under the masks (page 4)

The thing as I now call it seized onto the back of the collar of my shattered shirt. Pulled up to my feet quickly I tried to grasp on to what happens next but before I could even focus my eyes of the debris around myself. It stood in front of me at what I believe to be eye to eye as I try to make out the most simple of words although I still failed. Standing there for what had to be three seconds-the longest three seconds of my life.  And he was dead, but only in mind because no shadow or zombie or Dracula I know was this cruel. No, no he had to be alive…with my luck human. (Wont that be ironic) It pulled me over its shoulder and continued on walking. Through the trip I remained on him, treated not better than some child that misbehaves for attention. Now of all times I fall completely and utterly unconscious due to all the blood loss. All that was driving through my head as I hang from this beast's shoulder comatose was nothing but petty regrets, how I should have done something more: go the extra mile. I should have bitten him deeper, fought harder, run faster because I have no one to blame but myself…besides who else in this world for the lonely could I blame.
In the depth of my cataleptic mind there is nothing but the shadows of the Shea I might once have been. I felt suck in an incessant twist in my psyche and if I was conscious I am sure I would cry as a reflex. The time I spent in the dark crevices of my mind was prolonged when experienced but could as well be regarded as a petite quantity of time, as for a matter of hours well; those measurements of time no longer exist.
It started with a voice…its voice; it was vague as I first wake up. "Nothing is really what they seems to be…life, it is all suggestion; for instance no one wants to kill another living being that's just nature; but they fall at the hands of fate and give in to the lust of temptation." Those words were the first ones the beast ever spoke to me and I am afraid that they will not be its last. Again, it expresses the need to speak "That is what you would always rant on about to myself and Father," he bends over to inspect me, I finally get a good look at me and I procured one on him. I lie on an old, bare floor with four red brick barriers that confined the area to a diminutive billet. As he examine me over I finally after all the hassle I was put through; I was given the chance to view his true face. I was surprised when I first gazed at my capturer; I panted so fiercely that I almost fell backwards. The best way that I could describe the so called beast was in similarity to the way I could describe myself.