

A loud, bellowing voice outside interrupted Hazel's question, saying, "We know you're in there! Come out with your hands up! If you do not come out within thirty seconds we will be forced to come in and forcefully arrest you! If you do not comply with your arrest, we will have no choice but to use violence!!!" It was a police officer using a bull horn. The murderer chuckled and patted her shoulder. He leaned in close and whispered into her ear, "That's your cue. Go out there and go see your parents. I promise you'll get to be with them. Leave like you wanted to. And also...thank you."

Before Hazel could ask him another question. He turned the door-knob and got behind the door as he opened it up for her. In the moment the door opened, red and blue flashed across her vision and she stared out at the scene before her. Dozens of police cars were on her front yard, many police officers holding their guns out or standing around, keeping people from around the neighborhood away from the scene. And as soon as she saw the officers raise their guns more and their faces contort with anger and fear, she realized just what the murderer was doing. But that thought quickly went away once she saw none other than her beloved parents. She smiled widely and, without second thought, she began to run to them. Her overwhelming sense of joy, clouded her fear and anxiety before. The thoughts of embrace with her parents, muffled her surroundings and the shouts from officers to stop. Her own tears blinded her from seeing one officer prepare his gun. She was just too relieved and happy to know what was to come next.

The murderer, who left through the back of the house and through the yards, heard a loud gun-shot and slowly smiled. Just as planned. He chuckled and pulled the brown, warm coat around his body tighter, to protect himself from the chilly autumn air. He picked up the scarf he took and covered his mouth and nose. He pulled down the maroon baseball cap on his head and kept on walking. With his hands in his coat pockets, we left the neighborhood and the scene of a crime he had committed. "Too bad that girl had to go," he mumbled as he walked, "I really did like her. We would've been really close friends. But, even though she listened, she didn't learn. I told her that trust didn't matter in this world. It would just screw you over, in the end. She just didn't learn..."

The murderer kept walking, keeping his distance from people and staying in the shadows where he enjoyed to be. He felt at peace for a few brief moments, before that peace was interrupted by one of his taunting memories. He growled and shook his head. "You mean nothing to me anymore," he muttered irritably and put the memory aside, as he kept on walking.

"Hey, promise you'll always have my back and I'll have yours. We'll stick together, no matter what, and fight for each other. We're our own little family, got that? And there is nothing that can break us apart. So...promise?"

"Okay, Liu, I promise."