My Entry

A sorrowful, sick man and his caretaker split from one another.

Word count: 874

Keane had a wide mouth that allowed for the brightest of smiles. Oftentimes, when his gaze was turned toward me, the corners of that wide mouth were down-turned with disappointment and revulsion. It was better than pity.

"Don't you ever feel embarrassed? Playing nursemaid here with me instead of doing something useful with your life. You're young, able-bodied. You could have a nice girlfriend, a nice job. But you spend your time wiping my ass and twiddling your goddamn thumbs while I sleep most of the day away. Do you even have any friends?" my voice was raspy with lack of use, but my tone was scathing and morose.

Keane just sighed and glided my way with that elegant gait of his. His deft fingers peeled an older bandage from the side of my neck, and I could feel the rubbery nitrile of his gloves on my skin. The swipe of antiseptic-soaked gauze was cold and stung the fragile skin below my jawline. Keane's soft, forgiving eyes were too close to mine now, and I had to blink away the onslaught of guilt that washed over me. I tilted my head to offer the injured side of my neck more freely, allowing my eye line to reach the dried-up herbs that sat in the living room windowsill. Soft morning light was peeking in through the frosted window.

When Keane pulled his touch away from my neck to reach for a new bandage, I studied him from my chair. He was wearing faded blue jeans, a little too short for his soaring figure. They hit right above his ankle, and the hem was frayed lightly on his right leg. He was wearing mismatched socks tucked into dusty work boots. I swept my gaze back upwards to linger on his broad chest that stretched a threadbare burgundy t-shirt, and the plaid flannel that was falling from one shoulder. I didn't let myself look at his face.

"It's pathetic, really. I don't even pay you," I continued my tirade, glancing at his strong forearms, revealed from when he had rolled up the sleeves of that flannel, "Is it some misguided white knight fantasy or something? Or your ticket into the kingdom of Heaven?" I knew that Keane had a deeply religious upbringing. It always seemed to be a sore subject and a point of contention with his family. Keane's shoulders slumped like he was making himself small, and self-hatred pinched my heart like a vice.

"Can't you just leave me here to decay, Keane?" I mumbled, emotion choking my voice. "Please," I pleaded with him, warm, wet tears beginning a slow crawl down my face.

Keane's face scrunched up, almond-shaped eyes squinting shut. He had a white knuckled grip on the nitrile gloves that I hadn't seen him remove. He shifted his weight until his body was facing me full-on, but his face was still turned toward his bin of medical supplies.

His deep voice wavered as he began to speak, "Do you ever stop feeling miserable for yourself? We used to be friends. Really good friends. Every happy memory from my childhood was with you, Sade. Do you know how awful it is to be here, every day, and stare at the shell of a man where my best friend used to be?" Keane's voice was picking up in volume, and his eyes were trained on mine now, "Every word you speak is either an insult hurled at me in some half-assed attempt to drive me away, or some self-depricating comment that makes the both of us feel like shit. And you call me pathetic. Take a look in the mirror, Sade," his last few words were spat at me with hatred, "If you wanna wither away alone so bad, then good riddance, Sade," I watched as he threw the gloves in my lap, then turned his back on me to stomp to the front door. He slammed the door and it shook the house. A few minutes later, I heard his truck start up and crunch along the gravel driveway.

Fresh tears ran down my face and dripped onto my stained t-shirt. I tucked my chin to my chest and sobbed, and scrubbed at my face with my shaking hands.This is what I wanted. He's better off without me.

"There, there, Sade," an inhuman voice rasped in my ear, the Thing's snake-like tongue brushing revoltingly along the shell of my ear, "Now it can be just you and I," it continued as it's undulating, horrific form rounded my chair until it was in front of me. The volume of my sobs increased tenfold.

The feral grin from a warped, stolen face sat inches from my own. Its jaw was broken and sat gaping wide, allowing just a glimpse of its gruesome tongue as it ran along the stolen face's teeth. Crimson dried blood caked the corners of the stranger's open mouth, and it's eye sockets were vacant. Keane is safe from it now, I comforted myself with that thought.

"We'll be together forever," it continued in its other-worldly voice, and I felt its claws begin to tear at the edges of my face. I squeezed my eyes shut and continued to sob.