Shadows

The shadows are stirring again. His breath is puffing out in erratic, sharp bursts. His chest feels tight, as his knuckles turn white around his blanket. He buries his nose in the sterile material, huffing it in deeply. Trying to ignore the groping fingers and gaping jaws. He lets out a tiny whimper that resonates in his tiny room. He swears he hears a bestial, throaty chuckle in reply. Buries his face, instead of his nose, into the blanket. Breathes hard and groans as clawed fingers grab onto his feet. Said talons tug hard, digging their claws into his soft, pliant flesh. Whimper after whimper escapes nearly strangled vocal chords, as he kicks out furiously against them. “No, no, no,” he whines, fingers digging into his scalp. Those clawed digits continued to claw up his ankles…then his legs. Gauging past skin to the bone – he could feel his fibula shatter…. And then the stronger tibia. They groped past his knee, to his thighs, digging deeply into the flesh and tearing gauges. His howls of pain fell upon deaf ears as he screeched and kicked against his shadowy assailant. It shattered his femur – those damnable groping fingers. His pain-filled shriek was not heard, but for that inhuman, growling predator. It laughed at him – he knew it did. He could hear it’s deep-throated, snarling growl. He let out whimpers and whines, trying fruitlessly to dislodge the midnight-colored monster. It did not work, and soon, it’s claws had punctured the soft, silky flesh of his belly. Those razor-sharp claws slid so easily in – as if his skin was mere butter. He felt his intestines rupture under those daggers – and as the creature suddenly ripped upwards, until it hit his ribs…. Everything else. His kidneys, his liver, his stomach, everything…. He howled in anguish. Those claws suddenly retracted, and he felt a prickle of relief…. Until two, five-inch canines pierced his soft underbelly, tearing at the flesh and ruptured organs. He could feel the creature feasting, but found he could not protest…. Nor scream in agony. He writhed with helpless abandon as the shadowy creature gorged himself on his inners. And, in his agony, did not hear the click-clack, click-clack, over his pulsing heart, or inner screams of torment. He did not hear his door open. He did not feel the firm hand that grip his upper arm, or the needle slide into an awaiting vein. He was oblivious to everything but the shadow creature feasting upon him so hungrily. “It’s okay, sugar,” a middle-aged, dark-skinned and eyed nurse murmured soothingly. She batted away his sweaty bangs as the tranquilizer kicked in and he fell into a dreamless sleep. She gently dabbed a towel at his sweat-beaded forehead. Tucked him in his wrinkled, white sheets. Gently folded his hands beneath his heart. Sighed softly as she stared down at the troubled young man with saddened eyes. He was schizophrenic. And he was doomed to a hellish existence.