3:00 am. I shut off my phone. With the starlit sky outside of my window, the moon shining down, the darkness of the sky, watching me, I reached for my gun, and loaded it.
I put it to the side of my head. I put my finger on the trigger, ready to end it all. I looked at the sky, the silence was all I needed. The noise of the odd passing car got louder each time, though. I pulled the trigger. It jammed. I laughed, what were the chances? And with that, I’d made my peace. I put the gun back to my head, loaded the gun. My heart beat. I put my finger, once again, on the trigger.
I woke up, in my bed, to Siri talking at me. But I had switched my phone off. I looked at the screen but it was just the Lock Screen. A cracked screen showing a memory. Me and my brother, as kids, smiling at the camera. The time was 4:23 am. I tried to unlock my phone, but I twitched, and managed to open up the backward facing camera. Immediately, the phone shut off, but it was on full charge. The lights turned on, strangely.
I screamed. Something made this creepier than it seems in hindsight. Which is weird, because I shiver at the thought of this night.
I jumped out of bed, shaking. I tried to open my door - I had an urge to get out of there, but the handle just shook. Not properly. The door didn’t open. I rushed to my window, if I could climb out, I could get away as fast as possible. I could escape this nightmare. I swung my curtain to the side. But the window had no handle. I punched it. Panic took over me. I swung. I swung again. Punching the window, I barely made a dent. In fact, I didn’t make a dent, whatsoever. I kicked, I threw things. I used deodorant cans, a trophy, a lamp. But nothing made a single crack. I gave up. I broke down crying. I sat by the window in a panicked mess.
I noticed something strange on the top of my desk. A brown, leather, and incredibly thick book. I stood up. I’d never owned a book like this. Even if it was something from my parents, or my brother, I’d have known of it. I sat at my desk, and opened this gigantic book to the first page.
“Samuel’s Special Day!” It read.
I’m sure you’d guess, my name is Samuel, and this made my heart beat faster and faster. I turned the page again.
“Samuel reads a book. Samuel reads this book. Samuel is about to make a choice. Will Samuel make the correct decision?”
I clutched at my chest as it tightened. My legs fell numb. I felt light-headed, I stood, but my legs failed and I fell to my knees.
I remembered that I had a screwdriver in my draw, so I raced to get it. I unscrewed my chair, the legs, made from metal, detached from the backrest. I picked up the computer chair legs as I stared out the window, looking for anything odd.
The door handle slammed, creating the loudest noise I had ever heard. The handle had swung like that before, but this was… louder. Perhaps it was because there was no other noise. But that didn’t seem like the case. The door didn’t open. I slowly manoeuvred to the door, then I pulled on the door handle. It screeched as it moved down. I yanked the door, but it was like it had a lock on it. I pulled. I pushed. I kicked. I cried. I screamed. I fell to the floor. Tears fell from my eyes, as I sank to the cold floor.
I woke up on the carpet. 4:52 am. My phone was ringing. No caller ID. Was this all a nightmare?
I answered the phone, but all I heard was breathing from the other end. It got more and more intense. I hung up and raced to my window. I found it, smashed, and I threw my phone as far as possible. I heard it slam onto the concrete floor in the next street over. That brown book caught my eye once again. I put my chair back together, and opened the book again.
“Samuel’s Decision’s” The third page was titled.
I continued to read, despite how scary this was. What else was I to do. I read, and read, but I can’t remember what any of it said. This is weird. I’m very into reading books. I usually remember most of the words, but I could barely remember any of this.
I got to the 47th page, which was full of questions.
“What is your name?” - Samuel
“How old are you?” - Rather not say.
These are just the typical questions, like I was signing up to some sort of website. But, after a few questions, it took a darker turn.
“Are you alone?” - Not relevant.
“Would anyone hear you scream?” - Yes.
I had to think about this. But I had to make sure that I’d give some sort of illusion, at least, that it would be a bad idea to try to harm me.
“Have you got any knives nearby?” - Not relevant.
“Is your phone switched on?” - I threw it out of a window, is this relevant?
I continued answering these, I’m not sure why, but then I turned the page.
“Look behind you!” It read. My heart stopped. My legs turned to jelly. My head turned cold, but I got boiling hot with fear, and panic. I slowly turned my head, and on my wall, in red writing - perhaps blood, “Don’t think too hard!”
I remembered that I had a gun, but it had disappeared after I blacked out. I remember - I held the gun to my head, I pulled the trigger, it jammed. I laughed, yes, I reloaded, yes, I pulled the trigger again… No?
I blacked out. I don’t remember falling, I just woke up in bed, right? So, how did I get there? I opened drawers, my wardrobe, and threw things around my previously tidy room. But there, under my pillow, I found it. My pistol. I raised it to my door. Then I realised. What was the point in all of this? I was going to kill myself. So, it is now or never. Kill myself, or maybe I never really wanted to. I felt like I had some sort of purpose now. And I blasted a bullet out of the barrel of my gun.
I think I’ve lost my mind. My skin crawled. My head floated. I was incredibly distant. I awoke myself when I was slowly drifting to sleep, and my finger stroke the trigger of my gun. It let off a loud bang, and my door fell to the floor. I was free. Or was I?
My house was dark, I looked around. I stood to my feet. The creaks, as I walked, they cut the air like a knife. My ears rung. I felt my blood heat up, as it ran throughout my body. I stepped out of my room. I decided that I couldn’t care less anymore. I walked down the stairs, and I did not look back. My life was going to end, anyway. It was time I gave up this fucking game.
I walked to the hallway, and yanked on the handle. The door was unlocked, but it didn’t open. I raised my gun. I aimed. I loaded. I pulled the trigger, but nothing happened. I turned cold. I froze. A voice behind me.
“A difficult decision, Samuel”
I turned, jumping.
“What will you decide” The voice screeched, like a nail scraping down a chalkboard. I stared into the glaring eyes - 6 pairs of eyes in the darkness, piercing into my soul.
“My decision?” I asked.
“I fucking out of here” I continued. Then, I shot the door, corner to corner. I then kicked it down, and walked out. I turned around after leaving my front garden, and through the door, I could see 2 white eyes in the darkness. I walked away and never looked back.
I slept on park benches for months after that, I got a job. I was broken. But I had some sort of purpose. I have a reason to live. I just still did not care. If everything truly went wrong, if I truly needed to, I always have suicide to fall back on. I always have a plan B. I always have an escape route. Nothing can hurt me anymore. I still see those eyes occasionally. I stare them out. They often blink, then disappear. I think I won that day.