Chapter Text
The bedroom was coated in darkness, with an exception of a few flickering fires from candle wicks surrounding. The wallpaper was a creme color, while the carpet was a darker brown. A king-sized bed laid in the middle of it, pressed against the left wall, with two small end tables by each side for each person who slept on it. The white mattress was soft and the white blankets were big and fluffy. In front of the bed, was a wooden desk with many drawers and a lamp that was flicked off.
This is what the slender, black-haired man saw every time he woke so late in the night. He was tormented by night terrors almost every night, but they were simple mild annoyances for him at this point. He looked to the left of him, to be greeted by the sight of a larger, bulkier person with long hair twisted into a braid turned from him.
His lover.
The sight calmed his pounding heart almost immediately and he smiled fondly at them. He fell in love with them years ago, but only got with them a month ago. In fact, this was their first night sleeping in the same bed together.
The black-haired man’s soft smile melted when his eyes peered over at his lover’s alarm clock. It read 2:19 A.M. He growled softly under his breath and turned his body to the right, placing his feet on the soft brown carpeting of their bedroom. He stretched his arms out as he stood up and began tip-toeing out the bedroom.
The house was medium sized, and only had the main floor with a basement. At the entrance outside, was a porch with a bench that swung due to being chained and hung down from the ceiling that extended to cover it. When you entered, you would be greeted with a wide but short hallway, connected to three different rooms and the living room. He and his lover’s room, his patient’s room, and the restroom. At the end of the hallway, it split into the living room, the kitchen, and the dining room, which was fused into one larger room.
The living room had a large, black leather couch that wrapped against the south and west wall, a home entertainment system with a flatscreen television hung on the north wall, and a black leather recliner in the east, where the carpeting transitioned into shiny hardwood tiles. To the east was the kitchen and the dining room. The dining room had a glass table and 4 wooden chairs pushed under it. The black haired man isn’t sure why he hasn’t turned the other two chairs into firewood yet, since nobody visits them and one of the home’s residents is wheelchair-bound. To the right of the dining room was the kitchen.
The kitchen’s floors were shiny and white, with black coloring patterned in the tiles. It had a nice black fridge that had a water and ice dispenser in the left door, the freezer’s door. There was a shiny, pristine counter connected to the east wall, being broken up by a white, recently cleaned oven. 2 feet above the counter, was blueish-gray drawers that opened and revealed plenty of white, glass dishes and fine china. Mirrored to it was the sink, connected to a counter that sprouted from the floor under. To the left of the dining room, was a set of sliding glass doors that led to a large fenced backyard that the black haired man’s lover used to work out during the day.
The walls were littered with plenty of things. Beautiful paintings that his lover made, pictures of both of their respective families…
Many hunting rifles and double-barrel shotguns on display. The black haired man hunted plenty of things, which was easy because his home was located in the middle of a forest that thrived with large wild-life. He uses half of his game for food, the rest for profit.
He can’t lie, this home would’ve been considered a cabin if it weren’t for his influence. When he found it with his patient, it was just a simple wooden cabin. Thanks to his connections, though, he was able to fix it up and turn it into the beautiful living space it is now. He and his patient have lived here ever since, with his lover moving in much more recently.
The black haired man marched in and out of the kitchen, dining room, and living room, pacing around in a large circle, presumably trying to tire himself out. He doesn’t understand why he does this every time he wakes up so late, honestly. Must just be him trying to stimulate himself. He sighed and abruptly stopped in front of the fridge.
“Damn nightmares,” the man growled under his breath in a Cajun accent. He turned on his heel and grabbed a recently cleaned glass cup, which was drying upside down on a folded blue towel by the sink. He turned back to the fridge and pressed the cup on the toggle that released the water, he would’ve gotten ice if it didn’t make such a ruckus.
He began walking back to his bedroom before remembering, he had a patient that he took care of. He stopped in front of a door to his right and slightly turned the knob.
Behind the door was the man’s patient, a large pale woman with black hair that was slightly graying, sleeping in a bed with a covering that needed changing. She wasn’t elderly, no. She was the man’s age, in fact. The patient had experienced an almost fatal head injury during the airing of a reality show she, the man, and his lover participated in before getting canceled. Her injuries caused her to have major memory issues and speech troubles, resulting in her being nonverbal most of the time, and only being able to make low whines and growls when she’s not completely silent. She was wheelchair-bound, even before and during the before-mentioned show. How she was accepted into it, the man would never know.
The man looked at his sleeping patient blankly before quietly closing the door and continuing his way towards his and his lover’s bedroom, his feet making little sound as they pressed onto the creaky tiles. He pulled the room’s door open and snuck his way over to the desk, flicking on the lamp that pointed at the center. He picked a locked drawer open with a key he kept in his pajama pants pocket. The drawer contained multiple journals with covers that ranged various different colors. He picked out a blue one, it’s front reading “Late night thoughts” in fluent cursive writing. He skimmed the pages until landing on an empty page near the middle. He clicked a pen and began writing, quietly whispering the words he was printing onto the paper.
“2:32 A.M,
My night terrors have gotten worse. I try paying no mind to them, but they seem to get more and more disturbing the more pieces of my plan start coming into place. My game was in it this time, revolting blue face and all. He was lecturing me, as if I were just a child to him. I strangled him after a little bit, his last words being the same as always. It's as if someone living inside me is trying to convince me to not hunt this game. We both know, I don’t have much of a choice in this matter. Regardless if I want to or not, I have to. For the one I’ve worked so hard to pay back for the kindness they’ve given me. They deserve the prize that he ripped from their hands. I will get them that prize, no matter the cost. Nonetheless, I have to be patient. The game is coming to town soon. I already have everything planned, I just have to sit…
And wait.”