Short Story: Home is Where the Darkness is

I can see them across the room. They are in pain but the straps biting into my wrists will not let me move. I plead until my voice is hoarse and yet he laughs. The sound reverberates in my ears, drilling into my skull with such ferocity that bile rises in my throat.

“What will you do–make flowers? Help the sun shine?” He laughs again, slapping me across the face until tears spurt from my eyes.

I promised to never use it. She made me promise.

They scream again, now slouched on the floor.

“You assume incorrectly,” I said. My eyes slowly rise to meet his. I can feel the power within building until it comes out of every pore. It escalates until it is a black curtain standing behind my back. He watches in horror as it grows, reaching with black tendrils toward the ceiling. The particles drift to the four corners of the room, dimming the lights.

I push. It jolts toward him as he stumbles backwards. It climbs menacingly until it towers above him before crashing down like a wave upon sand.

I push it further, feeling every whisper of the inky mist as it infiltrates his body. It sinks into his flesh painfully, burning his skin. It digs deeper and deeper until it snaps his now brittle muscles. It splinters the bones until they are powder. It engulfs every drop of blood, every platelet and every strand of DNA.

I stop, slowly caressing his heart with the black fingers. I stand unblinking, facing his frozen form. It eats the various parts of his body with a painstakingly slow pace, relishing every nibble and every lick.

I then squeeze as the darkness sucks the heart in, vaporizing it in a powerful instant that turns him into nothing. His body is gone, leaving a singe mark on the floor. I recall the void, sucking it into my eyes, my nose and my heart. It returns without hesitation, easily coming home.

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