DARING THE MONSTER

"Help! Help! Ella!"

The wails of a woman echo in my ears with a bang, making me twirl in the direction of her voice. The images are so vague that I can't make out anything except the voice.

"Ella! Please, help!"

The voice echoes again, but this time, it goes silent at once, as if it has been cut. I start wandering in the vagueness to the aid of the poor sobbing lady. I don't know where we are. I don't know who she is. I don't know what I need to rescue her from, but I know she is in kind of danger due to her sobs, and she is calling for my help.

I don't know if she can see me or not, and since I can't see her, I follow the direction of her voice, taking slow strides, but about three or four steps...

"Run, Ella! Run!!!

A different voice from somewhere behind me halts my steps, making me almost leap with tension. That, bulky tone belongs to a male. It's labored, like he is also in danger. I spin a half degree, ricocheting my eyes in the vagueness, but to more dismay, I don't see anything either, but I can make some additional different voices in the background.

A woman is clamoring for my help on one side, and on the other side, there is a man's voice prodding me to run. Why do I need to run? What should I run away from?

Which voice should I adhere to?

Amid the baffling incoherent state of contemplation on what to do, a distinct voice from the aforementioned two, followed by showers of loud sounds that almost deafen my ears reverberate in the stillness of things, wrecking everything inside of me.

"SEE YOU IN HELL!"

Everything comes to an impasse!

~~~END OF THE DREAM~~~

I peel my eyes at the irritation of strong arms wiggling me continually. I am drenched in sweat. My pulse is worryingly brisky, stemming a raced breathing too. I feel like someone who has been running away from a monster for hours.

That dream!

Those words!

In upswing to my rambling state, I encounter with these pair of spooky eyes gawking at me, my shoulders caged to his strong arms. I feel the urge to scream, but I block the hollers at my throat.

I snatch myself out of his grip with the speed of a deer that just slipped from the mouth of a ravenous lion. I roll out of my bed to the opposite side, appalling the fuck out of this devil. His gruff cynical gaze on me sends more shivers to the ones I already had from that bewildering dream, amounting to a volcano of atrocity.

Perceiving my short night dress and nothingness of undies, I hug my chest tight with my arms, breathing in through the nose and out through the mouth to puff out as much dismay as I can, but everything is rumbled into shambles as the monster augments his taming strides towards me.

My fears, pulse, and trembles skyrocket with every single stride he takes towards me. I wish there was a place I can run to hide, but the wall against my back is antagonistic to my hopes and yearns for safety.

Those so familiar words echo in my head as the monster towers before me.

SEE YOU IN HELL!

SEE YOU IN HELL!

Those are the exact words he said yesterday before shooting that Martin guy to death. And those sounds from the dream... Is there a connection here?

"Please, don't!" I mutter with laboured words as he attempts to touch me, my endeavours to steady my breathing hitting a hard rock.

I feel so much more resentment than I ever felt before now. Why? What does this jerk got to do with my mysteries?

"Do you, perhaps, want me to remind you who you are to me, slave?" He calmly asks, throwing off his leather jacket on the bed and jerking me roughly off the wall.

"Please, Ajay..."

"You had a dream. What was it about?" He roars, gripping my neck but just gently enough to make sure words can strive their way out of my throat.

"Nothing!"

Shit! I regret that cheap lie the second it leaves my mouth.

I spasm as my body rails against the mattress, but my destitute forehead wasn't that lucky. It crashes to the edge of the arm of the bed. As if that wasn't lethal enough, it had to into that same spot with a healing wound. I jerk my head up slowly, puffing out a massive sigh of a stifled sob. I don't dare feel the impact with my hand. The red drops of the liquid dripping from the spot and the excruciating pain elucidates everything.

In a flicker, I'm dangling in his arms again but this time, I hem my weakness and fears inside my guts. I should as well pee them out and flush them the minute I walk into the bathroom. I have had enough of this jerk!

"Why don't you just kill me, you filthy jerk!" I burst out, and for a minute, he ogles me as if mulling over the possible harrowing ways to deliver my plea.

I don't blink. I challenge his murderous gaze and dare his demons to do his worst. What's more than this?

He lets go of my neck, and we tower in front of each other like two lions ready to tear each other into pieces.

"You are right, Ella. I should kill you." He speaks, his voice cold but soft to a point that it almost made me tremble.

But just almost, because his touch, though gentle, disgusts me to the core.

These bloodstained hands of his don't delineating my dismantled face don't merit to touch me. He makes me sick, and I am so sick of him hurting me for no fucking reasons.

"What's stopping you then, Ajay?" I challenge, enunciating with so much composure and boldness that I didn't know I had, or as if I have a death wish. "Putting a bullet through my head is so easy, right? You do not need me. Why can't you just kill me, you son of a bitch instead of making my life a living hell, huh?"

He glues his eyes on me for a moment that feels like a decade, perhaps wondering where I got these hard balls to talk at him like this. His disgustingly demeaning demeanour doesn't intimidate me this minute. Instead, the fire to challenge him is flaming so savagely.

"Maybe you can help me figure that out, Ella! Killing you is as easy as how I kill everyone who becomes a threat to me, or so I thought. I have a thousand reasons to kill you. I have had good chances to kill you. Then why?" He pulls out his gun and fondles my sore face with it and adds. "Why the fuck can't I bring myself to pull this fucking trigger, huh?" He fumes, his cold breath irritating my face more.

I shrug off the notion of a loaded gun exploring my sore face, and ponder on his words.

He had a thousand reasons to kill me? What reasons? He had chances to kill me? What chances and why didn't he?

And how he heartlessly made me witness how he murdered that Martin idiot yesterday, was he deliberately urging these impetuses that I just had? I haven't had any weird dreams since I woke up here until yesterday after witnessing that scene. The two incidents feel so familiar. What's their connection?